<?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-1336095016134632013</id><updated>2012-01-06T06:07:29.304-08:00</updated><title type='text'>memoirs of a squirrel chaser</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>171</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-193636075579899572</id><published>2011-11-18T03:21:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-18T03:21:14.594-08:00</updated><title type='text'>pa</title><content type='html'>the sign on the door of my procrastinators anonymous meetings said 'lets do this sometime next week'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-193636075579899572?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/193636075579899572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/11/pa.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/193636075579899572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/193636075579899572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/11/pa.html' title='pa'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-2165920525250385868</id><published>2011-11-16T16:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-16T16:58:25.571-08:00</updated><title type='text'>smelly</title><content type='html'>i like seeing people sniffing deodorant sticks in the aisles of drug stores. i like the looks on their faces as they decide if they like the smell or not. i also like pretending that i can shoot lasers from my eyes but i try not to let that on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-2165920525250385868?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/2165920525250385868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/11/smelly.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/2165920525250385868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/2165920525250385868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/11/smelly.html' title='smelly'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-2093531844684967552</id><published>2011-11-16T16:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-16T16:55:32.915-08:00</updated><title type='text'>metal detector</title><content type='html'>there's a peacefulness of seeing a lone man walk up and down the beach with his metal detector. i imagine part of the appeal comes from being out there on the beach early in the morning, alone, looking for treasure. i guess the other appeal comes from stumbling upon dead fish and dropping large rocks on them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-2093531844684967552?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/2093531844684967552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/11/metal-detector.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/2093531844684967552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/2093531844684967552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/11/metal-detector.html' title='metal detector'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-5364256514603165276</id><published>2011-11-16T16:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-16T16:49:43.729-08:00</updated><title type='text'>tiles</title><content type='html'>i was at this party once and this girl was staring at the kitchen floor. she kept saying 'i'm just one of these tiles out of all of the tiles on the floor'. i stared at the floor with her and wondered why she felt so sad. she wasn't one of the tiles. she was more than that. she was a person with thoughts, views and a giant ass.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-5364256514603165276?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/5364256514603165276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/11/tiles.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5364256514603165276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5364256514603165276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/11/tiles.html' title='tiles'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-5930145975067369149</id><published>2011-11-13T17:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-13T17:11:51.047-08:00</updated><title type='text'>flipper</title><content type='html'>i was in the ocean last week and I saw 2 dolphins swimming by. they seemed so peaceful and without a care in the world. i kept thinking about the dolphins for the rest of the day and how clean their assholes must be from always being in the water.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-5930145975067369149?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/5930145975067369149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/11/flipper.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5930145975067369149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5930145975067369149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/11/flipper.html' title='flipper'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-3385469854470382572</id><published>2011-11-13T17:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-13T17:06:40.944-08:00</updated><title type='text'>chick</title><content type='html'>i used to date this asian chick. she had a real sweet and sour tooth&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-3385469854470382572?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/3385469854470382572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/11/chick.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/3385469854470382572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/3385469854470382572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/11/chick.html' title='chick'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-4380563503049834371</id><published>2011-11-13T17:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-13T17:03:25.700-08:00</updated><title type='text'>truth</title><content type='html'>how fat can a bird get before it can't fly? that was how it all started your honour.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-4380563503049834371?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/4380563503049834371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/11/truth.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4380563503049834371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4380563503049834371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/11/truth.html' title='truth'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-682836985208072601</id><published>2011-10-23T05:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-23T05:31:33.141-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>when jewish people live in the woods do they call it the schticks?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-682836985208072601?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/682836985208072601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/10/when-jewish-people-live-in-woods-do.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/682836985208072601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/682836985208072601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/10/when-jewish-people-live-in-woods-do.html' title=''/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-4374891069758385062</id><published>2011-08-04T18:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-04T18:09:36.738-07:00</updated><title type='text'>tea</title><content type='html'>i wouldn't do it for all the tea in China only because i don't have a big enough pantry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-4374891069758385062?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/4374891069758385062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/08/tea.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4374891069758385062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4374891069758385062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/08/tea.html' title='tea'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-4342830782093468267</id><published>2011-05-11T07:11:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T07:12:42.449-07:00</updated><title type='text'>beer</title><content type='html'>i went into the grocery store to buy beer. i picked up a case of 24. when i got to the cash the guy behind the counter said 'for the long weekend?'. 'no' i told him. 'for the love of it'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-4342830782093468267?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/4342830782093468267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/beer.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4342830782093468267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4342830782093468267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/beer.html' title='beer'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-1807246878219356354</id><published>2011-05-11T07:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T07:11:29.962-07:00</updated><title type='text'>midgets fuck em</title><content type='html'>you know that reality show about the midgets -'little people - big world'. well that show really gets on my tits. it's not the concept. i think the concept is pretty good. what bugs me is the family. their house is a fucking mess. there is shit everywhere. you figure that being so close to the ground that they'd be picking up more often.