<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904</id><updated>2009-02-22T02:43:43.916+11:00</updated><title type='text'>monkey with a typewriter III</title><subtitle type='html'>Yet another collection of random words that occasionally form sentences</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default?orderby=updated'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;orderby=updated'/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>170</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106309333990416274</id><published>2003-09-09T17:42:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-09-09T17:58:24.376+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Does blogger still hate me?</title><content type='html'>Stupid blogger. Stupid, tricksy bloggers. We hates them. Of &lt;strong&gt;course&lt;/strong&gt; it decides to publish now that I've made a new blog. Bastard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://monkeyIV.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.quizilla.com/S/sugarpills/1063093200_tureshouse.JPG" border="0" alt="I've moved house!"&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106309333990416274?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106309333990416274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106309333990416274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106309333990416274' title='Does blogger still hate me?'/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106276568194250797</id><published>2003-09-05T22:41:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-09-05T22:41:21.870+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh blogger, why dost thou hatest me so?</title><content type='html'>*cries*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't bear it any longer!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;stupid blogger.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106276568194250797?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106276568194250797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106276568194250797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106276568194250797' title='Oh blogger, why dost thou hatest me so?'/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106264232564286137</id><published>2003-09-04T12:25:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-09-04T12:26:08.510+10:00</updated><title type='text'>*sings* It's over, it's over, oh my god it's over!</title><content type='html'>DRAMA GP IS OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WOOHOO!!!!!!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that's pretty much all there is to say. I'm very tired, and my sanity is hanging by a thread.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.quizilla.com/S/sugarpills/1062641392_cturesover.JPG" border="0" alt="IT'S OVER!"&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;font size="-1"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;font size="-3"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106264232564286137?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106264232564286137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106264232564286137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106264232564286137' title='*sings* It&apos;s over, it&apos;s over, oh my god it&apos;s over!'/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106241084768535299</id><published>2003-09-01T20:07:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-09-01T20:07:27.716+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Blogger still steadfastly refuses to post for me. Bastard.</title><content type='html'>I hate blogger SO much. It's only when the damn thing fucks up that I relaise how much I really enjoy blogging, pointless though it is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*pines for publishage*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106241084768535299?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106241084768535299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106241084768535299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106241084768535299' title='Blogger still steadfastly refuses to post for me. Bastard.'/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106231090427120974</id><published>2003-08-31T16:21:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-31T16:21:44.243+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Quizzes that blogger will refuse to publish.</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://images.quizilla.com/T/tweak23/1059729692_casablanca.jpg" border="0" alt="casablanca"&gt;&lt;br&gt;"You must remember this, a kiss is still a&lt;br&gt;kiss". Your romance is Casablanca. A&lt;br&gt;classic story of love in trying times, chock&lt;br&gt;full of both cynicism and hope. You obviously&lt;br&gt;believe in true love, but you're also&lt;br&gt;constantly aware of practicality and societal&lt;br&gt;expectations. That's not always fun, but at&lt;br&gt;least it's realistic. Try not to let the Nazis&lt;br&gt;get you down too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://quizilla.com/users/tweak23/quizzes/What%20Romance%20Movie%20Best%20Represents%20Your%20Love%20Life%3F/"&gt; &lt;font size="-1"&gt;What Romance Movie Best Represents Your Love Life?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;font size="-3"&gt;brought to you by &lt;a href="http://quizilla.com"&gt;Quizilla&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106231090427120974?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106231090427120974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106231090427120974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106231090427120974' title='Quizzes that blogger will refuse to publish.'/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106220199696948139</id><published>2003-08-30T10:06:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-30T10:06:36.953+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It drives me absolutely nuts when my internet fucks up. I just can't handle it. I guess it's kind of pathetic that I have such a dependency on this stupid inanimate object. But I use the net for so many things! I use it, most importantly, to procrastinate, But also to do research, to blog, to find pretty pictures of Brian Molko and mostly, to catch up with my friends. *pines for an agreeable internet* This sucks Testikles. