<?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-8195611817811691857</id><updated>2012-02-16T17:09:55.251-08:00</updated><category term='COLLEGE: the Musical'/><title type='text'>Scoop Out my Brain</title><subtitle type='html'>The official blog of unofficiality.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>49</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-5524563086992106270</id><published>2011-04-10T19:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T20:10:04.702-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='COLLEGE: the Musical'/><title type='text'>Finale</title><content type='html'>After Agnes leaves, Nathan and Katharine kiss. Finally. Then, cue music to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;14. Closing Sequence&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;You wanna get out of here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Uh huh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;Where do you think we can go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(thinks.)&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Let's walk.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(A subdued reprise of the opening number. Lights sh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ift to JAY as he somberly enter the common room, alone, and looks around at the mess. After a moment, the music explodes into a full reprise of the opening number.* Everyone except NATHAN, KATHARINE, and AGNES enters excitedly and repeats the choreography from the top of the show. During the reprise, JAY walks around the room, detached, watching everyone numbly but not interacting with them. He does not sing or dance.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL (but JAY)&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Here we go again&lt;br /&gt;Time for another college party&lt;br /&gt;Somehow so much happens every night&lt;br /&gt;But nothing ever changes.&lt;br /&gt;The story of the years we spent&lt;br /&gt;Content to just experiment&lt;br /&gt;With friends and freedom in four years of frozen time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(to himself and the audience, bemused)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How amazing is this?&lt;br /&gt;**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fuIrk3JqUks/TaJw7BNGgZI/AAAAAAAABQk/p99OIl-7Llg/s1600/087.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 184px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fuIrk3JqUks/TaJw7BNGgZI/AAAAAAAABQk/p99OIl-7Llg/s320/087.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594157846385557906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;*Meanwhile, I'm booking it backstage-right from stage left, dropping the box, pulling on my (underwear on Saturday, my) pants, my shirt, and my shoes, and booking it back across backstage to re-enter on stage left with everyone else, just barely making it back in time each show.&lt;br /&gt;**After this there's also &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;15. Curtain Call&lt;/span&gt;, but it's just the na na nas and "How-amazing-is-thises, capped with a Here-we-go-again-time-for-another-college-party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-5524563086992106270?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/5524563086992106270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/04/finale.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/5524563086992106270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/5524563086992106270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/04/finale.html' title='Finale'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fuIrk3JqUks/TaJw7BNGgZI/AAAAAAAABQk/p99OIl-7Llg/s72-c/087.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-3229387479059910846</id><published>2011-04-09T19:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-09T19:39:15.827-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='COLLEGE: the Musical'/><title type='text'>And Then...</title><content type='html'>Agnes talks to Kath and Nath, Simon returns, and, finally, they ask Agnes why she can't let them have fun. As she gives her an answer, a series of events (in slow motion, for our production) take place outside the bedroom, exactly proving her point, which is the extremely accurate:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;13. College Kids Are Idiots&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;AGNES&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why not? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Why not?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(She throws open the door. Lights up on the rest of the dorm room. We see everyone partying below. Cue music.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll tell you why not!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(sings):&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;College kids are idiots,&lt;br /&gt;And you are a college kid.&lt;br /&gt;So therefore you're a total idiot.&lt;br /&gt;In every case this rule holds true. 'Cause&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;College kids are idiots&lt;br /&gt;And tend to destroy themselves&lt;br /&gt;And so I spend my every waking hour&lt;br /&gt;Protecting you from you.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EAwOzBOr3Ms/TaEU6azBh-I/AAAAAAAABQU/5x7hFcTD9iY/s1600/068.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EAwOzBOr3Ms/TaEU6azBh-I/AAAAAAAABQU/5x7hFcTD9iY/s320/068.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593775206029166562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you drive golf carts down the stairs&lt;br /&gt;Or you go sledding in your underwear&lt;br /&gt;I'm the one who's waiting there&lt;br /&gt;To scream and yell and stare&lt;br /&gt;And steam and glare and swear&lt;br /&gt;And no one anywhere can&lt;br /&gt;Understand why I should care that**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Kf-CaOwdinc/TaEUy0TXaEI/AAAAAAAABQM/ogBs4oqmkRA/s1600/055.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Kf-CaOwdinc/TaEUy0TXaEI/AAAAAAAABQM/ogBs4oqmkRA/s320/055.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593775075436750914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;College kids are idiots. Well,&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, you matter.&lt;br /&gt;Because the future belongs to the idiots.&lt;br /&gt;God help us.&lt;br /&gt;Which is why I still try.&lt;br /&gt;The future belongs to the idiots.&lt;br /&gt;God help us.&lt;br /&gt;So we can't have you die.***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5CAO3vz0na4/TaEUtc04V1I/AAAAAAAABQE/v_tLD8eDGtE/s1600/057.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5CAO3vz0na4/TaEUtc04V1I/AAAAAAAABQE/v_tLD8eDGtE/s320/057.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593774983235524434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(AGNES, KATHARINE, and NATHAN watch from JAY's room, as the students do ridiculous and dangerous things. It's really a mess. After a few moments of watching this, AGNES turns back to KATHARINE and NATHAN. The craziness continues in the room, even more frantically than ever.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you eat mothballs on a dare&lt;br /&gt;Or you set fire to your teddy bear&lt;br /&gt;I'm the one who's waiting there&lt;br /&gt;to scream and yell and stare&lt;br /&gt;And steam and glare and swear&lt;br /&gt;And no one anywhere can&lt;br /&gt;Understand why I should care that****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uroW_25m4ps/TaEUjiwQY_I/AAAAAAAABP8/DhSwXZr_2H8/s1600/086.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uroW_25m4ps/TaEUjiwQY_I/AAAAAAAABP8/DhSwXZr_2H8/s320/086.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593774813028049906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(as the CHORUS ahhs)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;College kids are idiots. Well,&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, you matter. Because&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AGNES &amp;amp; CHORUS&lt;br /&gt;The future belong to the idiots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AGNES&lt;br /&gt;God help us.&lt;br /&gt;Which is why I still try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHORUS&lt;br /&gt;Ah-ah-ahh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AGNES &amp;amp; CHORUS&lt;br /&gt;The future belongs to the idiots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AGNES&lt;br /&gt;God help us.&lt;br /&gt;So we can't have you die!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHORUS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(as AGNES holds on "die")&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;College kids, college kids,&lt;br /&gt;Idiots, ahh!*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V0BHJoAK4l4/TaEUcu71M8I/AAAAAAAABP0/-JRLUvSsgDM/s1600/087.5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V0BHJoAK4l4/TaEUcu71M8I/AAAAAAAABP0/-JRLUvSsgDM/s320/087.5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593774696038740930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;*They put bubble wrap over Simon's head and started hitting.&lt;br /&gt;**Sword fighting with hockey sticks. Then they smashed heads and both collapsed. The girls downstage-left pointing and laughing are collapsed from wheelbarrowing across the room.&lt;br /&gt;***Keg stand!&lt;br /&gt;****I got lots of laughs running across the stage in a beer box. Plus it was nice and breezy. And if you're wondering, yes, I wore my underwear under the box. Except on Saturday. I still wore my underwear. I just wore them... on... my head. Afterwards, Morgan (Amy) told me she saw a bit of cheek.&lt;br /&gt;*****Funnels, as we all cheer them on. w00t!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-3229387479059910846?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/3229387479059910846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/04/and-then.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/3229387479059910846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/3229387479059910846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/04/and-then.html' title='And Then...'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EAwOzBOr3Ms/TaEU6azBh-I/AAAAAAAABQU/5x7hFcTD9iY/s72-c/068.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-7017349192132425750</id><published>2011-04-09T19:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-09T19:12:49.637-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='COLLEGE: the Musical'/><title type='text'>No P</title><content type='html'>Here's a reprise (not a preprise; no P). After Jay leaves, Katharine comes in. She and Nathan talk a bit. He asks if she remembers when they me. She answers:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;12A. Nathan and Katharine's Reprise*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken):&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(laughing)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait, do you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(playfully, flirtatiously)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kinda, fell into-- which I'm... sorry about, by the way-- but--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;I remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(smiles. Music crescendos. He mocks himself, playinga game with KATHARINE, but with an underlying sincerity. Sings:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's something in your eyes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(playing a game with him too, says:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You noticed I have eyes!**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;I wonder what you're thinking about...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;You are such a dweeb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Do you feel the way that I do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOTH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(leaning in for a possible**** kiss)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess there's only one way to find out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bxDv57D5iR0/TaESEsFMqRI/AAAAAAAABPs/kQn6EMa4wyo/s1600/054.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bxDv57D5iR0/TaESEsFMqRI/AAAAAAAABPs/kQn6EMa4wyo/s320/054.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593772083932604690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;*Remember &lt;a href="http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/02/first-installment-of-college.html"&gt;Katharine's part in "How Amazing is This?"&lt;/a&gt; when Nathan was fascinated by some Cool Ranch Doritos? This is to the same tune.&lt;br /&gt;**On our Saturday show, she followed that with, "...and not just boobs."&lt;br /&gt;***Until this line, Nathan sings and Katharine speaks.&lt;br /&gt;****It's only a possible kiss because, before they get there, Agnes barges or tumbles in, looking for Jay, and the music abruptly stops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-7017349192132425750?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/7017349192132425750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/04/no-p.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/7017349192132425750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/7017349192132425750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/04/no-p.html' title='No P'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bxDv57D5iR0/TaESEsFMqRI/AAAAAAAABPs/kQn6EMa4wyo/s72-c/054.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-8652400802424480071</id><published>2011-04-05T10:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-05T10:41:44.339-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='COLLEGE: the Musical'/><title type='text'>H2H</title><content type='html'>Nathan finds Jay in his room. They have a heart-to-heart, like Eric and I used to have when he'd get drunk and come to my room. Then:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;12. Reflection*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;Dude.&lt;br /&gt;All the girls wanna see me.&lt;br /&gt;All the guys wanna be just like me,&lt;br /&gt;Be around me, so yeah,&lt;br /&gt;Whatcha heard is all true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure.&lt;br /&gt;I'm as chill as they make 'em.&lt;br /&gt;Where's the party? I'll take right over.&lt;br /&gt;Take the spotlight, 'cause hey,&lt;br /&gt;It's me. It's what I do. And&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ooh, my life is pretty sweet.&lt;br /&gt;But ooh, it's kinda incomplete&lt;br /&gt;'Cause ev'ry night, once the magic show is through&lt;br /&gt;There's still one more person that I wish I knew.&lt;br /&gt;He's confiding in a freshman,&lt;br /&gt;On a Saturday at a quarter after two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN**&lt;br /&gt;Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;Guess my collar flips up now,&lt;br /&gt;And a dollar means one more beer at&lt;br /&gt;One more party,&lt;br /&gt;Try to remember one more name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;Hey.&lt;br /&gt;So you're learning the way to&lt;br /&gt;Smile and say that you like Dave Matthews,***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;You hate to study.****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;It's not real, you know? It's just a game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;But now ooh, you're somehow not the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;Ooh, not sure what I became&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOTH&lt;br /&gt;Or where to go from here, 'cause this is how it's gonna be&lt;br /&gt;Till I finally escape with my degree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;But for now I'll talk in monotone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Soaked in cologne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOTH&lt;br /&gt;At a quarter after three.*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOTH&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoping to god we fit in okay, hell,&lt;br /&gt;We started this act on the very first day.&lt;br /&gt;Wondering who is this guy we're all trying to be&lt;br /&gt;And what will he do to me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ooh, I think we all feel lost.&lt;br /&gt;Ooh, beneath our loud Lacoste&lt;br /&gt;Lies that little kid that we're all trying to ignore&lt;br /&gt;Who hopes after college he'll be something more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;But he still fakes smiles and handshakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Still that guy who doesn't get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;Just wants decent conversation,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Motivation,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOTH&lt;br /&gt;Aspiration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;Or just to disappear at half past four.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOTH&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--BxtMEi3meQ/TZtURBnRP8I/AAAAAAAABPM/hHR8VrP9ytA/s1600/053.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--BxtMEi3meQ/TZtURBnRP8I/AAAAAAAABPM/hHR8VrP9ytA/s320/053.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592156013778255810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;*I'm told that Drew Fornarola and Scott Elmegreen wrote this song first, then built the rest of the show around it.&lt;br /&gt;**Due to being sick and this song being at the end of the show, you could hear Nathan's voice starting to go (only the very slightest bit, here or there) by the end of this song. But only on opening night; the other shows were better. Especially considering he was still sick.&lt;br /&gt;***Me too!&lt;br /&gt;****Me too!&lt;br /&gt;*****Apparently, this song has been going on for an hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-8652400802424480071?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/8652400802424480071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/04/h2h.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/8652400802424480071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/8652400802424480071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/04/h2h.html' title='H2H'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--BxtMEi3meQ/TZtURBnRP8I/AAAAAAAABPM/hHR8VrP9ytA/s72-c/053.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-2397688441309929572</id><published>2011-04-03T12:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T12:44:44.896-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='COLLEGE: the Musical'/><title type='text'>An Accurate Designation of our Generation</title><content type='html'>The next morning, the football scene. A brief discussion of the word "meh." And then the awesomely hokey song:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;11. Generation Meh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;Our grandparents were the greatest&lt;br /&gt;Mom and Dad were Boomers&lt;br /&gt;But no one knows who we are yet.&lt;br /&gt;None* of the labels the experts pick&lt;br /&gt;Ever seem to really stick.&lt;br /&gt;Which makes us just a little bit upset.&lt;br /&gt;So without further ado&lt;br /&gt;I present to you&lt;br /&gt;Generation...&lt;br /&gt;meh.**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;Stuff sucks&lt;br /&gt;But there's nothing we can do about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Well, not without considerable effort.&lt;br /&gt;Armies forming and&lt;br /&gt;Global warming won't&lt;br /&gt;Simply go away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AMY&lt;br /&gt;Too bad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WILL&lt;br /&gt;Stuff sucks&lt;br /&gt;But there's nothing we can do about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Well, not without initiative and planning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;Dreaming big is so&lt;br /&gt;Overrated, though&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL (but NATHAN)&lt;br /&gt;Why not spend the day here&lt;br /&gt;Coasting through,&lt;br /&gt;Getting by;&lt;br /&gt;Doing our best not to try.