&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-1807246878219356354?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/1807246878219356354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/midgets-fuck-em.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1807246878219356354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1807246878219356354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/midgets-fuck-em.html' title='midgets fuck em'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-2838301154590381192</id><published>2011-05-11T07:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T07:10:45.887-07:00</updated><title type='text'>hobby</title><content type='html'>i'd like to make a hobby of going to job interviews but bullshitting my way through them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;interviewer -'so squirrel chaser, tell me about yourself, what you are all about'&lt;br /&gt;me- 'well i learned a lot while i was in vietnam'&lt;br /&gt;int- 'you travelled around vietnam?'&lt;br /&gt;me' 'uuhh no, i was in the war'&lt;br /&gt;int- 'the war? how old are you'&lt;br /&gt;me- '33'&lt;br /&gt;int-' well that would make it impossible for you to have been in the vietnam war'&lt;br /&gt;me- 'are you saying that i went and did all of that for nothing, sure there were people screaming stuff but you never know who the enemy is'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;another good time could be had explaining the gaps of time between jobs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;interviewer 'so it says here that between sept 2002 and now you haven't been employed anywhere. what have you been doing&lt;br /&gt;me- 'well i've had a few health problems that have kept me out of the workforce, i was bed ridden for 4 months'&lt;br /&gt;int -'sounds serious'&lt;br /&gt;me- 'yeah it was. horrible case of razor burn'&lt;br /&gt;int -silence&lt;br /&gt;me-' sure people come to visit you and bring you flowers and jello puppets but in the end they all want you to roll over and drop them so that they can get a look. some people are very insensitive'&lt;br /&gt;int -more silence&lt;br /&gt;me- 'the worst was last year. i was very sick. you know you hear doctors saying all the time that the worst place for a man to gain weight is around his waist as it can lead to numerous health problems'&lt;br /&gt;int- 'yes'&lt;br /&gt;me- 'well they're wrong. the worst place to gain a lot of weight is in the scrotum'&lt;br /&gt;int - very very quiet&lt;br /&gt;me -'lost my wife over that one. no matter how much i tried it wouldn't work'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-2838301154590381192?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/2838301154590381192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/hobby.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/2838301154590381192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/2838301154590381192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/hobby.html' title='hobby'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-4545468781847406755</id><published>2011-05-11T07:08:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T07:09:05.055-07:00</updated><title type='text'>go figure</title><content type='html'>grab a cane and a pair of dark sunglasses and you can fake being blind. throw on a pair of hearing aids and you can fake being deaf but walk into a lingerie store in a fake chicken suit made out real chicken breasts and feathers and everyone's suspicious&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-4545468781847406755?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/4545468781847406755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/go-figure.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4545468781847406755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4545468781847406755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/go-figure.html' title='go figure'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-247495407082792648</id><published>2011-05-11T07:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T07:08:41.230-07:00</updated><title type='text'>dream job</title><content type='html'>I always wanted to get a job working in a greenhouse. On my first day I would go in and turn off the climate control and then joke to everyone 'hey it's not like a greenhouse in here. it's like a regular room'. the&lt;br /&gt;employees would all laugh and they would invite me to eat lunch with them and they would share their snacks with me. Near the end of the day I would go to the back of the greenhouse and talk to the plants and&lt;br /&gt;train them to kill everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-247495407082792648?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/247495407082792648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/dream-job.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/247495407082792648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/247495407082792648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/dream-job.html' title='dream job'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-7457788599849738112</id><published>2011-05-11T07:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T07:07:25.844-07:00</updated><title type='text'>random</title><content type='html'>if i had no eyebrows how would i tell fellow hostages to look up when it looks like one of the pigeons on the ledge is gonna shit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-7457788599849738112?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/7457788599849738112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/random.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/7457788599849738112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/7457788599849738112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/random.html' title='random'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-5572783948372051784</id><published>2011-05-11T07:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T07:06:52.209-07:00</updated><title type='text'>cat</title><content type='html'>walking to the bus stop i saw this sign for a lost cat. it looked a lot like the dead cat that i saw on the side of the road last week. the cat in the picture was named 'Karma'. i'm thinking that it should be changed to 'bad Karma'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-5572783948372051784?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/5572783948372051784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/cat.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5572783948372051784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5572783948372051784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/cat.html' title='cat'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-7991271414263841365</id><published>2011-05-11T07:05:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T07:05:46.471-07:00</updated><title type='text'>fart</title><content type='html'>i farted and the missus said 'oh you just shat yourself'. i didn't. it was a clean fart but obviously something was lost in translation. what was a normal clean fart to me was a messy liquid shitty fart to her. this bothered me because after all of these years she still didn't know my asshole and the only way that she was going to learn was for her to hear the sound of me shitting myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-7991271414263841365?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/7991271414263841365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/fart_11.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/7991271414263841365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/7991271414263841365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/fart_11.html' title='fart'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-5751372998956460744</id><published>2011-05-11T07:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T07:05:45.257-07:00</updated><title type='text'>fart</title><content type='html'>i farted and the missus said 'oh you just shat yourself'. i didn't. it was a clean fart but obviously something was lost in translation. what was a normal clean fart to me was a messy liquid shitty fart to her. this bothered me because after all of these years she still didn't know my asshole and the only way that she was going to learn was for her to hear the sound of me shitting myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-5751372998956460744?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/5751372998956460744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/fart.