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In recent news, I have now managed to make yet another seemingly polite person cuss like a sailor, not unlike the cockatoo my great-grandfather once owned. *points and laughs at Evan* It's almost as much of a victory as making my mum swear. I was so proud of that. *beams* I'm not evil, honest! Okay, so maybe I am a little. But it's a good evil. I'll keep telling myself that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was the muck-up photo, where the entire grade went out of their way to look like dickheads, instead of doing it accidentally like they normally do. It was amusing, because a few of us forgot to bring our illegally obtained traffic cones etc. so we borrowed them from the school. LOL. So everyone else had these pilfered signs, and we had these perfectly legitimate ones from the school groundskeepers. Oops. Still, I got to hold a "SLOW" sign over Erin's head, so I'm happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only is my internet fucking up, but I’m completely out of phone credit too. I’m completely isolated in terms of communication. I FEEL SO ALONE! Okay, so I’m being a tad melodramatic, but it still totally smells bad. Back to the net issue, blogger wouldn’t let me publish, so all my shiny template adaptations are currently hiding. I’ve said it before, and I’m bound to say it again, I hate blogger. *smites blogger* Okay, my rage has now subsided, to be replaced by complete and utter apathy and tiredness. Thus, I’ve lost all impulse to blog. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106220199696948139?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106220199696948139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106220199696948139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106220199696948139' title=''/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106214669956056742</id><published>2003-08-29T18:44:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-29T21:19:08.153+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't have anything to say, but my bitch-whore blog won't let me publish my template changes without posting. I hate you blogger. *hisses*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106214669956056742?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106214669956056742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106214669956056742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106214669956056742' title=''/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106207401909848072</id><published>2003-08-28T22:33:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-28T22:33:39.100+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today was stressful to say the least. But hey, I'm in denial now, so it's all good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Things I'm worried about, just to get them off my chest.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- fucking up drama for Evan and Nicky&lt;br /&gt;- making a total arse of myself onstage&lt;br /&gt;- not getting special provisions&lt;br /&gt;- not looking good for the valedictory dinner and formal&lt;br /&gt;- STUFF&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like being stressed. I'm so not used to it, because I usually don't give a fuck. *pines for apathy*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*reverts to childhood and starts drawing pretty pictures in the sand* &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106207401909848072?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106207401909848072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106207401909848072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106207401909848072' title=''/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106197513537565489</id><published>2003-08-27T19:05:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-27T19:05:35.380+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Things happen for a reason, of that I am certain. Sometimes however, I have difficulty figuring out what the fuck that reason is. Lately I've been recieving "coincidental" reminders of something that happened over a year ago. I have a vague idea of what they're suggesting, at least the general thing, but I can't for the life of me figure out whether they're saying yes or no. Yeah, I know that this post is cryptic. Big deal. I'm not in a mood to be open. I'm taking a page from the books of my male freinds and repressing, repressing, repressing. My friends have made me an emotional retard. Or maybe I always was one. But it's so much easier to shift blame. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were so many things I wanted to say today but didn't. I couldn't really. Pfft. Damn secrets. They corrode the soul even more than coke does. But what can you do? Nothing. FUCK ALL. *whines*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a hug. Got one of them elves handy Jenny?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106197513537565489?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106197513537565489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106197513537565489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106197513537565489' title=''/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106188218091906848</id><published>2003-08-26T17:16:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-26T17:16:20.910+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I had a strange dream last night. Usually I forget my dreams before I wake, and this one is now mostly forgotten. The one thing that sticks in my mind about this one is a particular phrase I said in the the dream. As rare as it is for me to remember a dream, it's even rarer for me to remember the exacts words used in a dream. But these words circled in my mind the whole day. "Even if it was a choice, I would love you"- I have no idea who I said it to the dream though. So odd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still tired. I'm bored too. I'm summoning Jenny, but with no succcess. So very annoying. *pines for sleep and decent convo*&lt;br /&gt; Pfft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106188218091906848?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106188218091906848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106188218091906848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106188218091906848' title=''/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106180463018825482</id><published>2003-08-25T19:43:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-25T19:43:50.173+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>*sings*&lt;br /&gt;I.P. is done!  YAY!!!