&lt;br /&gt;Just like all our friends across the nation.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe we could make a stir,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;But apathy is easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;ALL (but NATHAN)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Generation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;Meh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;ALL (but NATHAN)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; Generation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;Meh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;ALL (but NATHAN)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; Generation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Meh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADRIENNE &amp;amp; AMY&lt;br /&gt;World's bad&lt;br /&gt;But there's nothing we can do about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SARAH &amp;amp; LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;Well, not without some discipline and focus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB &amp;amp; WILL&lt;br /&gt;But in that regard,&lt;br /&gt;Working hard is hard&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;We prefer to sit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;Things blow&lt;br /&gt;But there's nothing we can do about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SARAH&lt;br /&gt;Well, not without, like, taking off our headphones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Might be worth a shot--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;But we'd rather not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL (but NATHAN)&lt;br /&gt;It's less stress to quit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;Coasting through,&lt;br /&gt;Getting by;&lt;br /&gt;Doing our best not to try.&lt;br /&gt;Just like all our friends across the nation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MEN&lt;br /&gt;Don't buy what they try to teach ya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WOMEN&lt;br /&gt;Stay inside and read your Nietzsche.***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;ALL (but NATHAN)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; Generation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;Meh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;ALL (but NATHAN)&lt;/div&gt; Generation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WILL&lt;br /&gt;Meh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;ALL (but NATHAN)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; Generation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Meh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDDIE &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All right, everybody, let's do the apathy dance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(They do the most unenthusiastic dance break ever. These three lines are spoken over the course of the dancing:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;This is sooo lame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AMY&lt;br /&gt;Oh my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;God&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;Democrats are stupid and&lt;br /&gt;Republicans are evil&lt;br /&gt;So why bother to believe you'll&lt;br /&gt;Make a difference either way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AMY&lt;br /&gt;The terrorists keep plotting&lt;br /&gt;And diseases keep on spreading.&lt;br /&gt;No one quite knows where we're heading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;Maybe that's why kids today are&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Scared to fail&lt;br /&gt;Scared to death&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;All of us holding our breath&lt;br /&gt;Even as we roll our eyes and pout.&lt;br /&gt;We're wondering if we could come through&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Even if we wanted to&lt;br /&gt;Secretly afraid to go find out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;So for now we're all just&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;Coasting through,&lt;br /&gt;Getting by;&lt;br /&gt;Doing our best not to try.&lt;br /&gt;Just like all our friends across the nation.&lt;br /&gt;Sure the world will go to shit&lt;br /&gt;But we don't have to notice it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;GROUP 1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; Generation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GROUP 2&lt;br /&gt;Meh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;GROUP 1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  Generation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GROUP 2&lt;br /&gt;Meh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;GROUP 1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  Generation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GROUP 2&lt;br /&gt;Meh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GROUPS 1 &amp;amp; 2****&lt;br /&gt;Work (meh) Clean (meh) Vote (meh) Study (meh) Try (meh) Care (meh) Plan (meh) Thnik (meh)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(GROUP 3 enters here, singing LAs -- overlapping with below, happily, skipping around while plugging their ears, verse melody.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Protest (meh) Challenge (meh) Grow (meh) Reach (meh) Dream (meh) Fight (meh) Question (meh) Hope (meh) Work (meh) Clean (meh) Vote (met) Study (meh)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;Generation...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Meh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2BrIrbin8Yo/TZjNc18PG0I/AAAAAAAABO0/TukuQp3sqwc/s1600/051.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2BrIrbin8Yo/TZjNc18PG0I/AAAAAAAABO0/TukuQp3sqwc/s320/051.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591444832780229442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;*For the longest time, our Jay would always say "all" instead of "none," which sends the exact opposite message.&lt;br /&gt;**The word "meh" is never sung; always spoken.&lt;br /&gt;***At least two people in the cast (university students) at some point asked me what that line meant (and who/what Nietzsche is). I was thoroughly disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;****I was group 1. I was worried that I wouldn't be able to memorize all the words in order. But I did. Don't worry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-2397688441309929572?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/2397688441309929572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/04/accurate-designation-of-our-generation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/2397688441309929572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/2397688441309929572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/04/accurate-designation-of-our-generation.html' title='An Accurate Designation of our Generation'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2BrIrbin8Yo/TZjNc18PG0I/AAAAAAAABO0/TukuQp3sqwc/s72-c/051.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-735495733594585437</id><published>2011-03-31T21:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-31T21:37:55.538-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='COLLEGE: the Musical'/><title type='text'>We're in the Double Digits!</title><content type='html'>Katharine sees Nathan and Lindsay makkin'. She tips off Agnes and then, once everyone else has passed out, she sings:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;10. All Together, All Alone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;All together&lt;br /&gt;All alone&lt;br /&gt;Driving in circles in the dark.&lt;br /&gt;We're all wondering how&lt;br /&gt;We're gonna find our way&lt;br /&gt;And if we'd know it if we got where we're going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All together&lt;br /&gt;All alone&lt;br /&gt;Trying to do the best we can.&lt;br /&gt;A little over our heads&lt;br /&gt;Maybe misunderstood&lt;br /&gt;But all we want is just to know what we want&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're just kids&lt;br /&gt;Who feel old.*&lt;br /&gt;Still looking for answers to questions&lt;br /&gt;We don't know how to ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE &amp;amp; NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;All together&lt;br /&gt;All alone&lt;br /&gt;Wondering where to go from here.**&lt;br /&gt;But we wear a brave face&lt;br /&gt;And let ourselves go numb&lt;br /&gt;An wait for something to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE, NATHAN &amp;amp; CHORUS&lt;br /&gt;We're just kids          (All together, all alone)&lt;br /&gt;Who feel old.             (All together, all alone)&lt;br /&gt;Still looking for answers to questions&lt;br /&gt;We don't know how to ask.***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GROUP 1&lt;br /&gt;All together&lt;br /&gt;All alone&lt;br /&gt;Wondering where to go from here,&lt;br /&gt;GROUP 2&lt;br /&gt;All together&lt;br /&gt;All alone&lt;br /&gt;Driving in circles in the dark,&lt;br /&gt;GROUP 3****&lt;br /&gt;All together&lt;br /&gt;All alone&lt;br /&gt;Trying to do our best,*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;But we wear a brave face&lt;br /&gt;And let ourselves go numb&lt;br /&gt;And wait for something to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All together...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;All alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G0bQU_jmL6o/TZVWZopxaqI/AAAAAAAABOc/u96XL21Vuqo/s1600/043.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G0bQU_jmL6o/TZVWZopxaqI/AAAAAAAABOc/u96XL21Vuqo/s320/043.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590469510859680418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;*I feel like that a lot. Like when I was in grade 12. And on my 20th birthday.&lt;br /&gt;**For these three lines, Nathan sings it a bit later than Katharine, and they overlap.&lt;br /&gt;***Chorus on the left, Katharine and Nathan on the right. Similar overlapping for the last two lines, with the chorus, then Kath and Nath.&lt;br /&gt;****Usually Nathan and Katharine.&lt;br /&gt;*****Similar overlapping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-735495733594585437?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/735495733594585437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/03/were-in-double-digits.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/735495733594585437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/735495733594585437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/03/were-in-double-digits.html' title='We&apos;re in the Double Digits!'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G0bQU_jmL6o/TZVWZopxaqI/AAAAAAAABOc/u96XL21Vuqo/s72-c/043.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-950906587675930482</id><published>2011-03-30T20:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-30T21:21:27.380-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='COLLEGE: the Musical'/><title type='text'>Niner!</title><content type='html'>After Agnes' unsuccessful attempt to get evidence from Katharine of the party, the focus shifts to Nathan and Lindsay as:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;9. You're Good Enough for Now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(NATHAN tries to smoke pot, can't, and begins coughing hysterically. They talk:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;See? It's easy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Am I making any sense?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;Some...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;You see, when I get drunk, I get less... articulous...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;You're cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Lindsay... how can I put this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(sings):&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have this weird feeling.&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid it's here to stay&lt;br /&gt;'Cause I'm pretty sure drinking more&lt;br /&gt;Won't make it go away.&lt;br /&gt;And since you're really hot&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to do.&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'm sort in love with you, a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is happening so fast.&lt;br /&gt;Will it last? I can't see how.&lt;br /&gt;But we might as well.&lt;br /&gt;What the hell.&lt;br /&gt;You're good enough for now.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;I thought you were stupid.&lt;br /&gt;I actually still do.&lt;br /&gt;And I thought that you were immature&lt;br /&gt;And I still think that too.&lt;br /&gt;But I'm so bored right now&lt;br /&gt;That from my point of view&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'm sorta in love with you, a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is happening so fast.&lt;br /&gt;Will it last? I can't see how.&lt;br /&gt;But we might as well.&lt;br /&gt;What the hell.&lt;br /&gt;You're good enough for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Maybe we're meant to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I feel a spark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOTH&lt;br /&gt;Maybe people just seem better-looking in the dark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;I'm not saying let's move in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;I'm not saying let's get pets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOTH&lt;br /&gt;I'm just saying one night might be worth all the regrets.**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm willing to settle&lt;br /&gt;'Cause you have shown me how.&lt;br /&gt;You're out of mind when you're out of sight&lt;br /&gt;But I see you right now.&lt;br /&gt;We're not a perfect match&lt;br /&gt;You're not my dream come true&lt;br /&gt;But I guess I kinda maybe might be slightly sort of almost nearly somewhat rather fairly relatively&lt;br /&gt;In love with you.***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHORUS&lt;br /&gt;Ahh, ahh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN &amp;amp; LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;A little.&lt;br /&gt;And that's love enough for now.&lt;br /&gt;CHORUS&lt;br /&gt;Ooh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is happening so fast&lt;br /&gt;Will it last? I can't see how.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN &amp;amp; LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;But we might as well.&lt;br /&gt;What the hell...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ISOT94kmLJA/TZQA4h5lkzI/AAAAAAAABOE/WNulsw2uKi4/s1600/041.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ISOT94kmLJA/TZQA4h5lkzI/AAAAAAAABOE/WNulsw2uKi4/s320/041.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590094008646210354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;*This song sounds sweet at first listen. Or, it did for me. Then I actually listened to the lyrics, and discovered that it's hilairmo.&lt;br /&gt;**I told that to someone once. It must have been someone who was in the show, and got the reference. I wonder what I was talking about...&lt;br /&gt;***AWESOME line!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-950906587675930482?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/950906587675930482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/03/niner.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/950906587675930482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/950906587675930482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/03/niner.html' title='Niner!'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ISOT94kmLJA/TZQA4h5lkzI/AAAAAAAABOE/WNulsw2uKi4/s72-c/041.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-2571930381353878539</id><published>2011-03-29T10:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-29T11:04:44.278-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='COLLEGE: the Musical'/><title type='text'>After, 8</title><content type='html'>Agnes has set up camp outside Jay et al.'s room. She's waiting. Intermission. After that, the party starts with:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;8. Alcoholeluia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put in boldface the lines corresponding with the pictures they precede.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;JAY emerges from his room. He stands on his balcony, above the entering crowd, like a priest. Everyone masses like a creepy Gothic chorus below him. He begins to sing in Gregorian-style chant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;Brothers and sisters, we are gathered here tonight&lt;br /&gt;To worship the defining of the college experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(turning to the audience)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;To celebrate the one thing that unifies us all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(turning to the audience)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;To participate in the miracle that occurs on&lt;br /&gt;Campuses across America every Thursday, Friday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Saturday, and sometimes the other days too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ooh...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jSZHU--j410/TZIc6tKuDqI/AAAAAAAABMs/KIS60-Bvly8/s1600/026.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jSZHU--j410/TZIc6tKuDqI/AAAAAAAABMs/KIS60-Bvly8/s320/026.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589561882402754210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eddie! Tap the keg!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(as EDDIE taps the keg:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ooh...ahh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Gospel-rock feel begins&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;Life is hard but never fear&lt;br /&gt;Your one true calling is ever clear&lt;br /&gt;So come commit to getting lit today.&lt;br /&gt;If you believe, then you will see&lt;br /&gt;The pointlessness of sobriety&lt;br /&gt;With Jack in hand your problems float away!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Send your conscience on vacation&lt;br /&gt;And embrace annihilation.&lt;br /&gt;Let the beer be your salvation&lt;br /&gt;As you sing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alcoholeluia!&lt;br /&gt;Alcoholeluia!&lt;br /&gt;Grab a brew.&lt;br /&gt;Let it guide you through the night, ahh!&lt;br /&gt;Alcoholeluia!&lt;br /&gt;Get a few into ya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Oh Lord!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;We've seen the Miller Light.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T4amwRLN_nA/TZIdGRZ6QFI/AAAAAAAABM0/NsywaMSUERw/s1600/030.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T4amwRLN_nA/TZIdGRZ6QFI/AAAAAAAABM0/NsywaMSUERw/s320/030.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589562081108705362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken):&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;Hey, Nathan -- don't you look cute!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Thanks -- I changed shoes! Hey, do you know if Katharine's gonna be here tonight?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;I haven't seen her. Aren't you two in a fight?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;I guess so...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(LINDSAY touched him flirtatiously as she walks away, and NATHAN spills his drink on himself.