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5751372998956460744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5751372998956460744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/fart.html' title='fart'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-4698927731666776750</id><published>2011-05-11T07:04:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T07:04:57.547-07:00</updated><title type='text'>water</title><content type='html'>i saw an ad for bottled water in a magazine  and it read 'water the source of life'. why sperm didn't even get an honorable mention is a mystery to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-4698927731666776750?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/4698927731666776750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/water.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4698927731666776750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4698927731666776750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/water.html' title='water'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-1772434274001226304</id><published>2011-05-11T07:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T07:04:14.239-07:00</updated><title type='text'>dragons</title><content type='html'>dragons could breath fire but what happened when they farted?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-1772434274001226304?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/1772434274001226304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/dragons.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1772434274001226304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1772434274001226304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/dragons.html' title='dragons'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-1110826120656717746</id><published>2011-05-11T07:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T07:03:21.531-07:00</updated><title type='text'>kenya</title><content type='html'>i was walking home from work and saw these 2 little girls that had a lemonade stand . they had a sign that said 'lemonade 50 cents. we are trying to raise enough money to buy a well for a village in Kenya. help us help the world'.  i thought about the sign and thought that the whole thing was a great idea. for a moment it made me feel good about the world and that people actually cared. i flipped the girls 2 dollars and grabbed a glass. it was horrible and made my teeth hurt and i began cursing the Kenyans and vowed never to buy anymore lemonade from strange smelly kids on the street or masturbate to the Oprah Winfrey show. fuck Kenya.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-1110826120656717746?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/1110826120656717746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/kenya.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1110826120656717746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1110826120656717746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/kenya.html' title='kenya'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-4180013960324620995</id><published>2011-05-11T06:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T07:02:24.627-07:00</updated><title type='text'>dream</title><content type='html'>last night i dreamt that i was the lead singer from ac/dc and i got up in front of the crowd and said 'this next song is 'you shook me all night long' and the crowd roared then i said 'it's a song about an epileptic'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-4180013960324620995?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/4180013960324620995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/dream.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4180013960324620995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4180013960324620995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2011/05/dream.html' title='dream'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-6869367533733321419</id><published>2010-12-14T11:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T11:37:38.369-08:00</updated><title type='text'>art</title><content type='html'>if swiss cheese didn't exist then maybe more people would draw triangles with holes in them without the worry of being misunderstood.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-6869367533733321419?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/6869367533733321419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/12/art.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/6869367533733321419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/6869367533733321419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/12/art.html' title='art'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-8510471342582641902</id><published>2010-12-14T11:36:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T11:37:08.979-08:00</updated><title type='text'>bad food choices</title><content type='html'>some people eat pastries for breakfast. i wonder if they know how bad they are for them. i see these people every morning eating pastries from a brown paper bag with grease stains. i wonder about the health of these people. i wonder what their insides are like and what they would look like lacquered and in a nice frame above the fireplace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-8510471342582641902?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/8510471342582641902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/12/bad-food-choices.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8510471342582641902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8510471342582641902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/12/bad-food-choices.html' title='bad food choices'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-999966532674845348</id><published>2010-12-14T11:36:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T11:36:24.910-08:00</updated><title type='text'>belt</title><content type='html'>this morning as i was walking to the subway my belt buckle broke. i was just walking along and i felt my pants start to fall. i imagine that's what it feels like to be seduced by a ghost.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-999966532674845348?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/999966532674845348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/12/belt.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/999966532674845348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/999966532674845348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/12/belt.html' title='belt'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-6577407076513263149</id><published>2010-12-14T11:35:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T11:35:13.958-08:00</updated><title type='text'>sure that works</title><content type='html'>when you add butter to mashed potatoes you're laughing. well maybe not. maybe you just stubbed your toe and you're screaming and the last thing you are thinking about is the buttery goodness of the mashed potatoes. instead you're hopping around saying 'i broke my toe. i broke my toe' but we all know that your toe is not broken and that you are a softy and all you will talk about for the rest of the night is your broken toe. i hate you for ruining the mashed potatoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is what i wrote in her card. she was going on maternity leave.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-6577407076513263149?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/6577407076513263149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/12/sure-that-works.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/6577407076513263149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/6577407076513263149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/12/sure-that-works.html' title='sure that works'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-8332344298853811795</id><published>2010-12-14T11:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T11:33:43.103-08:00</updated><title type='text'>atm</title><content type='html'>in porn an 'ATM' is when the man is having anal sex with the woman (or man) and then follows it up with some oral action (Ass to mouth). i explained this to the aliens the other night but then had a really hard time explaining the ATM machine. they were really disappointed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-8332344298853811795?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/8332344298853811795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/12/atm.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8332344298853811795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8332344298853811795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/12/atm.html' title='atm'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-3039084207093970123</id><published>2010-12-11T03:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T03:36:14.103-08:00</updated><title type='text'>drugs</title><content type='html'>i'm always suspicious of people with no arms who have one really long toe nail.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-3039084207093970123?