&lt;br /&gt;I feel this enormous sense of relief, but I'm still very apprehensive about the group project. So much to do. *imitates Mike and ignores problem* There's nothing I can do about it at this very moment, so I simply won't think of it. I'm so very tired. I got a total of three hours sleep this morning, and an hour's worth of fitful napping on the common room couch during Ancient History and a free. I'm dead to the fucking world. *falls asleep*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*wakes with a start*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well this is a waste of a post. I'm too tired to even form coherent sentences. I was hopeless today, acting almost as though I were drunk. Too tired to talk, walk or even balance standing up.  Need sleep. Need so much sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note to Jenny: we're going formal shopping asap, okay? I'll scrounge the time somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*meanders off to find sleep*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106180463018825482?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106180463018825482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106180463018825482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106180463018825482' title=''/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106171523099426977</id><published>2003-08-24T18:53:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-24T18:53:50.990+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>*looks at I.P.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*shrugs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It'll all be over soon, which I'm glad of. I just wish it was already over. Once I.P is done, the mammoth task of completing the Group Work takes precedence. And after that; study. Watch me giving a fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The HSC is so not worth the effort. But there isn't much time left. I'm counting the seconds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for the shitty post. I'm just shitty today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sleeps*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106171523099426977?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106171523099426977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106171523099426977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106171523099426977' title=''/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106164096573683756</id><published>2003-08-23T22:16:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-23T23:24:35.316+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I spent several hours doing my I.P. today. There's still quite a bit left to be done, but at least I've made a dent into it. I should be doing research right now, but to be honest, my brain isn't used to working for more than two hours a day. I've used up today's cranial capacity. Now I'm only fit for writing inane blog entries and unimaginative conversation.&lt;br /&gt;In recent news, Mike STILL doesn't get blogging. I'd put a link in, but I've not gotten permission yet. Perhaps it's unfair to say he doesn't GET blogging. He just does it very differently to the way I think it should be done. But hey, who cares. I'm hardly going to read it anyway. I have such a short attention span lately.&lt;br /&gt;I love deliberately inciting reactions in people. It's such a power trip, knowing that doing or saying one particular thing will always produce a particular response in a person. It's a game. And it's very fun to play. &lt;br /&gt;*grins evilly*&lt;br /&gt;me=incendiary&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.redbull.com/product/images/redbull_dose.gif" border="0" alt="suck crap Evan!"&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;font size="-1"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106164096573683756?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106164096573683756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106164096573683756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106164096573683756' title=''/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106147124035678403</id><published>2003-08-21T23:07:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-21T23:07:20.380+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>*remembers a certain incident today*&lt;br /&gt;Don't taint my happy, even if it is at someone else's expense. I KNOW you like them, but I don't. And it isn't without reason. Perhaps it isn't my war, but I'm going to fight it anyway. It's not like anyone else will. And anyway, it's FUN. It's not like I particularly damage the other party. They just whinge about it a lot.&lt;br /&gt;STOP BEING SO CONDESCENDING! Or at least fucking say something instead of giving me "bad kitty" scolding looks. I'm only doing what's deserved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pfft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sees emotion crawling along the ground*&lt;br /&gt;AARRGHHH! FEELINGS!! MUST SQUISH! MUST KILL!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;*jumps frantically up and down on emotions, smashing them to a pulp*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And who said I couldn't do impressions?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106147124035678403?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106147124035678403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106147124035678403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106147124035678403' title=''/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106145571957295839</id><published>2003-08-21T18:48:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-21T18:48:39.540+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I really should be doing my drama I.P. right now. Pfft. I have so little inclination. I can't imagine doing anything but sleeping with any particular fervour.&lt;br /&gt;I don't even have the inclination to blog. I actually have no idea why I'm still typing. I have nothing to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106145571957295839?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106145571957295839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106145571957295839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106145571957295839' title=''/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106138831666248165</id><published>2003-08-21T00:05:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-21T00:05:16.663+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>*abandons all hope*&lt;br /&gt;* realises I never had any*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a shitter of a day. I was poor company, and spent large parts of the day licking my (partly) self-inflicted wounds.  