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(sung):&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WOMEN&lt;br /&gt;Every day new troubles come&lt;br /&gt;But you can't let them distract you from&lt;br /&gt;The only faith with proof that you can see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MEN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;We speak in tongues and dance and shout&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And get so happy that we pass out***&lt;br /&gt;And isn't that the way that life should be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N3jtzzmjCqI/TZIdn6Lj_fI/AAAAAAAABNM/pbxHd9EkYhE/s1600/031.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N3jtzzmjCqI/TZIdn6Lj_fI/AAAAAAAABNM/pbxHd9EkYhE/s320/031.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589562658990063090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;So I'll loan ya a Corona.&lt;br /&gt;It'll change your whole persona.&lt;br /&gt;We'll get you in the zone and&lt;br /&gt;Then you'll sing...&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;Ooh, ah ah ah ah&lt;br /&gt;Ooh, ah ah ah ah&lt;br /&gt;Ooh, ah ah ah ah, ahh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;Alcoholeluia!&lt;br /&gt;Alcoholeluia!&lt;br /&gt;Drink with me, there's no need to be uptight. Ahh!&lt;br /&gt;Alcoholeluia!&lt;br /&gt;Feel it flowing through ya!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Oh Lord!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've seen the Miller Light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S4ruhA6uj24/TZIdeNu8U3I/AAAAAAAABNE/SqKKNlZxYYs/s1600/033.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S4ruhA6uj24/TZIdeNu8U3I/AAAAAAAABNE/SqKKNlZxYYs/s320/033.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589562492440040306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Dance break with overlapping chanting; each group continues as the next joins in.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GROUP 1&lt;br /&gt;Boot and rally. Boot, boot and rally.&lt;br /&gt;Boot and rally. Boot, boot and rally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GROUP 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Shit I have to piss again! Shit I have to piss again!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Shit I have to piss again! Shit I have to piss again!&lt;/span&gt;****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JI0aOcu1YpA/TZIdzfbGddI/AAAAAAAABNU/8qqty3XSTjw/s1600/037.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JI0aOcu1YpA/TZIdzfbGddI/AAAAAAAABNU/8qqty3XSTjw/s320/037.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589562857965909458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GROUP 3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Oh my god! I love this song!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Oh my god! I love this song!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GROUP 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Notice me. Please, notice me. Why won't you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Notice me. Please, notice me. Why won't you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cpevfCqrJD0/TZId7IZPVbI/AAAAAAAABNc/ho1x8DAUQFA/s1600/035.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cpevfCqrJD0/TZId7IZPVbI/AAAAAAAABNc/ho1x8DAUQFA/s320/035.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589562989223040434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GROUP 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;This guy! Look at this guy. Hey! This guy right here's amazing!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;This guy! Look at this guy. Hey! This guy right here's amazing!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6dS2jMgGuLo/TZIeCsvtmmI/AAAAAAAABNk/6IwYpmBX87U/s1600/036.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6dS2jMgGuLo/TZIeCsvtmmI/AAAAAAAABNk/6IwYpmBX87U/s320/036.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589563119240059490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;Have a shot of half a handle.&lt;br /&gt;Nothing else can hold a candle&lt;br /&gt;To liquor on demand! You'll&lt;br /&gt;Start to sing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(The group huddles together like an a capella group, each holding a shot.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alcoholeluia!&lt;br /&gt;Alcoholeluia!&lt;br /&gt;Pretty soon&lt;br /&gt;It'll start to taste all right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(shot)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ahh!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(throw their shots/cups)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9u49sIm-7RA/TZIeS5QJ_BI/AAAAAAAABNs/sU5Vu--AGks/s1600/038.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9u49sIm-7RA/TZIeS5QJ_BI/AAAAAAAABNs/sU5Vu--AGks/s320/038.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589563397475269650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alcoholeluia!&lt;br /&gt;It's what you gotta do, duh!&lt;br /&gt;Oh Lord!&lt;br /&gt;We've seen the Miller Light.&lt;br /&gt;Ahh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alcoholeluia!&lt;br /&gt;Alcoholeluia!&lt;br /&gt;Be born again&lt;br /&gt;Feel the spirits and unite, ahh!&lt;br /&gt;Alcoholeluia!&lt;br /&gt;Then boot and start anew, ya,&lt;br /&gt;Sing Lord!&lt;br /&gt;We've seen the Miller Light, ahh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Oh Lord!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;We've seen the Miller Light.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ph4zOvuYoe4/TZIcsre-B0I/AAAAAAAABMk/X9fW4uDNpiQ/s1600/041.5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ph4zOvuYoe4/TZIcsre-B0I/AAAAAAAABMk/X9fW4uDNpiQ/s320/041.5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589561641432647490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;*We were all wearing dark hoodies for this part, with our heads bowed so you couldn't see our faces. It was quite eerie.&lt;br /&gt;**And this is when we pulled off our hoods and it got all bright and junk.&lt;br /&gt;***Here, I passed out. Yes, I fell again. And not for the last time in the show, either.&lt;br /&gt;****Our girls said pee instead of piss. By the way, groups 1, 4, and 5 were guys; 2 and 3 were girls. I was in group 4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-2571930381353878539?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/2571930381353878539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/03/after-8.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/2571930381353878539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/2571930381353878539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/03/after-8.html' title='After, 8'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jSZHU--j410/TZIc6tKuDqI/AAAAAAAABMs/KIS60-Bvly8/s72-c/026.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-7059545233953847321</id><published>2011-03-28T10:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-28T10:41:50.348-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='COLLEGE: the Musical'/><title type='text'>Ending Seven</title><content type='html'>Okay, so number 7 doesn't end the first act, but it is the last song in act one. Well, where we had the intermission. The script doesn't actually have an intermission written into it.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, after "Tired," Jay announces another party for that night. Nathan argues with his parents over the phone, making for something of an awkward situation for the others. Everyone leaves but Nathan, Will, and Sarah. While Nathan sits at Simon's desk, Will and Sarah begin to talk:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;7. We're Who I Am&lt;/span&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken):&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WILL&lt;br /&gt;I'm just... I'm not the greatest when it comes to the little things in our relationship. I get stressed out, and maybe I'm not always as considerate as I could be... I often don't return your e-mails, or your voicemails, or your text messages... I've never remembered your birthday, or our anniversary... at parties I ignore you, and I flirt with other girls... or I go out without you and I come home drunk... and I never wanna cuddle--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SARAH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(cutting off WILL and the music vamp)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will, stop. Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WILL&lt;br /&gt;Sorry! I just wanna make sure it's not me you're tired of...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SARAH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(as the vamp starts up again)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WILL&lt;br /&gt;Yes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SARAH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(sings)*&lt;/span&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;There must have been a time&lt;br /&gt;When I kissed myself good night.&lt;br /&gt;I try to think of it&lt;br /&gt;But it doesn't quite ever feel right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was it&lt;br /&gt;Like on my own?&lt;br /&gt;Facing each morning alone&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't long ago, I know.&lt;br /&gt;And yet...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember.&lt;br /&gt;We're who I am now.&lt;br /&gt;Like I was&lt;br /&gt;Born the day we met.&lt;br /&gt;We're who I am.***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There must have been a time&lt;br /&gt;When I turned around and you weren't there.&lt;br /&gt;All that was guiding me&lt;br /&gt;Were some daydreams and pieces of prayer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if our&lt;br /&gt;Paths hadn't crossed?&lt;br /&gt;Would I be&lt;br /&gt;Wandering, lost?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wondering what this empty life could mean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't imagine.&lt;br /&gt;We're who I am now.&lt;br /&gt;No other&lt;br /&gt;Way it could have been.&lt;br /&gt;We're who I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(NATHAN looks up from the desk. He watches. SARAH continues, not noticing NATHAN.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day I disappeared.&lt;br /&gt;It was scary and wonderful all at once.&lt;br /&gt;I've vanished. There's only us,&lt;br /&gt;And no way I could ever go back, 'cause&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who would I be then?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(WILL kisses her.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I don't know what I would do.&lt;br /&gt;If there were no "I love you too."&lt;br /&gt;I would be no one without you.&lt;br /&gt;We're who I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h1c6al3nzpY/TZDIJIsUGhI/AAAAAAAABME/lVSCV44acsk/s1600/024.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h1c6al3nzpY/TZDIJIsUGhI/AAAAAAAABME/lVSCV44acsk/s320/024.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589187196844513810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;*This song actually quite reminds me of "Under Your Spell," Tara's song in &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Once_More,_with_Feeling_%28Buffy_the_Vampire_Slayer%29"&gt;"Once More, With Feeling."&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**When she first started this song, our Sarah was really quiet, which was a shame because she has such a nice voice. By January, though, she seemed much more confident, and had a much stronger voice.&lt;br /&gt;***It seems sweet, but when you consider this side plot with her, Will, and Jay, it's actually a bit depressing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-7059545233953847321?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/7059545233953847321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/03/ending-seven.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/7059545233953847321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/7059545233953847321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/03/ending-seven.html' title='Ending Seven'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h1c6al3nzpY/TZDIJIsUGhI/AAAAAAAABME/lVSCV44acsk/s72-c/024.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-499283531236962027</id><published>2011-03-24T21:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-24T22:16:42.215-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='COLLEGE: the Musical'/><title type='text'>The Real Six</title><content type='html'>Simon returns to his room, to find that now, everyone &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;else&lt;/span&gt; is studying, and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;they're&lt;/span&gt; all getting mad at &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;him&lt;/span&gt; for being loud. And, of course, he says, "What the hell." Katharine comes in, followed by Nathan, who's choosing to skip Spanish. Way to go, Rob. This is all your fault. Amy comes in, and quickly and energetically strings together a nearly incomprehensible series of run-on sentences concerning her participation in too many extra-curriculars. She collapses. Lindsay comes back, and Jay comes from his room. Nathan ponders his tiredness, pointing out he's done nothing all day. Amy proceeds to prove him wrong:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;6. Tired&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;AMY&lt;br /&gt;We're e-mail checkers and Ramen noodle makers,&lt;br /&gt;Poster putter-uppers and party partakers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(She accepts and drinks a Red Bull, and the music speeds up.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're rehearsal go-er to-ers and&lt;br /&gt;Sometime laundry do-ers.&lt;br /&gt;Hash connoisseurs, and piggy bank breakers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Chorus begins to trickle in; they're all there by the first chorus.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WILL &amp;amp; LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;We're relationship havers and roommate mediators&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;Butt sitter onners&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;And lunatic daters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADRIENNE&lt;br /&gt;We're soccer stars who play guitars at nursing homes, then go to bars&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;Knowing that we have a ten-page paper due later.&lt;br /&gt;So, yeah, we're all a little tired, but&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, in college that's required.&lt;br /&gt;There's so much to do, and there's only one you.&lt;br /&gt;So we whine and we droop and we ache&lt;br /&gt;'Cause we're constantly, ceaselessly, always awake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken):&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;I guess we are pretty tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AMY&lt;br /&gt;See?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(sung):&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;We're midnight pizza eaters, pajama bottom wearers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;Lecture sitter throughers and life lesson sharers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AMY &amp;amp; WILL&lt;br /&gt;We're on our knees* to try to please some Ph.D's and earn degrees&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;We're cell phone psychoanalysts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;And stereo blarers, so&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, we're all a little weary oh&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, because we've got this theory:&lt;br /&gt;No time for bed? Grab a Red Bull instead.&lt;br /&gt;It's a cycle you just can't shake&lt;br /&gt;When you're constantly, ceaselessly, always awake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;I was up all night doing homework.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;I was up all night playing Smash Fest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;I was up all night yelling at Rob,&lt;br /&gt;'Cause he was up all night playing Smash Fest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WILL&lt;br /&gt;I was up all night at the party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN &amp;amp; KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;We were up all night playing phone tag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDDIE &amp;amp; ADRIENNE&lt;br /&gt;We were up all night... can't remember why&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;Better get some sleep before I die!**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken):&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SARAH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(entering)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey guys... what're you doing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;We're tired!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SARAH&lt;br /&gt;Tell me about it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(sings, as everyone slowly gets up):&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of my 10 AM lecture and smiling every hour;&lt;br /&gt;Worrying and feeling like I have no power.&lt;br /&gt;The pressure to be pretty and to leave extremely witty away messages&lt;br /&gt;Just to say I'm in the shower&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;Having roommates and professors and parents to please--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;Tired!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;Conjunctivitis&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;And bibliographies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AMY &amp;amp; WILL&lt;br /&gt;Being caffeine machines who act obscene but still dress up on Halloween&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;We're tired of being in between, so maybe that explains why we...&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, we're all a little groggy&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, and sometimes life gets foggy&lt;br /&gt;Our bodies complain 'cause our lives are insane&lt;br /&gt;Maybe sooner or later they'll break.&lt;br /&gt;'Cause we're constantly, ceaselessly, always awake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(AGNES enters and sings counterpoint with the COMPANY)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AGNES&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(overlapping with lyrics below:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why won't they just go to sleep?&lt;br /&gt;I'm so tired of watching them stay up forever.&lt;br /&gt;Why can't they just go to bed?&lt;br /&gt;Just like normal people do?&lt;br /&gt;What is wrong with you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WILL&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting tired of being in Jay's shadow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting tired of living like a refugee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting tired of trying so hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN &amp;amp; JAY&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting tired of being me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON &amp;amp; LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting tired of not being respected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDDIE, ADRIENNE, AMY&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting tired of growing up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SARAH&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting tired of wondering who I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL (Except AGNES)&lt;br /&gt;Then damn, it's time to cram for an exam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MEN&lt;br /&gt;So&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, we're all a little burned out.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, that's just the way it turned out.