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/3039084207093970123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/12/drugs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/3039084207093970123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/3039084207093970123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/12/drugs.html' title='drugs'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-7125319398312570087</id><published>2010-12-11T03:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T03:34:03.420-08:00</updated><title type='text'>pee</title><content type='html'>in the morning I took my daughter outside. there was a large trail of pee in the snow. 'wow' she said 'look what a dog did'. i laughed as last nights memories came back to me. it was clear she couldn't read yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-7125319398312570087?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/7125319398312570087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/12/pee.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/7125319398312570087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/7125319398312570087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/12/pee.html' title='pee'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-4047675702586935712</id><published>2010-12-11T03:29:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T03:31:30.233-08:00</updated><title type='text'>deep</title><content type='html'>imagine the sound of one hand clapping. now imagine the sound of that hand repeatedly smacking itself in the face. beautiful isn't it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-4047675702586935712?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/4047675702586935712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/12/deep.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4047675702586935712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4047675702586935712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/12/deep.html' title='deep'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-1516678840689149606</id><published>2010-12-11T03:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T03:28:59.682-08:00</updated><title type='text'>truth</title><content type='html'>if you've ever had a horrible mashed potato incident i can see how a snow storm could be traumatic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-1516678840689149606?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/1516678840689149606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/12/truth.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1516678840689149606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1516678840689149606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/12/truth.html' title='truth'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-3157268205599320653</id><published>2010-12-11T03:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T03:25:48.587-08:00</updated><title type='text'>taxi</title><content type='html'>i was in the drug store last night and this girl came in and said 'there's an old lady outside. she's been waiting for a taxi for 20 minutes can someone call one for her'. I felt bad for the old lady. It was a cold and windy night. I thought about going home and getting my car and driving her where she needed to go to. Then I got worried that she might think that I was a criminal and that I wanted to rob her and that maybe she would have a heart attack in my car and die. It was such a horrible thought so I decided that it would be best if she died in the taxi instead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-3157268205599320653?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/3157268205599320653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/12/taxi.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/3157268205599320653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/3157268205599320653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/12/taxi.html' title='taxi'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-2321073084785970358</id><published>2010-11-26T15:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-26T15:58:45.053-08:00</updated><title type='text'>dog holmes</title><content type='html'>I used to have a dog with a really big penis. Some of my friends had this theory that it got so big because he was able to lick himself. I had a theory that it had something to do with dog saliva but I proved that wrong and made sure not to tell anyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-2321073084785970358?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/2321073084785970358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/11/dog-holmes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/2321073084785970358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/2321073084785970358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/11/dog-holmes.html' title='dog holmes'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-7876109568106897413</id><published>2010-11-22T16:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-22T16:16:55.087-08:00</updated><title type='text'>in the door</title><content type='html'>it's sad state of affairs when you see a mentally retarded guy with his bag stuck in the subway door and no one rushing to help him. As I stood there with my foot jammed in the door trying to pry it open I wondered what was wrong with the world. How could no one help this poor guy? What was even more surprising was later on as I went through his wallet seeing how much money a retarded guy walked around with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-7876109568106897413?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/7876109568106897413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/11/in-door.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/7876109568106897413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/7876109568106897413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/11/in-door.html' title='in the door'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-771051193421946663</id><published>2010-11-19T17:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-19T17:43:31.969-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>thinking of doing stand up. would you come?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-771051193421946663?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/771051193421946663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/11/thinking-of-doing-stand-up.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/771051193421946663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/771051193421946663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/11/thinking-of-doing-stand-up.html' title=''/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-3418074295043802826</id><published>2010-11-19T17:38:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-19T17:40:37.526-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i told my neighbor that i was going to kill his roommate. It was a fair statement. The red mist took over and i wanted to smash his head against the brick wall. Then make pancakes. I had a craving for syrup.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-3418074295043802826?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/3418074295043802826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-told-my-neighbor-that-i-was-going-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/3418074295043802826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/3418074295043802826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-told-my-neighbor-that-i-was-going-to.html' title=''/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-1309275776030421541</id><published>2010-11-19T17:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-19T17:38:43.064-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>everyone things i'm dead. it was just a weird 2 months with an iguana named Betty&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-1309275776030421541?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/1309275776030421541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/11/everyone-things-im-dead.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1309275776030421541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1309275776030421541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/11/everyone-things-im-dead.html' title=''/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-8767777096593106774</id><published>2010-10-02T03:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T03:52:42.967-07:00</updated><title type='text'>drug store</title><content type='html'>there's something about the drug store on a friday night&lt;br /&gt;the lonely ladies buying 10 bars of soap for $3 and cheap cat food&lt;br /&gt;the dreamers with their lottery tickets and oversized condoms&lt;br /&gt;the time killers reading the magazines&lt;br /&gt;the kids crying for chocolate&lt;br /&gt;the cure seekers with $75 skin creams&lt;br /&gt;the bleeders buying tampons&lt;br /&gt;the wet people caught in a freak downpour trying to justify $10 for an umbrella&lt;br /&gt;the health nuts with strange orange glows mulling over protein powders&lt;br /&gt;the crazies looking for a refill&lt;br /&gt;the big shitters with all that toilet paper&lt;br /&gt;the obsessive compulsives with their cleaning products&lt;br /&gt;the diabetics with 10 bottles of soda&lt;br /&gt;and then there's me&lt;br /&gt;fitting into all of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-8767777096593106774?