The tangible tension in the air at school has grated on my nerves until they're withered beyond recognition.  I'm wondering how I can stand another day of post-exam stress-induced self-absorbed whining. More importantly, I'm wondering how much more I can take of being surrounded by people who repress their every emotion as though it were a mortal sin to express feeling. It's so fucking stifling. I love my friends, all of them. I really do. I'm just desperate for someone to be blunt, honest and open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*rant complete*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106138831666248165?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106138831666248165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106138831666248165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106138831666248165' title=''/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106129439904471742</id><published>2003-08-19T21:59:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-19T21:59:59.020+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://groups.msn.com/_fetch.msnw?action=MyPhotos_GetPubPhoto&amp;PhotoID=nJgB6GD8KqqXhzy8sFVmiVcoViMQIkurV2tvuiB2C9IsLDWJjlb!LhRUQexB12dw25aHOTd8uuVo&amp;pgmarket=en-au" border="0" alt="tinkerbell!"&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;font size="-1"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106129439904471742?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106129439904471742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106129439904471742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106129439904471742' title=''/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106129277047395908</id><published>2003-08-19T21:32:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-19T21:32:50.453+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>*cowers in a corner, twitching nervously and apprehensively*&lt;br /&gt;This could be bad.&lt;br /&gt;And that could be even worse.&lt;br /&gt;Oh dear. The messes we make for ourselves. Oh dear oh dear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm feeling rather paranoid. Had you guessed? *glances quickly over shoulder*&lt;br /&gt;Everything could turn out sooo badly. Very bad indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*crawls off to find a blankie*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106129277047395908?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106129277047395908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106129277047395908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106129277047395908' title=''/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106112129130310920</id><published>2003-08-17T21:54:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-17T22:00:40.590+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="6699FF"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Kitty's Product of the Day: Aaron's Quick and Easy Love Test&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 simple questions, guaranteed to provide you with an answer to your burning question, whether you like it or not. Fan-fucking-tastic.&lt;br /&gt;Available for just $4.95 from Az himself. Everyone should get one.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sighs*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106112129130310920?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106112129130310920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106112129130310920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106112129130310920' title=''/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106103666315268421</id><published>2003-08-16T22:24:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-17T21:58:11.786+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;font color="FF0000"&gt;HAPPY BIRTHDAY AARON! (You get to buy me booze now. Good boy)&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now begins the daunting task of completing my two drama projects; group and individual.&lt;br /&gt;There's so much to do, for both. I don't particularly care if I fuck the IP, but I actually CARE about the group work. I don't want to fuck up the others' marks.&lt;br /&gt;Stupid work. STupid HSC.    &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106103666315268421?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106103666315268421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106103666315268421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106103666315268421' title=''/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106111805058545329</id><published>2003-08-17T21:00:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-17T21:00:50.406+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;note to Jenny:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got the random impulse to come online at exactly 19:37 today. I was unable to, because someone else was using the computer. I have a feeling this was a case of summoning. Am I right? If it is, this is just getting TOO odd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really bored. I think I'll fall back on the age-old tradition of relating the events of my lacklustre day. The day began with indulging my nerd tendancies until about 2.30 am. I then retired to bed, to catch a few hours of sleep, with a butterfly net. I then pinned them to my cork board. I woke up to a nutritional breakfast of V and a sandwich. Mmmm, guaranalicious. I then went to Evan's house to dram group work. Our group session was similar to all previous ones, with 90% of the time spent pissing about. The other 10% is divided between raiding Evan's food cupboards and actually doing drama work. We kinda choreographed one scene, and talked a lot. Of course, most of what we talked about bore no relevence to drama. It's the usual pattern. After Nicky left, I stayed for a while, because I was none to eager to go home. Evan I talked, and agreed to a tie at Mario Kart. I'm quite surprised that he didn't cane me. Suck crap Evan. Two things made the day awesome: yummy cake with yummier icing, and finding something that completely grosses Evan out. YAY! &lt;em&gt;Payback time. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't think of anything else to say.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106111805058545329?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106111805058545329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106111805058545329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106111805058545329' title=''/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106076510137113305</id><published>2003-08-13T18:58:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-16T22:09:00.486+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's so strange.