&lt;br /&gt;WOMEN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(at the same time)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, we're all a little burned out.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;We're all in so deep that we can't even sleep***&lt;br /&gt;So we're certain to make some mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Music stops when EDDIE makes some sort of mistake****. Everyone stops briefly and looks at him before:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;Ow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;Sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;Dude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;'Cause we're constantly, ceaselessly, always awake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WOMEN&lt;br /&gt;Awake!&lt;br /&gt;Awake!&lt;br /&gt;MEN&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, we're all a little tired but&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, in college that's required.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;Endlessly awake!&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fK_HEL3LuNk/TYwk5Q5SBvI/AAAAAAAABLk/RtinY7p2Y2c/s1600/081.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fK_HEL3LuNk/TYwk5Q5SBvI/AAAAAAAABLk/RtinY7p2Y2c/s320/081.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587881803866310386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;*I fell &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;a lot&lt;/span&gt; in this song. At this part, we all fell to our knees, getting up at the next line.&lt;br /&gt;**We all fell on die.&lt;br /&gt;***Half of us (myself included) fell to the floor on this line; the other half helped us up on the next line.&lt;br /&gt;****For us, Eddie allowed Rob to fall while helping him up. The on time in the whole song that anyone fell and I didn't.&lt;br /&gt;*****Then we all fell to the ground. Again. By the end of show week, I had a huge bruise on the right side of my hip and my right knee, from always falling hard on that last one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-499283531236962027?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/499283531236962027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/03/real-six.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/499283531236962027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/499283531236962027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/03/real-six.html' title='The Real Six'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fK_HEL3LuNk/TYwk5Q5SBvI/AAAAAAAABLk/RtinY7p2Y2c/s72-c/081.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-1088062099068950199</id><published>2011-03-22T12:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-22T12:30:58.431-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='COLLEGE: the Musical'/><title type='text'>Ssssssssix (well...)</title><content type='html'>After Lindsay and Rob break up over a video game, Lindsay runs into Katharine, who's still upset about Nathan. After Lindsay tells Katharine perhaps the most hilariously awesome version of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Ant and the Grasshopper&lt;/span&gt; that I have ever heard, Katharine tries calling Nathan, but gets his voicemail. Then:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;5A. He's a Dweeb (All Together, All Alone Preprise*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;I don't get it.&lt;br /&gt;He's a dweeb.&lt;br /&gt;But somehow I care about that&lt;br /&gt;Stupid little twerp.&lt;br /&gt;Because there's something there&lt;br /&gt;Even though he sucks.&lt;br /&gt;Jeez.**&lt;br /&gt;I wanna beat him up.&lt;br /&gt;Or else make out...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some girls fall&lt;br /&gt;For the captain of the football team or the poet.&lt;br /&gt;Some girls fall&lt;br /&gt;For the tall ones or the tough ones or the ones with green eyes.***&lt;br /&gt;That said then,&lt;br /&gt;Of course I&lt;br /&gt;Fall for a guy that I kinda hate. Great.&lt;br /&gt;Nice going, Kath'rine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, I like him.&lt;br /&gt;Like... a lot.&lt;br /&gt;Even if I can't understand exactly why.&lt;br /&gt;But now it's three-o-five&lt;br /&gt;And I am late for class.&lt;br /&gt;And my professor will not care&lt;br /&gt;That I'm in love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0pheVZdPL4o/TYj3uTV7oHI/AAAAAAAABLE/Skm5s035Rj0/s1600/080.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0pheVZdPL4o/TYj3uTV7oHI/AAAAAAAABLE/Skm5s035Rj0/s320/080.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586987712591405170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Because apparently that's a word.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**&lt;/span&gt;That one word is spoken.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;***I'm not a football player or a poet, tough or tall. But I have green eyes. WIN.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-1088062099068950199?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/1088062099068950199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/03/ssssssssix.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/1088062099068950199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/1088062099068950199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/03/ssssssssix.html' title='Ssssssssix (well...)'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0pheVZdPL4o/TYj3uTV7oHI/AAAAAAAABLE/Skm5s035Rj0/s72-c/080.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-7417459584995343778</id><published>2011-03-12T18:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T19:27:38.695-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='COLLEGE: the Musical'/><title type='text'>Five Years (Well, Posts) of COLLEGE</title><content type='html'>Once Agnes' songliloquy (that's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my&lt;/span&gt; word, so back off!) is done, the guys talk and play for a bit. Then, Lindsay comes in. She's pissed at Rob because he's (as usual) playing &lt;a href="http://mirageloss.blogspot.com/2011/02/its-my-birthday.html"&gt;Smash Fest&lt;/a&gt;. She gives him an ultimatum:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;5. Click, Smash!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken):&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;That's it, Rob! You have to choose. It's me or Smash Fest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;Me or Smash Fest!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(to NATHAN)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Easiest choice ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;Oh, come on -- Lindsay, don't do this!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Hey! I got a kill!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WILL&lt;br /&gt;You killed yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;Don't test me, Rob.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;Lindsay, it's not like that. You have to appreciate the finer points of this game!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, it's real cerebral.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;No, seriously!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(sings)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It might seem like a wasted of time&lt;br /&gt;To sit around a bid TV&lt;br /&gt;But, baby, you don't realize&lt;br /&gt;What animated violence means to me!&lt;br /&gt;Click, smash! It gives us such a rush to&lt;br /&gt;Click, smash! annihilate and crush you&lt;br /&gt;Have to understand that it brings a boy joy to&lt;br /&gt;Click, smash, pointlessly destroy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;Rob, if you think you're gonna get through to me--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WILL, EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;A huge surge of adrenaline&lt;br /&gt;Accompanies each burst of flame&lt;br /&gt;Hey everyone, I'm Superman*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;Don't try to tell me this is just a game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB, WILL, NATHAN, EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;Click, smash! Hey, look! That guy's defenseless!&lt;br /&gt;Click, smash! We'd better beat him senseless.&lt;br /&gt;You have to understand that it brings a boy joy to&lt;br /&gt;Click, smash, pointlessly destroy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;Jesus, Rob, just stop it! Guys, this is not impressing me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;Lindsay, have you even been listening to us?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;Yes! You're the one who isn't listening to--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;Lindsay, please. Come here, come over here!** Now take my controller.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(He gets behind her and puts his arms around her. His hands hold her hands as they both hold the controller.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, just... think of it like a romantic movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(sings, as the other guys do some aahs and oohs.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see you alone in the distance&lt;br /&gt;There are thousands of stars in the sky&lt;br /&gt;You look so appealing, there's no use concealing&lt;br /&gt;The feelings I'm feeling inside.&lt;br /&gt;I follow you out to the edge of the pier&lt;br /&gt;And you turn and realize that I'm here&lt;br /&gt;And the drama slowly increases...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(They are about to kiss. ROB, at the last minute, pulls away, turns to the TV and starts hitting buttons violently)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Till I smash your kneecaps to pieces!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;Dammit, Rob! Goodbye!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(She throws the controller and storms out.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;I think she's gone, dude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;Meh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(sing)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They never understand that it brings a boy joy&lt;br /&gt;To click, smash! Pointlessly destroy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(A rockin' ballet dance break ensues, in which they violently but gracefully fight/dance like ballerinas. They all die, lie motionless for a moment, respawn, and continue fighting. And dancing. ADRIENNE enters.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADRIENNE&lt;br /&gt;Hey, guys? What're you doing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(The boys freeze, embarrassed to be caught dancing ballet.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;Playing Smash Fest...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Pause; ADRIENNE looks incredulous.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WILL&lt;br /&gt;It's kind of a guy thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADRIENNE&lt;br /&gt;Can I play?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(The boys looks dumbfounded for a moment.)&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;ROB&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Uh... sure. Eddie, hand it over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;Because you suck!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(EDDIE gives ADRIENNE the controller.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now Adrienne, the controls might take some getting used to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WILL&lt;br /&gt;Whoa!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;Ah! Wait! Stop! Who's hitting me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADRIENNE&lt;br /&gt;Sorry. My bad. Tee hee!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(All the boys turn to ADRIENNE, a mix of surprise and longing. She sings:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's time to show the boys who's boss.&lt;br /&gt;Come on, you guys, put up a fight!&lt;br /&gt;There isn't any place to hide.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, Rob, I've got you in my sight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADRIENNE, ROB&lt;br /&gt;Click, smash! I bashed you in the head, yeah!&lt;br /&gt;Click, smash! It's fun to make thing dead.&lt;br /&gt;WILL, NATHAN, EDDIE***&lt;br /&gt;Click smash ahh&lt;br /&gt;Click smash ahh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;You have to understand that it brings us all joy&lt;br /&gt;To click, smash, pointlessly destroy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADRIENNE, ROB&lt;br /&gt;Destroy!&lt;br /&gt;Destroy!&lt;br /&gt;WILL, NATHAN, EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;Click smash, smashy smashy click click&lt;br /&gt;Click smash, smashy smashy click click&lt;br /&gt;Click smash, smashy smashy click&lt;br /&gt;Click smash!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-31VNsDXXJpA/TXw5jpsO_nI/AAAAAAAABKM/T4JgTmS9EQA/s1600/022.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-31VNsDXXJpA/TXw5jpsO_nI/AAAAAAAABKM/T4JgTmS9EQA/s320/022.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583400922682162802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;*On this line, we did the Soulja Boy (did I spell that right) "Superman." It started out as a joke suggestion for one person to do, and it eventually got to all of us actually doing it.&lt;br /&gt;**Our Rob said, "Come over here so I can holler at you for a minute!"&lt;br /&gt;***I'm skipping skipping a line to indicate that these parts are sung at the same time. I can't do columns in this medium of writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-7417459584995343778?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/7417459584995343778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/03/five-years-well-posts-of-college.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/7417459584995343778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/7417459584995343778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/03/five-years-well-posts-of-college.html' title='Five Years (Well, Posts) of COLLEGE'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-31VNsDXXJpA/TXw5jpsO_nI/AAAAAAAABKM/T4JgTmS9EQA/s72-c/022.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-3621108605856816963</id><published>2011-03-09T16:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-09T17:21:57.517-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='COLLEGE: the Musical'/><title type='text'>4444</title><content type='html'>Soon after, a game of Smash Fest (Super Smash Bros. without the copyright issues) begins, much to Simon's chagrin. A few of the boys express worry about Agnes busting the party, but Jay dismisses them. What he doesn't know, however, is that Agnes is outside, expressing anticipation for the same thing the others are expressing worry for, as well as... other feelings for Jay, in a song that quite reminds me of "Hellfire" from Disney's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hunchback of Notre Dame&lt;/span&gt; (in general theme, not melody or specific content:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;4. As Long As it Takes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;AGNES&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Beginning with Agnes' March, as she sings along to it)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate Jay.&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes. I really do.&lt;br /&gt;I hate him.&lt;br /&gt;Ha, ha ha you hear&lt;br /&gt;That Jay? I'll get you&lt;br /&gt;Soon. Hm! Hm!&lt;br /&gt;Because I really... hate you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;So why can't I stop singing about you?*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(The music shifts, and AGNES' movement shifts with it. She begins singing and dancing beautifully.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how you do it.&lt;br /&gt;The charm, the grace, the style...&lt;br /&gt;You haunt my dreams and it seems&lt;br /&gt;Like every time you smile.&lt;br /&gt;I can't control the lust in me&lt;br /&gt;To get you into...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(uncomfortable pause)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...custody.*&lt;br /&gt;So know no matter what or who you do.&lt;br /&gt;For as long as it takes&lt;br /&gt;As long as it takes&lt;br /&gt;I'll be waiting here for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't get you out of my mind&lt;br /&gt;It's the kind of a bind that could cause insanity&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(gesture of insanity)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I back you into a corner&lt;br /&gt;You wink and you wriggle away!&lt;br /&gt;But I'm gonna fight till that one star-crossed&lt;br /&gt;Night when I'll have you at last&lt;br /&gt;And then I'll make you pay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you think you're magic&lt;br /&gt;And you might think so too.&lt;br /&gt;Until today you've had your way&lt;br /&gt;In everything you do.&lt;br /&gt;So laugh at me and have your fun&lt;br /&gt;But soon sweet justice will be done!&lt;br /&gt;And till then I swear I shall not rest&lt;br /&gt;For as long as it takes&lt;br /&gt;As long as it takes&lt;br /&gt;To end my glorious quest!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oNk5rVxa2yA/TXgneiAcSJI/AAAAAAAABKE/RW1aoNPqF6U/s1600/168483_731387762780_187903345_43016688_2959566_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oNk5rVxa2yA/TXgneiAcSJI/AAAAAAAABKE/RW1aoNPqF6U/s320/168483_731387762780_187903345_43016688_2959566_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582255143603947666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;*On opening night, after she said that line, someone in the audience yelled, "No way!"&lt;br /&gt;**This word was sung with a very... let's say sexy, exhalation. Kind of my favourite part of the song, mostly because of how it was delivered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-3621108605856816963?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/3621108605856816963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/03/4444.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/3621108605856816963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/3621108605856816963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/03/4444.html' title='4444'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oNk5rVxa2yA/TXgneiAcSJI/AAAAAAAABKE/RW1aoNPqF6U/s72-c/168483_731387762780_187903345_43016688_2959566_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-4707494621379988168</id><published>2011-03-01T05:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-09T17:22:27.236-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='COLLEGE: the Musical'/><title type='text'>Numéro Trois</title><content type='html'>Then Agnes comes. Jay charms his way out of junk (again). Remember that tomorrow. Anyway, then everyone leaves until it's just Nathan and Simon. Katharine comes. Nathan doesn't remember her. She get pissed and storms out. In a vain effort to get rid of Nathan, Simon inadvertently kicks off&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;3. Nathan's Song&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;It's not about you, Simon. It's about... needing a change.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;Do not sing about it.**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Seeing something new...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;Nathan! Do not sing about it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(sings)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sixteen seems so long ago&lt;br /&gt;I forgot how good it feels&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're eighteen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;To have the whole world out in front of you&lt;br /&gt;And a brand new set of wheels.