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/8767777096593106774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/10/drug-store.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8767777096593106774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8767777096593106774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/10/drug-store.html' title='drug store'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-1757890012806451889</id><published>2010-10-02T03:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T03:41:44.398-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a poem</title><content type='html'>watching the geese migrate. amazed at their flight formation. the sounds of the guns going off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-1757890012806451889?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/1757890012806451889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/10/poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1757890012806451889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1757890012806451889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/10/poem.html' title='a poem'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-3127866156707272991</id><published>2010-09-13T15:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-13T15:57:04.077-07:00</updated><title type='text'>pigs</title><content type='html'>i don't like going into the pet store and seeing those big containers of pigs ears. it bothers me seeing them knowing that there are all these deaf pigs out there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-3127866156707272991?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/3127866156707272991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/09/pigs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/3127866156707272991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/3127866156707272991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/09/pigs.html' title='pigs'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-5092319210451332199</id><published>2010-09-13T15:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-13T15:55:31.221-07:00</updated><title type='text'>soda</title><content type='html'>soda water is pretty cool. it's just water but fizzy. i think a soda water lake or river would be pretty cool. it would be fun to swim in it.  i bet those bubbles could really tickle your hemorrhoids.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-5092319210451332199?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/5092319210451332199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/09/soda.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5092319210451332199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5092319210451332199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/09/soda.html' title='soda'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-203710890026805115</id><published>2010-09-13T15:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-13T15:54:58.978-07:00</updated><title type='text'>donut blower</title><content type='html'>this guy at the bus stop was eating a cream filled donut. at one point he bit into it and pulled this really puckered face. i recognized that face. it's the face of a super sweet product that is making your teeth hurt like hell. as i stared at him some more i wondered if it really was the donut that was doing this to him or if he was actually giving a blow job to the invisible man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-203710890026805115?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/203710890026805115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/09/donut-blower.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/203710890026805115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/203710890026805115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/09/donut-blower.html' title='donut blower'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-5970375681624950825</id><published>2010-09-13T15:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-13T15:51:45.236-07:00</updated><title type='text'>white shit</title><content type='html'>we were sitting around talking about the 80's when one of my friends said 'i used to see a lot of white dog shit back in the 80's but not anymore. whatever happened to white dog shit on the street'. it made me laugh. it was true. i remember seeing my fair share of white and beige colored dog shit. thats when i told him about the beige colored stick that i picked up to throw at someone and that turned out not to be a stick. it was a odd moment and for a second i thought my hands could melt wood.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-5970375681624950825?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/5970375681624950825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/09/white-shit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5970375681624950825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5970375681624950825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/09/white-shit.html' title='white shit'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-9158783161691460738</id><published>2010-09-13T15:49:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-13T15:49:48.878-07:00</updated><title type='text'>butts</title><content type='html'>the other day while walking downtown i saw this guy walking around yelling shit in french. he was wearing plastic bags on his feet. they weren't name brand. just some regular plain white plastic bags but they looked a couple of sizes too big. it got me thinking about how he ended up in that position. maybe it was one thing that made him snap or a lifetime of problems that accumulated in him on the streets. he wasn't asking for money he was mostly scanning the ground looking for plump cigarette butts. at one point he caught sight of a good one. only half smoked and still burning. his eyes light up as he held it up. it almost felt like i was watching one of those Saturday morning fishing shows where the guys pull the fish into the boat and raise the fish while saying 'this a good 10 pounder it's a beauty' instead the guy put the cigarette to his mouth took a big long drag and then said something which i think translated to 'just way too many newspapers'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-9158783161691460738?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/9158783161691460738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/09/butts.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/9158783161691460738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/9158783161691460738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/09/butts.html' title='butts'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-1112947570697716020</id><published>2010-09-13T15:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-13T15:48:22.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>whenever a bird comes close to the window our cat goes into attack mode. it's purely innate. centuries of animal instincts kicking in. it's rather impressive to watch until he realizes that the he is a house cat and the bird is free and he will never get the chance to catch it. then i feel guilty about locking him up like a prisoner so i try to make it up to him by downloading crazy underground german porn and buying lots of vodka. unfortunately it doesn't seem to be cheering him up.  which is strange cause it's the happiest i have been in years.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-1112947570697716020?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/1112947570697716020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/09/whenever-bird-comes-close-to-window-our.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1112947570697716020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1112947570697716020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/09/whenever-bird-comes-close-to-window-our.html' title=''/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-4340458758104170795</id><published>2010-07-16T15:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-16T15:19:17.038-07:00</updated><title type='text'>passed</title><content type='html'>It's not drinking that I'm addicted to. It's sleeping in the park that I can't get enough of.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-4340458758104170795?