&lt;br /&gt;You can think you're over something, think it's just a distant memory, a time you can look back at and laugh at your own foolishness, your own frailty, at the irony.&lt;br /&gt;Until you actually do look back, and find that you're crying instead of laughing. &lt;br /&gt;It's so stupid. It was stupid to begin with, but it's made even more so by the fact that it can still make me feel like this.&lt;br /&gt;A year is a long time. A year is a fucking &lt;em&gt;lifetime&lt;/em&gt;. A year is more than enough time for the pain to vanish, isn't it? It should be. Maybe I'm defective. Probably.&lt;br /&gt;I wrote a song the other night. Which means there must be something wrong with me. I don't write poetry anymore. &lt;br /&gt;Stupid memories. Had to come and rear their ugly heads again. &lt;br /&gt;Why now though?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it's a timely reminder. A necessary warning, before I fall into the same trap again.&lt;br /&gt;I'll try not to.&lt;br /&gt;But it may be too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="000000"&gt;We were tight, but it falls apart as silver turns to blue.&lt;br /&gt;Waxing with a candlelight, and burning just for you.&lt;br /&gt;Allocate your sentiment, and stick it in a box.&lt;br /&gt;I've never been an extrovert, but i'm still breathing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With hindsight, I was more than blind, lost without a clue.&lt;br /&gt;Thought I was getting carat gold, and what I got was you.&lt;br /&gt;Stuck inside the circumstances, lonely at the top.&lt;br /&gt;I've always been an introvert&lt;br /&gt;happily bleeding. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36 Degrees - Placebo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106076510137113305?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106076510137113305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106076510137113305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106076510137113305' title=''/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106093618178899945</id><published>2003-08-15T18:29:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-15T18:38:36.983+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Kitty gratefully accepts &lt;a href="http://semiugly2.blogspot.com"&gt;Jenny&lt;/a&gt;'s apology, and offers hug again. Kitty breathes huge sigh of relief that Jenny isn't cranky with her no more. Kitty grins, because writing in third person really IS fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My trials are all done. Which is good. I fucked them, but I'm so totally past caring. And now I have to do a fuckload of work for drama. Great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106093618178899945?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106093618178899945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106093618178899945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106093618178899945' title=''/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106084025787722324</id><published>2003-08-14T15:50:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-14T15:55:37.576+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Lots of things to say today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;happy happy!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jenny's going to the formal, which in itself is awesome. But she's also going with Baker! I'm so incredibly happy for her. *gushes in advance over their beautiful formal photos* This is so cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;righteous indignation&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Krystal Myer is a fucking scrag.  How dare that jaundiced bitch imply that my Jenny is unworthy of baker? Fuckin idiot. And anyway, what right does she have to comment? Baker asked Jenny, not the other way 'round obviously baker thinks Jenny is good enough for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;On this day....&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On this day, exactly four years ago, I did my hair in lots of tiny plaits, dressed in the most alternative clothes I could find in my year eight wardrobe and headed in to the Moore Park showground. (now Fox studios) I was there to get my $30 worth of entertainment from Silverchair. Before the concert, I bought the t-shirt that Jenny now so proudly wears.&lt;br /&gt;The opening act was the very poor Pre-Shrunk. The restless crowd practically booed their weird techno-rock asses off the stage. &lt;br /&gt;What followed Pre-Shrunk was  the highlight of the evening, and in fact the highlight of that year for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Placebo.&lt;br /&gt;Performing songs from Without You I'm Nothing. I remember actually dancing/moshing. Can you believe it? Me, moshing. I pushed my way right up to the front of the pit too and stared up at their rockin performance.&lt;br /&gt;After Placebo, SIlverchair seemed, frankly, shit. I actually wandered out of the pavillion to go and get a drink. They couldn't really hold my interest. Thus began, I suppose, my infatuation with Placebo. Lol. Or obsession.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106084025787722324?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106084025787722324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106084025787722324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106084025787722324' title=''/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5039904.post-106067261133172512</id><published>2003-08-12T17:16:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-08-12T17:16:51.300+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="004712"&gt;fnord&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm such poor company today.&lt;br /&gt;I fucked my ancient exam really badly. &lt;br /&gt;My eyes and head hurt. hrrmf.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5039904-106067261133172512?l=monkeyiii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106067261133172512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5039904/posts/default/106067261133172512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://monkeyiii.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106067261133172512' title=''/><author><name>liney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03518371874159802927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06636685310207060539'/></author></entry></feed>