&lt;br /&gt;To not know where you're going,&lt;br /&gt;But to know you're almost gone.&lt;br /&gt;Watch the past get small in the rearview mirror&lt;br /&gt;Turn the radio up and sing along.&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got the keys, it's time to see&lt;br /&gt;How fast this thing can go.&lt;br /&gt;Roll down the windows, hit the gas&lt;br /&gt;And blast into the night.&lt;br /&gt;I'm gunning it down a brand new road&lt;br /&gt;And going till it feels right.&lt;br /&gt;Gotta make up lost time, so there's&lt;br /&gt;No way I'm gonna stay.&lt;br /&gt;Come if you want to, or get out of my way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I learned that I&lt;br /&gt;Can have a hundred different faces&lt;br /&gt;And fingerprints that shift and change&lt;br /&gt;And simple choice replaces.&lt;br /&gt;The person you were yesterday&lt;br /&gt;With one you'd rather be.&lt;br /&gt;And suddenly new energy is&lt;br /&gt;Bursting out each part of me!&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got the keys, it's time to see&lt;br /&gt;How fast this thing can go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, yes it is!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Roll down the windows, hit the gas&lt;br /&gt;And blast into the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;What are you waiting for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;I'm gunning it down a brand new road&lt;br /&gt;And going till it feels right.&lt;br /&gt;Gotta make up lost time, so there's&lt;br /&gt;No way I'm gonna stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then don't stay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Come if you want to, or get out of my way.&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;I've got the keys!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOTH&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;Get out of my way.&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;Get out of my way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(as SIMON puts NATHAN in his desk chair, and rolls him toward the door:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;Get out of my way.&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Just as they reach the door, NATHAN stands up, with a new energy, much to SIMON's dismay)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get out of my way!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vT4eioAWOEQ/TWz_R2kuJlI/AAAAAAAABJ0/JV9qbfd5tLE/s1600/014.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vT4eioAWOEQ/TWz_R2kuJlI/AAAAAAAABJ0/JV9qbfd5tLE/s320/014.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579114720577594962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;*Nathan is scripted to say the word "about" a lot. I mean, a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lot&lt;/span&gt;. And our Nathan is the only person I have EVER met who actually says "abote."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;**Does it break a wall when they acknowledge breaking out into song? Like in &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Once_More,_with_Feeling_%28Buffy_the_Vampire_Slayer%29"&gt;"Once More, with Feeling?"&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-4707494621379988168?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/4707494621379988168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/03/numero-trois.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/4707494621379988168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/4707494621379988168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/03/numero-trois.html' title='Numéro Trois'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vT4eioAWOEQ/TWz_R2kuJlI/AAAAAAAABJ0/JV9qbfd5tLE/s72-c/014.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-4779730623777288863</id><published>2011-02-28T19:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-28T19:40:29.844-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='COLLEGE: the Musical'/><title type='text'>Numba Twoooo</title><content type='html'>The next morning, some shit goes down. Simon says "What the hell?" a lot, Eddie comes in and makes another mark on the wall with a Sharpie, and before long, we go into...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2. Simon Says&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm gonna go to the gym.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(speaks)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's great Eddie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;Yup! I think I'm gonna go to the gym!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(speaks)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You said that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;It's so much fun to lift and run&lt;br /&gt;And flex my pecs for everyone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(speaks)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;I really really like the gym&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm gonna go to the,&lt;br /&gt;Think I'm gonna go to the,&lt;br /&gt;Think I'm gonna go to the...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;Eddie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;What the hell?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(sings:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a test in a couple of hours.&lt;br /&gt;I need to read so I don't fail.&lt;br /&gt;Why can't it be quiet I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;This could affect my whole career.&lt;br /&gt;I dearly wish you'd disappear.&lt;br /&gt;Let's play Simon Says, and I say go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(pushes EDDIE out the door, just as Amy frantically enters)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AMY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(caffeinated)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Hey Simon, whatcha doin'?&lt;br /&gt;You look tires, I'm not tired.&lt;br /&gt;Ooh! Mol Bio, that's required&lt;br /&gt;I admire you for trying.&lt;br /&gt;It's too hard for me I think,&lt;br /&gt;It really hardly stinks in here.&lt;br /&gt;My nose is happy. You look crappy.&lt;br /&gt;Man, your eyes are pretty pink!&lt;br /&gt;The floor is muddy, buddy else&lt;br /&gt;I'm just a crazy fuddy duddy&lt;br /&gt;Whuddy you think? Crap! I'm out of Red Bull!&lt;br /&gt;Oh, wait! Here's one!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(drinks)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;To Simon's Bio preparation&lt;br /&gt;And his awesome education.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;What the hell?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AMY&lt;br /&gt;What what what what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(sung:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;I have a test in a couple of hours&lt;br /&gt;I need to read so I don't fail.&lt;br /&gt;Why can't it be quiet, who can say?&lt;br /&gt;If it's at all within your power&lt;br /&gt;Could you shut up for just one hour?&lt;br /&gt;Simon says get out of here, okay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(gets AMY out of the room, allowing ROB to get in)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;Come on! Take a break!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't play Smash Fest right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;Come on! Take a break!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a test in two hours!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;This test's a breeze. It's easy.&lt;br /&gt;Please?! You know you want to, dude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're in this class!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;Come on! Take a break!&lt;br /&gt;Come on! Take a break!&lt;br /&gt;'Cause let's be real, man, here's the deal, man,&lt;br /&gt;Either way you're screwed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(as ROB sits down to play a video game)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have a test in a couple of hours.&lt;br /&gt;I need to read so I don't fail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(entering, frustrated)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rob!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;Why can't it be quiet just one day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LINDSAY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were supposed to meet me half an hour ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;I think that I might get a "B"&lt;br /&gt;If you don't stop distracting me.&lt;br /&gt;Simon says you need to go away!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ROB and LINDSAY exit. SARAH enters to SIMON's increasing frustration. Music pauses momentarily.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;SARAH&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(yelling obnoxiously*, trying to find him)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Will!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WILL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(emerging from his room, sickeningly cute, speaks:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, Sarah. How was the rest of your night?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SARAH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(equally cute)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was fine. I missed you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;Oh my God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Music re-enters. WILL walks toward SARAH as they sing to each other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SARAH&lt;br /&gt;Sweetie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WILL&lt;br /&gt;Lovey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOTH&lt;br /&gt;Sugar pie.&lt;br /&gt;Tee hee, tee hee, tee hee!&lt;br /&gt;Mehnm-ehnm-ehnm-ehnmen!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SARAH&lt;br /&gt;Lovey-buggy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WILL&lt;br /&gt;Schmoopy eyes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're making me ill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOTH&lt;br /&gt;Tee hee, tee hee, tee hee!&lt;br /&gt;Mehnm-ehnm-ehnm-ehnmen!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SARAH&lt;br /&gt;Sweetheart, schnuckums.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WILL&lt;br /&gt;Dream come true!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SARAH&lt;br /&gt;Poopsie woopsie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WILL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(they hop together)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kangaroo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOTH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(making kissing noises&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;Mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah!&lt;br /&gt;You're so cute!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(screaming)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All right! Enough! For the love of God, stop!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(sings&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;I have a test in a couple of hours!&lt;br /&gt;I need to read so I don't fail...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SARAH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's go to your room, Will. It's loud in here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;They exit. SIMON slowly gathers himself. Just as relief sets in and he resumes his reading, all the doors suddenly burst open; EDDIE, AMY, ROB, LINDSAY, SARAH, WILL, and ADRIENNE** enter, and NATHAN pops up from under the blanket on the couch. They have realized that bothering SIMON is a lot of fun, and intend to capitalize on this. They all sing their verses in counterpoint, and then:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;ALL&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;SIMON SIMON SIMON SIMON&lt;br /&gt;SIMON SIMON SIMON SIMON SIMON!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIMON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(with a scream that ends all their singing)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT THE HELL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2-SuiF4yf7Q/TWxqiApkF3I/AAAAAAAABJk/avZ_hJLwLhA/s1600/012.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2-SuiF4yf7Q/TWxqiApkF3I/AAAAAAAABJk/avZ_hJLwLhA/s320/012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578951170927630194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;*Our Sarah was adorable, not obnoxious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;**Adrienne doesn't actually sing, but she is in the next scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-4779730623777288863?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/4779730623777288863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/02/numba-twoooo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/4779730623777288863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/4779730623777288863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/02/numba-twoooo.html' title='Numba Twoooo'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2-SuiF4yf7Q/TWxqiApkF3I/AAAAAAAABJk/avZ_hJLwLhA/s72-c/012.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-1804988195091664366</id><published>2011-02-27T19:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-27T19:48:30.228-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='COLLEGE: the Musical'/><title type='text'>First Installment of COLLEGE</title><content type='html'>It was recently made known to me that COLLEGE: the Musical is an awesome show. By recently, I mean September 2010 when I was cast (in the chorus) in the Canadian premiere at my school.&lt;br /&gt;It was made much more recently known to me that knowing lyrics would be desirable, which is understandable, 'cause they rock.&lt;br /&gt;So, presenting the first installment of posting lyrics to the songs so anyone can enjoy them (shit, I hope they don't find this blog in the backwaters of the Internet and get mad at me), I give you the show's opening number:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1. How Amazing is This?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;WOMEN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(while the men do some ooh-ing)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's ninety-nine degrees.&lt;br /&gt;The whole room smells like socks.&lt;br /&gt;It's crawling with disease.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;My God, this really rocks!&lt;br /&gt;Here we go again,&lt;br /&gt;Time for another college party.&lt;br /&gt;Get a drink and grab a partner,&lt;br /&gt;Pick a personality.&lt;br /&gt;And if it doesn't turn out right&lt;br /&gt;Then try again tomorrow night.&lt;br /&gt;Friends and freedom in four years of frozen time...&lt;br /&gt;How amazing is this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Did I tell you about the party? ...Of course I'm going -- I'm almost there! Look, I'm here, I can't -- I can barely hear you! ...I know, it's gonna be great! ...Listen, I'm at the door. I'll talk to you soon! ...Okay, thanks. Love you too... Mom.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Hangs up the phone, bumps into KATHARINE)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oops!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;Sorry!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Hi...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;Hi...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;I'm Nathan!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(laughs)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Katharine. Nice to meet you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(adorably enthusiastic)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you a freshman, too?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;No... I'm a sophomore. Why don't I introduce you to some of my--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;Hey, everybody! Watch me chug an entire gallon of milk!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5Po2b_exmhI/TWsakHjY6XI/AAAAAAAABJU/AxGd9OC-CMQ/s1600/007.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ooh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(sung, divided like beginning:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't see through all the smoke,&lt;br /&gt;Can't move, we're packed so tight.&lt;br /&gt;I think my eardrums broke,&lt;br /&gt;Oh what an awesome night!&lt;br /&gt;Here we go again,&lt;br /&gt;Time for another college party.&lt;br /&gt;Start the playlist, pass the pizza,&lt;br /&gt;Pick a pastel polo shirt.&lt;br /&gt;Sure, the whole world waits for me,&lt;br /&gt;But there's nowhere I'd rather be.&lt;br /&gt;Friends and freedom in four years of frozen time...&lt;br /&gt;How amazing is this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Oh my God. College is like... the greatest thing in the history of... ever!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(laughs)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, well, classes haven't really picked up yet. Just wait until midterms...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(genuinely excited)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are midterms awesome too?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;Um...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROB&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(holding a large bag of marshmallows)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm goin' for it! ...Chubby Bunny! ...Chubby Bunny! ...Chubby Bunny!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(KATHARINE sings, NATHAN speaks&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;There's something in his eyes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;There's something in this punch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;I wonder that he's thinking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Ooh! They've got Doritos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;Does he feel the way that I feel?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Aw, Cool Ranch!*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;Guess there's only one way to find out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;Hey again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(with his mouth full and having no idea how to interact with a girl)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Doritos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(laughing)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. So, um, Nathan, I was wondering... maybe later tonight, you might want to... I don't know, do something fun? Just you and me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;I would love to! Hey, maybe we could go out for--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AMY&lt;br /&gt;Oh my God, it's Jay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(sung:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;Is it Thursday or Saturday?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;I don't know!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;Either way, I'm not getting up tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;We might all be stressed or depressed or obsessed with a test&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;But tonight we're all blessed to be&lt;br /&gt;Guests at the best damn party&lt;br /&gt;To start, we all know it's sweat to forget you're upset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;We've mastered getting plastered!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;Cheers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AMY&lt;br /&gt;We're enamoured with getting hammered!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;Cheers!&lt;br /&gt;Just bring us some booze and good friends and loud music and Jay.&lt;br /&gt;Hey! We're all gonna be okay!