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/4340458758104170795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/07/passed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4340458758104170795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4340458758104170795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/07/passed.html' title='passed'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-1251106133168195561</id><published>2010-07-04T13:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-04T13:45:34.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'>elastic band</title><content type='html'>before the  invention of the elastic band we were at the mercy of the lobsters.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-1251106133168195561?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/1251106133168195561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/07/elastic-band.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1251106133168195561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1251106133168195561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/07/elastic-band.html' title='elastic band'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-2326592102003195086</id><published>2010-07-04T13:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-04T13:44:18.855-07:00</updated><title type='text'>love hurts</title><content type='html'>today i tried to convince someone that the song 'love hurts' is actually about anal sex. i wasn't that convincing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-2326592102003195086?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/2326592102003195086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/07/love-hurts.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/2326592102003195086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/2326592102003195086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/07/love-hurts.html' title='love hurts'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-912194274072347780</id><published>2010-07-04T13:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-04T13:43:25.596-07:00</updated><title type='text'>kids</title><content type='html'>this was the third time this week that someone has brought their baby to the office but once again my attempt to photocopy one failed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-912194274072347780?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/912194274072347780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/07/kids.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/912194274072347780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/912194274072347780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/07/kids.html' title='kids'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-8912197543568310259</id><published>2010-07-04T13:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-04T13:42:00.410-07:00</updated><title type='text'>corn</title><content type='html'>genetically modified food is a pretty crazy thing. corn is genetically modified. genetically modified corn is engineered to tolerate herbicides and resist bugs. i think these people have lost focus. what they need to work on is corn that doesn't get stuck in your teeth. that shit would sell like Nair in Italy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-8912197543568310259?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/8912197543568310259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/07/corn.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8912197543568310259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8912197543568310259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/07/corn.html' title='corn'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-1164394739581434628</id><published>2010-07-04T13:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-04T13:40:22.730-07:00</updated><title type='text'>fairies</title><content type='html'>as i child i used to believe that the pollen flying in the air was fairies. i don't know why i thought that but i imagine it's because some adult told me. they probably said 'look at those white things flying. those are fairies'.  i won't do this to my daughter. i won't lie. i will tell her exactly what those white things are. bags of coke being sent up to heaven for god the drug fiend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-1164394739581434628?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/1164394739581434628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/07/fairies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1164394739581434628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1164394739581434628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/07/fairies.html' title='fairies'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-6927598676558053620</id><published>2010-07-04T13:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-04T13:39:11.744-07:00</updated><title type='text'>wife</title><content type='html'>some guys worry that their wives want to wear the pants in the family. not me, it's a strap on that i'm concerned about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-6927598676558053620?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/6927598676558053620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/07/wife.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/6927598676558053620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/6927598676558053620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/07/wife.html' title='wife'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-8669467772077129297</id><published>2010-07-04T13:37:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-04T13:38:46.202-07:00</updated><title type='text'>canoes</title><content type='html'>whenever i see an overturned canoe in someones yard i think about the memories of that canoe trip with my friends. i think about drifting along an unmanned river watching the wildlife go by. i think about the smell of the camp fire, the echoes of the camp songs and the sound that a shovel makes when it smashes against a skull.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-8669467772077129297?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/8669467772077129297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/07/canoes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8669467772077129297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8669467772077129297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/07/canoes.html' title='canoes'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-1906538162575897898</id><published>2010-07-04T13:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-04T13:37:46.095-07:00</updated><title type='text'>weight</title><content type='html'>they say that some people carry the world's weight on their shoulders. all i can say to that is bend with the knees man. bend with the knees.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-1906538162575897898?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/1906538162575897898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/07/weight.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1906538162575897898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1906538162575897898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/07/weight.html' title='weight'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-1944553415564833713</id><published>2010-07-03T15:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-03T15:18:16.401-07:00</updated><title type='text'>cheese</title><content type='html'>smart food is some good shit but part of me is worried that it was inspired by smegma.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-1944553415564833713?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/1944553415564833713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/07/cheese.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1944553415564833713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1944553415564833713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/07/cheese.html' title='cheese'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-8203440291767857663</id><published>2010-06-13T15:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-13T15:28:32.902-07:00</updated><title type='text'>willpower</title><content type='html'>billy lost his hands in a farming accident and everyone felt horrible for him. on the positive side he had tried everything. the patch, hypnosis but nothing got him to quit like those rotary blades.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-8203440291767857663?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/8203440291767857663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/willpower.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8203440291767857663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8203440291767857663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/willpower.html' title='willpower'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-8153386271091224190</id><published>2010-06-13T15:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-13T15:27:55.236-07:00</updated><title type='text'>pickles</title><content type='html'>sometimes it's impossible to open the pickle jar and it's at that moment that i believe that GOD hates us for what we did to those cucumbers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-8153386271091224190?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/8153386271091224190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/pickles.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8153386271091224190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8153386271091224190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/pickles.html' title='pickles'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-4134340992974197081</id><published>2010-06-13T15:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-13T15:26:29.681-07:00</updated><title type='text'>elastics</title><content type='html'>today i got asked if i was bi-polar. 'i don't know what it is with you, some days you're up and other days i feel like i can't talk to you'. i smiled at her and said 'i prefer the term manic depressive'. i then proceeded to show her my black elastic band. the black elastic band is like the albino tiger of the tiger world. a rarity. i'm not sure where the black elastic band came from but i found it on the floor. it looks like the kind that is used to attach broccoli to other broccoli. it's possible that i will build a small little shrine for it to sit on and attach it to my cubicle wall. devote freaks, cripples and sick people will come from all over the world to get a glimpse. word will get out that the black elastic band cured a mans erectile dysfunction and also turned his erect penis into an excellent fresh water finding instrument. the man will return to his native land in the middle of the Sahara and will roam from village to village with his erection and lucky sweatpants finding water for the dehydrated and unbloated masses. with the fresh water they will build a factory that will make buckets so that they can make sandcastles and in those sandcastles the world's first fresh bread crouton will be born. 'it's like a crouton but soft'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-4134340992974197081?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/4134340992974197081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/elastics.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4134340992974197081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4134340992974197081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/elastics.html' title='elastics'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-6445878433608437069</id><published>2010-06-13T15:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-13T15:24:41.108-07:00</updated><title type='text'>cats</title><content type='html'>humans have invented millions of things. cats have invented nothing. well other than some device that gives them the ability to have fish breath when no fish has been eaten. sneaky buggers. i'm on to them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-6445878433608437069?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/6445878433608437069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/cats.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/6445878433608437069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/6445878433608437069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/cats.html' title='cats'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-8914069469838596758</id><published>2010-06-06T04:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T04:50:20.032-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my poo</title><content type='html'>i woke up at 2:30am. i was having a dream that i was taking a shit and sure enough when i woke up i really had to go bad. i was still in a half sleep state so i tried to sleep it off. you can never sleep off a shit. the contractions woke me up again and i knew that i either had to get up or risk shitting the bed. twice in a year would be a bad thing. as i walked over to the bathroom i doubled over in pain. i was having a baby. i began to sweat and did this slow walk into the bathroom. as my ass touched the seat i dropped it. it was massive and as it hit the water while still connected to me i got hit with another contraction and realized that this massive turd was acting as a cork for whatever else was inside of me. &lt;br /&gt;sure enough as the massive one broke free the machine gun fire of shit shot out of me. my ass sounded like it was making popcorn. i grew faint and for a second thought that i was going to vomit. i thought i had food poisoning. it must have been something i drank. the shit just kept pouring out and as the pain began to subside so did the urge to vomit. &lt;br /&gt;as i sat there on the bog i began to get cold. they say that when a spirit enters a room that the temperature drops. the same can be said when a 10 pound shit comes out of you. there was nothing good about it. the smell was vile. the carbon monoxide detector went off. as i became time to wipe i turned on the light and looked down. it was a sea of brown. it was the type of shit that deserved to be on the sidewalk. it was the type of shit that people needed to see as the walked to work, to breakfast, to church. it was the type of shit that only the maker could love. i named him harry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-8914069469838596758?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/8914069469838596758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/my-poo.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8914069469838596758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8914069469838596758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/my-poo.html' title='my poo'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-8554934326768043725</id><published>2010-06-06T04:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T04:48:14.166-07:00</updated><title type='text'>plane poo</title><content type='html'>i hate taking shits on airplanes. it's not just because everyone knows what you're up to but because it's so hard to get all into that little paper bag.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-8554934326768043725?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/8554934326768043725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/plane-poo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8554934326768043725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8554934326768043725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/plane-poo.html' title='plane poo'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-2369475830135510380</id><published>2010-06-06T04:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T04:46:56.104-07:00</updated><title type='text'>aa</title><content type='html'>you know the one group that you never see have a float in parades is AA (alcoholics anonymous). you can almost hear the commentator say 'well the next float that should have been making it's way down in front of the booth was the local branch of alcoholics anonymous but for the 3rd year running they've failed to show up on time'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think it's time that the name AA gets changed. you hear people talking about it like 'i go to alcoholics anonymous' and the only thing that i can think is 'you're not doing a very good job of being anonymous i can see you and hear everything that you are saying'. perhaps it's&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-2369475830135510380?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/2369475830135510380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/aa.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/2369475830135510380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/2369475830135510380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/aa.html' title='aa'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-5946883510503517133</id><published>2010-06-06T04:43:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T04:44:05.467-07:00</updated><title type='text'>porn dog</title><content type='html'>hot dogs are like porn. all lips and assholes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-5946883510503517133?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/5946883510503517133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/porn-dog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5946883510503517133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5946883510503517133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/porn-dog.html' title='porn dog'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-5247196237357799837</id><published>2010-06-06T04:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T04:43:31.759-07:00</updated><title type='text'>life 2</title><content type='html'>we used to have a dog that had fleas. we lived in a pretty flea infested area of Ontario and the fleas were all over the place. when it was bad you could part my dogs hair and you would see the little buggers. one day i was in my room reading and i felt an itch on my stomach. when i looked i saw this little flea moving along. i watched it for a good few minutes. it amazed me somewhat. this tiny insect living on my body. unaware of the human world and our worries. it had no clue about all the things in my life at the time. the bullies at school, the girls that wouldn't look at me or my skinny frame. that flea knew none of it and i would have to make it pay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-5247196237357799837?