&lt;br /&gt;Here we go again,&lt;br /&gt;Time for another college party.&lt;br /&gt;Somehow so much happens every night,&lt;br /&gt;But nothing ever changes.&lt;br /&gt;The story of the years we spent,&lt;br /&gt;Content to just experiment.&lt;br /&gt;With friends and freedom in four years of frozen time...&lt;br /&gt;How amazing is this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Who's that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;That's Jay. He's kind of a big deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(sung:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;Na na na na na na na na&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAY&lt;br /&gt;How amazing is this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(As chorus breaks into two groups, overlapping their "Na na na's" and "How amazing is this...'s"** during the dialogue;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;NATHAN begins to drink heavily with some of the other guys.&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(spoken:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATHARINE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(walking up to NATHAN and the others)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoa -- 'kay -- slow down, guys. Nathan's new at this. Nathan, you don't have to keep up with them...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDDIE&lt;br /&gt;Aw, Katharine, he's fine!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;Fine? I'm great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(trying to act as sober as possible:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Katharine. Katharine!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(whispers something in KATHARINE's ear; then, as he is swept up by the crowd, sings; the Na's and How amazing's continue:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Hey!&lt;br /&gt;This is what it's all about!&lt;br /&gt;Jay's the man.&lt;br /&gt;You're the man.&lt;br /&gt;I'm the man.&lt;br /&gt;We're... We're the man!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;Here we go again,&lt;br /&gt;Time for another college party!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5Po2b_exmhI/TWsakHjY6XI/AAAAAAAABJU/AxGd9OC-CMQ/s1600/007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5Po2b_exmhI/TWsakHjY6XI/AAAAAAAABJU/AxGd9OC-CMQ/s320/007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578581771233585522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;*Our Nathan hated Cool Ranch Doritos. And had to keep eating them.&lt;br /&gt;**Not really sure how to pluralize that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-1804988195091664366?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/1804988195091664366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/02/first-installment-of-college.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/1804988195091664366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/1804988195091664366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/02/first-installment-of-college.html' title='First Installment of COLLEGE'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5Po2b_exmhI/TWsakHjY6XI/AAAAAAAABJU/AxGd9OC-CMQ/s72-c/007.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-3296828183418209993</id><published>2011-02-15T08:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T08:47:13.679-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Validation</title><content type='html'>It's time for a great story that validates my awesomeness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last semester, in History of Ancient Greece (CL225), Dr. Young mentioned that Cleon was "riding a wave of popularity." As much as I loved her class, I was a bit bored so, naturally, I drew a little picture in my notes of a stick-man (Cleon) surfing on a tidal wave (of popularity).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week, while studying for my History of Ancient Rome (CL226) mid-term, I went through my notes for Roman Civ. (CL102) from last year. While flipping through the spiral notebook to find the beginning of my CL102 notes, I happened across something in my notes for Greek Civ. (CL101).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, apparently Dr. Schaus also said that Cleon was riding a wave or popularity, because I had drawn the exact same picture in those notes already. I probably even showed it to Jessica last year the same way I showed it to Victoria this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Validation of awesomeness? Check.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-3296828183418209993?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/3296828183418209993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/02/validation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/3296828183418209993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/3296828183418209993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/02/validation.html' title='Validation'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-6999468055413910146</id><published>2011-02-15T08:33:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T08:35:38.503-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Legal in the US in Ancient Rome</title><content type='html'>Yeah, that's right. I'm 20. But calculating my age the way they did in Ancient Rome, I'm 21, as I am in my 21st year. So if I cross the border and decide I want to drink, I can just tell them, "Dudes. I'm 21 in Ancient Rome. I'm of age." Then I can drink!&lt;br /&gt;(Plus, they're Americans, so they might actually fall for it. BAHAHAHA!!!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-6999468055413910146?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/6999468055413910146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/02/legal-in-us-in-ancient-rome.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/6999468055413910146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/6999468055413910146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2011/02/legal-in-us-in-ancient-rome.html' title='Legal in the US in Ancient Rome'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-2627318884923111241</id><published>2010-10-25T20:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-25T20:33:08.831-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Invested</title><content type='html'>I've realized that when I listen to music, I get really emotionally invested in it. Especially when I know the lyrics. Because I'll sing along. Not necessarily out loud, but I do. And I emote. I make faces, even. I realized this when I was listening to my iPod on the city bus once.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-2627318884923111241?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/2627318884923111241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/10/invested.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/2627318884923111241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/2627318884923111241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/10/invested.html' title='Invested'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-6299599158463915904</id><published>2010-10-22T18:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-22T18:23:42.650-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All Over the Place</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Ellen Page is awesome.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/TMI5DF6-xMI/AAAAAAAAA_s/wAHKUHrm0gA/s1600/ellenpage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/TMI5DF6-xMI/AAAAAAAAA_s/wAHKUHrm0gA/s320/ellenpage.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531046017656341698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Kitty Pryde, aka Shadowcat, is awesome.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/TMI47TytKbI/AAAAAAAAA_k/CqrHT7TsOcs/s1600/shadowcat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/TMI47TytKbI/AAAAAAAAA_k/CqrHT7TsOcs/s320/shadowcat.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531045883940776370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ellen Page playing Kitty is awesomecats all over the place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/TMI4w7KXKuI/AAAAAAAAA_c/DrX_FznCIOI/s1600/Kitty_Pryde_in_X3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/TMI4w7KXKuI/AAAAAAAAA_c/DrX_FznCIOI/s320/Kitty_Pryde_in_X3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531045705530419938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Just sayin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-6299599158463915904?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/6299599158463915904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/10/all-over-place.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/6299599158463915904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/6299599158463915904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/10/all-over-place.html' title='All Over the Place'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/TMI5DF6-xMI/AAAAAAAAA_s/wAHKUHrm0gA/s72-c/ellenpage.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-1385729442424830834</id><published>2010-06-28T05:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T05:43:27.623-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Run Over</title><content type='html'>I've almost run over a lot of things at my work. But I don't think I've actually hit anything. Except maybe that chipmunk. I'm not sure...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. That happens when you work at a bird sanctuary.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-1385729442424830834?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/1385729442424830834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/06/run-over.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/1385729442424830834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/1385729442424830834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/06/run-over.html' title='Run Over'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-6849725419616786698</id><published>2010-06-28T05:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T05:42:13.685-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thankful</title><content type='html'>A little while back, I mentioned to a co-worker that, on my days off that week, I had been picking stones. He commented on how picking stones is the worst job in the universe, and I would have to agree. I've actually compiled a list of things worse than picking stones, and the list isn't very long. In no particular order:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Slavery;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Genocide, or murder of any sort;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Justin Bieber's music and the like;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Orcs;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Country music; and&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Twilight&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;So, yeah. That's how bad picking stones is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, when he said it's the worst job in the universe, I said, "You're tellin' me!" As soon as I said it, I realized I had almost said, "You're preaching to the choir." Immediately thereafter, I reflected on how glad I was that I didn't say that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank peas I didn't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-6849725419616786698?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/6849725419616786698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/06/thankful.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/6849725419616786698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/6849725419616786698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/06/thankful.html' title='Thankful'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-4482198332028614931</id><published>2010-06-28T05:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T05:36:40.187-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Little Bit</title><content type='html'>I hate myself a little bit. I got up at 6:30 this morning. Peed, had some Cheerios, got dressed for work, pood, brushed my teeth, Facebooked a bit, and left for work at 7:30. It's about a half-hour drive from my house to my work. Which, by the way, is on the other side of the 45th Parallel. In other words, I live closer to the North Pole than to the Equator, but I work closer to the Equator than to the North Pole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, at 7:52, I was coming into town, and then I remembered... Shipoopi (I'm trying to swear less, so I've replaced the last letter of one certain swear with "poopi," making it into the name of a song from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Music Man&lt;/span&gt;. You can't go wrong with musical theatre, I think). I don't work at 8 today. I work at 1:30.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I hate myself. A little bit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-4482198332028614931?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/4482198332028614931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/06/little-bit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/4482198332028614931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/4482198332028614931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/06/little-bit.html' title='A Little Bit'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-3470487406812782678</id><published>2010-06-28T05:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T05:31:22.003-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lots O'</title><content type='html'>I've lots o' things to say, and finally a chance to say them. So, several posts today!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-3470487406812782678?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/3470487406812782678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/06/lots-o.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/3470487406812782678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/3470487406812782678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/06/lots-o.html' title='Lots O&apos;'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-3720870266038067391</id><published>2010-02-26T17:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T17:51:55.507-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Supernatural Pornographers</title><content type='html'>So, I was watching an episode of Supernatural (I'm still watching the episode; that's how excited I am), and Dean was talking to some college kid, and I noticed a poster the guy had on the wall: The New Pornographers' album "Twin Cinema!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S4h6qBblaoI/AAAAAAAAAxc/lLao7AhqqFk/s1600-h/twincinema.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S4h6qBblaoI/AAAAAAAAAxc/lLao7AhqqFk/s320/twincinema.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442735012034472578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, it's right there! Huzzah!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S4h6j4q62JI/AAAAAAAAAxU/M2L73HX2dZs/s1600-h/Supernatural.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 264px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S4h6j4q62JI/AAAAAAAAAxU/M2L73HX2dZs/s320/Supernatural.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442734906603657362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-3720870266038067391?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/3720870266038067391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/02/supernatural-pornographers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/3720870266038067391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/3720870266038067391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/02/supernatural-pornographers.html' title='Supernatural Pornographers'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S4h6qBblaoI/AAAAAAAAAxc/lLao7AhqqFk/s72-c/twincinema.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-5089062652810398680</id><published>2010-02-23T18:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T08:36:04.637-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Peas</title><content type='html'>Aw, peas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S4SLnH-y-QI/AAAAAAAAAwI/Fg7ADEWYSfg/s1600-h/peas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 258px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S4SLnH-y-QI/AAAAAAAAAwI/Fg7ADEWYSfg/s320/peas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441627754043996418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-5089062652810398680?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/5089062652810398680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/02/peas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/5089062652810398680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/5089062652810398680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/02/peas.html' title='Peas'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S4SLnH-y-QI/AAAAAAAAAwI/Fg7ADEWYSfg/s72-c/peas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-8165672279537735634</id><published>2010-02-17T09:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-17T09:59:33.351-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My New Theory</title><content type='html'>I've a new theory. My theory is that men aren't meant to buy underwear for themselves. We can if we like, but we're not meant to. My reasoning is: the packaging. I don't see how a picture of a guy with chiseled abs and a big package is supposed to entice me to buy the underwear...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S3wufOIhV2I/AAAAAAAAAr8/no_P6tQ8Ms0/s1600-h/productimg1262938891697.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 249px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S3wufOIhV2I/AAAAAAAAAr8/no_P6tQ8Ms0/s320/productimg1262938891697.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439273563861374818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-8165672279537735634?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/8165672279537735634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/02/my-new-theory.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/8165672279537735634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/8165672279537735634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/02/my-new-theory.html' title='My New Theory'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S3wufOIhV2I/AAAAAAAAAr8/no_P6tQ8Ms0/s72-c/productimg1262938891697.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-2112510641915021880</id><published>2010-01-14T12:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T12:19:44.881-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tetris of the Caribbean</title><content type='html'>Sometimes, when I play Tetris, I play music from "Pirates of the Caribbean," so that it seems more monumental and less like I'm wasting my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S098PjQM2iI/AAAAAAAAAnE/MRX2YHWyY64/s1600-h/tetris.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 319px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S098PjQM2iI/AAAAAAAAAnE/MRX2YHWyY64/s320/tetris.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426692682607811106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-2112510641915021880?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/2112510641915021880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/01/tetris-of-caribbean.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/2112510641915021880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/2112510641915021880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/01/tetris-of-caribbean.html' title='Tetris of the Caribbean'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S098PjQM2iI/AAAAAAAAAnE/MRX2YHWyY64/s72-c/tetris.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-2614532757531821978</id><published>2010-01-13T14:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T14:42:20.507-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Half 'n' Half</title><content type='html'>I am half centaur, half human.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S05L_iy6b9I/AAAAAAAAAm0/c1O66FL0eMg/s1600-h/IMG_1492.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S05L_iy6b9I/AAAAAAAAAm0/c1O66FL0eMg/s320/IMG_1492.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426358156072218578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-2614532757531821978?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/2614532757531821978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/01/half-n-half.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/2614532757531821978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/2614532757531821978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/01/half-n-half.html' title='Half &apos;n&apos; Half'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S05L_iy6b9I/AAAAAAAAAm0/c1O66FL0eMg/s72-c/IMG_1492.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-6542921427316226742</id><published>2010-01-12T07:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T07:20:11.307-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Unexpected</title><content type='html'>You know how they always tell you to expect the unexpected? That's a load. If you expect the unexpected, then you're expecting it, so it's the expected not the unexpected. The saying should be, "Always expect the expected."&lt;br /&gt;Then again, that's a little redundant and doesn't get the point of the expression across. So let's go with this: "Always expect what typically wouldn't be expected in order to prevent it from being the unexpected."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also.&lt;br /&gt;You know that whole "You miss every shot you don't take" thing? Again: a load.&lt;br /&gt;You can't miss a shot you don't take. I mean, if you don't take it, you can't make it, but that doesn't mean you miss it. That's the whole point of taking a shot: so that you don't miss it. People don't take shots because there's an element of risk, and they're afraid they'll miss. As a result, they refrain from taking a shot so that they &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; miss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-6542921427316226742?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/6542921427316226742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/01/unexpected.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/6542921427316226742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/6542921427316226742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/01/unexpected.html' title='The Unexpected'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-9222771921104592873</id><published>2010-01-04T09:34:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T09:40:02.024-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Taxation</title><content type='html'>Hey, I was wondering... do they charge tax on gumballs from gumball machines? I mean, it's what, 25 cents?&lt;br /&gt;So, let's suppose the gumball machine owner buys the gumballs to fill his/her gumball machine at 17 cents each.&lt;br /&gt;Is he/she actually charging, say, 23 cents a gumball, with 2-cent tax? So then, of the 25 cents made for each gumball, 17 of that was to buy it, 2 goes to the government, and the owner gets to pocket the 6-cent profit.&lt;br /&gt;Or does the government find gumball machines too inconsequential to bother charging tax, giving the gumball machine owner an 8-cent profit on each 17-cent gumball?&lt;br /&gt;Hmm....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's thoughts like these that make the world go 'round.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S0In55K4DvI/AAAAAAAAAlk/wTwViwdoukc/s1600-h/gumball.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S0In55K4DvI/AAAAAAAAAlk/wTwViwdoukc/s320/gumball.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422940776859963122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-9222771921104592873?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/9222771921104592873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/01/taxation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/9222771921104592873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/9222771921104592873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2010/01/taxation.html' title='Taxation'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S0In55K4DvI/AAAAAAAAAlk/wTwViwdoukc/s72-c/gumball.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-2648345247957268880</id><published>2009-11-07T15:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-07T15:31:27.007-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Practically Perfect in Every Way</title><content type='html'>When I was a little kid, I always wanted to be able to have a robin just sit on my hand and sing along with me. I also tried snapping my fingers when cleaning my room, and I thought that, if I listened really hard, my reflection would have its own, separate voice.&lt;br /&gt;Boy, was I in for a world of disappointment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/SvYDQ6bImcI/AAAAAAAAAZM/ylPY0p0PX9A/s1600-h/poppins.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/SvYDQ6bImcI/AAAAAAAAAZM/ylPY0p0PX9A/s320/poppins.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401508392173345218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, Mary Poppins. Thanks a lot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-2648345247957268880?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/2648345247957268880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/11/practically-perfect-in-every-way.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/2648345247957268880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/2648345247957268880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/11/practically-perfect-in-every-way.html' title='Practically Perfect in Every Way'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/SvYDQ6bImcI/AAAAAAAAAZM/ylPY0p0PX9A/s72-c/poppins.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-4264587136035747480</id><published>2009-09-25T16:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T16:31:06.486-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Poster Sale</title><content type='html'>Remember how I mentioned the poster sale? Well that ended today at 5pm. I got a few, and for really good prices! I got a Van Gogh ("Open Air Cafe");&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/Sr1SqE87L1I/AAAAAAAAASw/dT91ShazM7k/s1600-h/Van+Gogh+-+Open+Air+Cafe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 256px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/Sr1SqE87L1I/AAAAAAAAASw/dT91ShazM7k/s320/Van+Gogh+-+Open+Air+Cafe.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385551612242243410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;two Eschers ("Drawing Hands"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/Sr1Sk4eTB_I/AAAAAAAAASo/GnrEO6HWgkE/s1600-h/DrawingHands.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 277px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/Sr1Sk4eTB_I/AAAAAAAAASo/GnrEO6HWgkE/s320/DrawingHands.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385551522993211378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and "Reptiles");&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/Sr1SgMbpPDI/AAAAAAAAASg/cG2J54B9Cis/s1600-h/Escher+-+Reptiles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 278px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/Sr1SgMbpPDI/AAAAAAAAASg/cG2J54B9Cis/s320/Escher+-+Reptiles.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385551442451446834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a Steez one called "Turntables;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/Sr1SZ_NkqXI/AAAAAAAAASY/G8MOdQ-PXq4/s1600-h/steez.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 210px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/Sr1SZ_NkqXI/AAAAAAAAASY/G8MOdQ-PXq4/s320/steez.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385551335823550834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and, my biggest one,&lt;br /&gt;by Andy Warhol himself,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/Sr1STAfKI9I/AAAAAAAAASQ/203y79Nv4Ow/s1600-h/Velvet+Underground+and+Nico.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 310px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/Sr1STAfKI9I/AAAAAAAAASQ/203y79Nv4Ow/s320/Velvet+Underground+and+Nico.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385551215906661330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Velvet Underground and Nico."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-4264587136035747480?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/4264587136035747480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/09/poster-sale.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/4264587136035747480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/4264587136035747480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/09/poster-sale.html' title='Poster Sale'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/Sr1SqE87L1I/AAAAAAAAASw/dT91ShazM7k/s72-c/Van+Gogh+-+Open+Air+Cafe.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-3742436130411533677</id><published>2009-09-12T20:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T20:22:30.111-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Many Exciting Things are Approaching</title><content type='html'>Let's list them, shall we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1- Spiral Beach's new album&lt;br /&gt;2- Islands' new album&lt;br /&gt;3- The release of "Where the Wild Things Are"&lt;br /&gt;4- Classes start Monday&lt;br /&gt;5- The release of the film "Nine"&lt;br /&gt;6- the release of the film "9" was this week&lt;br /&gt;7- The poster sale at our school.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-3742436130411533677?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/3742436130411533677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/09/many-exciting-things-are-approaching.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/3742436130411533677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/3742436130411533677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/09/many-exciting-things-are-approaching.html' title='Many Exciting Things are Approaching'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-7042883999604207567</id><published>2009-08-30T20:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T20:15:32.382-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I need your prayers!</title><content type='html'>So, yesterday my Oma (that's Dutch for grandmother) suffered a massive stroke. I'm asking that you all pray for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Additionally, my aunt has cancer for a second time. Please, pray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't care if you see this years after I post this; God is out of time and will hear your prayers anyway. Please, pray for my Oma and my aunt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-7042883999604207567?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/7042883999604207567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-need-your-prayers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/7042883999604207567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/7042883999604207567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-need-your-prayers.html' title='I need your prayers!'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-608387981476234487</id><published>2009-08-26T18:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T18:21:34.398-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Comedic Drama</title><content type='html'>I oftentimes like to pretend my life is comically dramatic, like in the awesome show "Pushing Daisies." That was such a great show! Why did it get canceled?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, my antics, now and then, turn out similar to the show (no, I can't bring dead things back to life). I have even, recently, started hearing Jim Dale's voice in my head, narrating the key points of my life, in the show's style.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://api.ning.com/files/yaw*c5E-wUU1z54InGVfj0KgIE*O9XuJVs6tsu4lk0WLCbj1iwyqtdJzVx8fd3ruCfvYPRCqjtSs3M-TVmyrlAaiYieQL8jC/PushingDaisies.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 378px; height: 283px;" src="http://api.ning.com/files/yaw*c5E-wUU1z54InGVfj0KgIE*O9XuJVs6tsu4lk0WLCbj1iwyqtdJzVx8fd3ruCfvYPRCqjtSs3M-TVmyrlAaiYieQL8jC/PushingDaisies.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-608387981476234487?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/608387981476234487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/08/comedic-drama.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/608387981476234487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/608387981476234487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/08/comedic-drama.html' title='Comedic Drama'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-8047756056188526658</id><published>2009-08-26T11:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T11:22:00.874-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Also Excited About October 16th</title><content type='html'>And that's because that is when "Where the Wild Things Are" is set for release. I've had the book since I was a little kid, and I am so freaking pumped about the film!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/7/7b/Wherethewildthingsare.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 390px; height: 566px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/7/7b/Wherethewildthingsare.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-8047756056188526658?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/8047756056188526658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/08/im-also-excited-about-october-16th.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/8047756056188526658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/8047756056188526658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/08/im-also-excited-about-october-16th.html' title='I&apos;m Also Excited About October 16th'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-7836762143151662701</id><published>2009-08-25T15:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T15:46:58.260-07:00</updated><title type='text'>September 22nd will be a big day!</title><content type='html'>Islands have a new album coming out. It will be called "Vapours."&lt;br /&gt;I would post a related link, but couldn't find one clearly advertising the album.&lt;br /&gt;So...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.islandsareforever.com/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spiral Beach have a new album being released on the same day. It will be called "The Only Really Thing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.spiralbeach.com/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-7836762143151662701?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/7836762143151662701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/08/september-22nd-will-be-big-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/7836762143151662701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/7836762143151662701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/08/september-22nd-will-be-big-day.html' title='September 22nd will be a big day!'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-5598833176336336625</id><published>2009-08-15T11:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-22T09:24:58.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Characters from The O.C. Who I Hate</title><content type='html'>I don't understand how I can like a show so much when I hate so many of the characters, but I do.&lt;br /&gt;I've decided to compile a list of all the characters who I hate. They are, in no particular order:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Marissa Cooper&lt;/span&gt; (How can you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; hate her? Although she does have her good moments. But in the coma episode, you see how she ruined Kaitlin's life by not dying.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jimmy Cooper&lt;/span&gt; (At the beginning, he's not that bad, but he keeps making the same stupid mistake. "If you're going to leave again... Don't come back." -Marissa (in one of her good moments.))&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Rebecca&lt;/span&gt; (I don't know her last name)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;J&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ulie Cooper-Nichol&lt;/span&gt; (I don't actually hate her; she's awesome. But I included her because I love to hate her, you know?)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caleb Nichol&lt;/span&gt; (What a jerk!)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lindsay whatever&lt;/span&gt; (I hate her with her stupid braid and her oboe and her mad-libs and her "Ryan, you're ex-girlfriend is so beautiful. Love my evil dad!")&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Charlotte what's-her-face&lt;/span&gt; ("Now I suggest you leave, because there's only room in this town for one manipulative b****." -Julie Cooper-Nichol)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dean Hess&lt;/span&gt; (with his bad haircut and sweater-vests. Ugh.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Taylor Townsend and Summer Roberts&lt;/span&gt; (But in both cases, only at first. It didn't take me long to realize how awesome they are!)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Luke's brothers&lt;/span&gt; (They're really annoying, and they don't even look like twins.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kaitlin Cooper&lt;/span&gt; (That annoying, shop-lifting, drug-...doing teenager really cheesed me off, but she got more bearable once Marissa wasn't around to drag her down.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Veronica Townsend&lt;/span&gt; (What a b****-a-roonie-doonie!)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Johnny's cousin&lt;/span&gt; (I'm sorry, but she's a bit of, for lack of a better word, a ho-bag.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Theresa&lt;/span&gt; (I HATE HER SO MUCH! I can't even begin to explain how much I hate her, so let's move on.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Volchok&lt;/span&gt; (I don't know if you noticed, but he's actually a really bad actor.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Che&lt;/span&gt; (He's an annoying hippie who got Summer kicked out of Brown for stuff he did. He called her a weak gazelle. I only like him when he's in Newport (and with Seth in the surrounding forest). Except, of course, in Alt-World.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Some Girl&lt;/span&gt; (You see her for about five seconds in the comic book store after Seth says, "Did you just ask me if there's an X-Men comic based on the movies?" and before she runs out crying. Still, you can't help feeling sorry for her.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-5598833176336336625?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/5598833176336336625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/08/characters-from-oc-who-i-hate.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/5598833176336336625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/5598833176336336625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/08/characters-from-oc-who-i-hate.html' title='Characters from The O.C. Who I Hate'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-7478629804429315101</id><published>2009-08-14T09:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T09:53:16.352-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blasphemy</title><content type='html'>So, my mom has a page-a-day calendar of cookie recipes. Yesterday, the recipe was for Jelly Coconut Squares. That's disgusting. I mean, first of all, jelly does not sound nearly as appetizing as jam, right? And coconuts are absolutely narsty. Yes, that's right: narsty. When I tried to think of something more absolutely repulsive, the only thing I thought of was Jelly Coconut Blasphemy. Yes, using Jelly Coconut to blaspheme against God Most High.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of which, I saw on a picnic table yesterday, quite unfortunately, two sentences:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No gods, no master.&lt;br /&gt;Ni dieu, ni maitres."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only were they inconsistent with pluralizations, they also neglected to put a necessary accent circonflexe (is that how you spell it?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that's not what even got me. It was the lame atheist graffiti. I hate teenagers. They're so stupid and immature. And yes, I do realize I am one of them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-7478629804429315101?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/7478629804429315101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/08/blasphemy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/7478629804429315101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/7478629804429315101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/08/blasphemy.html' title='Blasphemy'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-3861221897964887037</id><published>2009-08-12T20:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T19:53:05.833-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Super Awesome Awesome Super Dream Awesome Band Awesome</title><content type='html'>I have devised a band. It works much the same way as Broken Social Scene, in that all the members are members of other bands, or solo artists. Also, they're all Canadian. There are even some of the same members. Anyway, this is who would be in the band:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Win Butler&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;R&lt;/span&gt;égine Chassagne&lt;/span&gt; of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Arcade Fire&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Leslie Feist&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; who is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Feist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jim Guthrie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nicholas Thornburn&lt;/span&gt; of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Islands&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Human Highway&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;el Plaskett&lt;/span&gt; of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Joel Plaskett Emergency&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Emi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ly Haines&lt;/span&gt; of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Metric&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Kathryn Calder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AC&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Newman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The New Pornographers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Maddy Wilde&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Airick Woodhead&lt;/span&gt; of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Spiral Beach&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Torquil Campbell&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Amy Millan&lt;/span&gt; of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Stars&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara Quin&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tegan Quin&lt;/span&gt; of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tegan &amp;amp; Sara&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dave Monks&lt;/span&gt; of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tokyo Police Club&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Liam Corcoran&lt;/span&gt; of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Two Hours' Traffic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Paul Murphy&lt;/span&gt; of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wintersleep&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;So that's it. That's what it is. If any of the above-mentioned people happen across this, please please &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;please&lt;/span&gt; get into contact with the other ones and form this band. I would be eternally grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think a good band name would be, "A Victim of His Own Demise." See, it sounds ironic, because he's a victim of his own, but it's really not, because it's his demise. Obviously he's a victim of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;Me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Eternally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.P.S. I'm writing this part On September 12th. Emily, I dearly hope you kept that tiny piece of paper I gave you after your show at Wilfrid Laurier, and you found this. Please, if you do, let me know. I think the result can be as phenomenal as you were tonight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lets_go_gnoming@hotmail.com&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-3861221897964887037?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/3861221897964887037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-super-awesome-awesome-super-deam.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/3861221897964887037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/3861221897964887037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-super-awesome-awesome-super-deam.html' title='My Super Awesome Awesome Super Dream Awesome Band Awesome'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-6179019100295897417</id><published>2009-07-31T17:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T20:58:07.954-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Name</title><content type='html'>Through the help of Wikipedia, I have recently realized what moonshine is. So, I made up a more believable-sounding name for me. Got it? Now I'm Thomas Krol.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-6179019100295897417?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/6179019100295897417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/07/new-name.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/6179019100295897417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/6179019100295897417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/07/new-name.html' title='New Name'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-5418820700802402109</id><published>2009-07-23T13:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T13:34:23.958-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick and Disgusting</title><content type='html'>Last week, I disappointed myself in realizing that I've begun using the word sick, when not referring to a person, plant, or animal with a malady or the Ottoman Empire in the 1800s. No, I've been using it to mean "cool." For shame, Storm! For shame!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm not far into it, so it'll be easy enough to stop, and return to saying, "sweet" or "sweetness." I say both. Plus, every time I say "sweetness," I hear in my head, "Sweetness never suits me when I get it up to take you home..." That's the beginning of the song "Midnight Coward" by Stars. It's a good song, and it makes me happy when I hear it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-5418820700802402109?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/5418820700802402109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/07/sick-and-disgusting.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/5418820700802402109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/5418820700802402109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/07/sick-and-disgusting.html' title='Sick and Disgusting'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-6807614655732164723</id><published>2009-07-21T17:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T17:19:01.151-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mirage of Loss</title><content type='html'>You should all check out my other blog, called Mirage of Loss. The link is... somewhere around here. It's my ploy to get people to like good music, instead of that crap that annoying teenagers listen to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-6807614655732164723?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/6807614655732164723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/07/mirage-of-loss.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/6807614655732164723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/6807614655732164723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/07/mirage-of-loss.html' title='Mirage of Loss'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-2024466020780130279</id><published>2009-07-09T15:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T15:58:14.168-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scared the Crap Out of...Well, Not Me</title><content type='html'>In our grade 12 World History class, Lisa revealed to me that she had many fears. Throughout the semester, I compiled a comprehensive list of her fears. Don't worry; she has no racist fears. And do not ridicule her; she has a good reason for each.&lt;br /&gt;Her fears, in order of their discovery, are these:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;capital letters&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;cheese&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;universities&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;swimming&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;breast feeding, breast pumps, and other related paraphernalia&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;getting a cut&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;the economy&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;the news&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;stock market crash and/or recession&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;failing&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;spiders&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;clowns&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cirque du Soleil, and the interaction it entails&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;lethal diarrhoea&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;demons&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;skeletons dancing around her body&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;airplanes&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;driving&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;downtown in cities (mostly everywhere outside the town she lives in)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;malls&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;parking lots&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;lots of people&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;taxis&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;city buses&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Greyhound buses&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;germs&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;getting beheaded&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;being in debt&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;taxes&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;mortgage&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;getting stabbed in the eye by a monkey&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;giant squid&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;boating&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;waterskiing&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;parachuting&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;bungee jumping&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;jumping out of a plane&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;world-wide famine&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;epidemics&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;malaria&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;travel&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;cutting tomatoes&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;our history teacher&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;open-sea boating&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;inflation&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;the NDP party&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;communism&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;wave pools&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;messed up schedules&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;falling off a bridge while changing a tire&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;sulphuric acid&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;a truck losing its brakes and crashing into her&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;flesh-eating diseases&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;drinking water&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;corporal punishment&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;epidurals&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;insurance&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;hobos&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;pandemics&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;tuberculosis&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;uranium&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;tupperware&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;apples&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;ice cubes&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;the school librarian&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;giving birth&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;the world&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;night time&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;It&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;land mines&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;getting kicked out of university&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-2024466020780130279?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/2024466020780130279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/07/scared-crap-out-ofwell-not-me.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/2024466020780130279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/2024466020780130279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/07/scared-crap-out-ofwell-not-me.html' title='Scared the Crap Out of...Well, Not Me'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-938961925872871769</id><published>2009-07-09T07:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T07:51:07.439-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I need a job</title><content type='html'>Seriously, guys. I need a job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-938961925872871769?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/938961925872871769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-need-job.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/938961925872871769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/938961925872871769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-need-job.html' title='I need a job'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-7163218075154535764</id><published>2009-07-08T14:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T14:13:18.139-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Title</title><content type='html'>Alright! I would like to share with you all the meaning of my blog's title. Well, to be honest, I'm not entirely sure what the meaning is. It's a quote from this great song called "Rough Gem" by an equally great band called "Islands." They are a Montreal-based band that my cousin from British Columbia told me about. She's the only other person in the world that I know who listens to Islands. Sometimes that makes me happy, 'cause I love Indie music and knowing bands that other people don't. However! It makes me sad that everyone is missing out on the awesomeness that is Islands. Hmm......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-7163218075154535764?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/7163218075154535764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/07/title.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/7163218075154535764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/7163218075154535764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/07/title.html' title='Title'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-8213833595478394018</id><published>2009-07-08T13:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T13:04:57.725-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Moonshine</title><content type='html'>So I just googled my name (not my real one) and it turns out Storm Moonshine is an actual thing. Not a person, but a thing. Apparently it's a cleaning product for...bowling pins?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.bowling.com/products/storm-moonshine-particle-polish---cleaner.htm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know. Me too. I was equally shocked as you are. Or is it equally &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;as&lt;/span&gt; shocked? My shock was at the same level as yours is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dag.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-8213833595478394018?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/8213833595478394018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/07/moonshine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/8213833595478394018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/8213833595478394018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/07/moonshine.html' title='Moonshine'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8195611817811691857.post-2518900695677428073</id><published>2009-07-08T12:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T12:58:05.992-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day One</title><content type='html'>Ah, yes. Day One of my new blog. I can't believe it. After years of making fun of blogs and bloggers, I am finally doing it myself. And why? Because &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;someone&lt;/span&gt; told me to. Yes, Lisa, I'm talkin' 'bout you. No matter. What's done is done, and I have a blog now. Might as well make the best of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I've decided to use an alias for my blog. Remain undercover. Storm Moonshine, my name shall be, and my name shall be Storm Moonshine. (I'm a guy, by the way.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there it is: my first post. Really makes me not proud. Not proud indeed...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8195611817811691857-2518900695677428073?l=scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/feeds/2518900695677428073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/07/day-one.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/2518900695677428073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8195611817811691857/posts/default/2518900695677428073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scoopoutmybrain.blogspot.com/2009/07/day-one.html' title='Day One'/><author><name>Thomas Krol</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18324765267851440208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zddsl4Aucs4/S5ammneKDcI/AAAAAAAAAzE/MG2yc0RMiZM/S220/532.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