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/5247196237357799837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/life-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5247196237357799837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5247196237357799837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/life-2.html' title='life 2'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-6345822637026728591</id><published>2010-06-06T04:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T04:41:57.744-07:00</updated><title type='text'>life</title><content type='html'>there's something about having children that changes your perception of the world. you learn to ignore the little things that used to bother you. you learn to see life for what it is and you learn to deal with tough situations. negotiating prices with escorts has gotten a whole lot easier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-6345822637026728591?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/6345822637026728591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/6345822637026728591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/6345822637026728591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/life.html' title='life'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-7803590275458422031</id><published>2010-06-06T04:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T04:37:28.161-07:00</updated><title type='text'>blah blah blah.</title><content type='html'>last night i listened to the neighbors arguing with each other about how much noise they both make. i hate both sets of neighbors so listening to them go at it was almost worth masturbating to. as they stood on the door step i realized that it was the first time that i had seen all of them together at the same time which made me close my eyes and pray to god for a rare inner city bear attack. they went back and forth each presenting their case about the noise. it was a lot of 'you do this, you do that' and 'you play your music too loud'. after a while it got a little boring and listening to their mundane existence made me want to kill myself. i decided to close the window and go back to more important things and finish reading the article on how to stuff your dead cat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-7803590275458422031?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/7803590275458422031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/blah-blah-blah.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/7803590275458422031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/7803590275458422031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/blah-blah-blah.html' title='blah blah blah.'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-740338450767825601</id><published>2010-06-06T04:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T04:26:31.808-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>this morning my daughter said to me 'daddy you're so pretty' which was a really nice compliment considering that i wasn't wearing any make up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-740338450767825601?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/740338450767825601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/this-morning-my-daughter-said-to-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/740338450767825601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/740338450767825601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/this-morning-my-daughter-said-to-me.html' title=''/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-5345834615420903560</id><published>2010-06-05T13:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-05T13:28:16.605-07:00</updated><title type='text'>they took me away</title><content type='html'>it was a squirrel chasing incident that went horribly wrong. they claimed that there was some inappropriate touching, a tail got bitten, someone lost their nuts and i was held captive for 3 months. everyday the evil squirrels would beat me with little sticks. it never really hurt but i pretended to cry and threatened to make them allergic to peanuts. squirrels are actually stupid fuckers that masturbate alot and have a strange fascination with bob barker. just cause bob wanted to save some stupid cats and dogs the squirrels think that he was the messiah. i managed to escape from the den after 62 days in captivity. i hate those fucking squirrels and how they treated me. always bringing me garbage to eat. a cantaloupe skin is not a meal. used kleenexes aren't blankets. i hope they die from squirrel aids. i hope squirrels terrorists crash planes into their trees. i hope dogs eat them and their squirrel babies with fava beans and a nice Chianti. Put the lotion on the body you fucking squirrel. armageddon is coming.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-5345834615420903560?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/5345834615420903560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/they-took-me-away.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5345834615420903560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5345834615420903560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/06/they-took-me-away.html' title='they took me away'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-4878134244706436036</id><published>2010-03-21T05:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-21T05:45:54.453-07:00</updated><title type='text'>squirrel</title><content type='html'>there was a dead squirrel on our street. it must have been hit by a car. i didn't point it out to my daughter because i knew that it might upset or ruin the surprise when it came back from being stuffed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-4878134244706436036?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/4878134244706436036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/squirrel.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4878134244706436036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4878134244706436036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/squirrel.html' title='squirrel'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-8479922948585537817</id><published>2010-03-21T05:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-21T05:39:25.134-07:00</updated><title type='text'>meow</title><content type='html'>there are many ways to skin a cat but no market for cat coats.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-8479922948585537817?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/8479922948585537817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/meow.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8479922948585537817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8479922948585537817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/meow.html' title='meow'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-4564198888198549348</id><published>2010-03-20T12:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-20T12:06:51.873-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>in the spring i like to see the geese in the sky flying back. it represents so many things. the change of seasons, cycles of life, and the mystery of nature. sometimes i sit in awe of their beauty. other times i wish airplanes would hit them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-4564198888198549348?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/4564198888198549348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/in-spring-i-like-to-see-geese-in-sky.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4564198888198549348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4564198888198549348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/in-spring-i-like-to-see-geese-in-sky.html' title=''/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-469042128054841729</id><published>2010-03-19T17:13:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T17:13:59.094-07:00</updated><title type='text'>finger</title><content type='html'>i saw this thing on the tv about this guy who had no fingers or thumbs. they talked about all the things that he was still able to do. there was no mention of shadow puppets.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-469042128054841729?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/469042128054841729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/finger.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/469042128054841729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/469042128054841729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/finger.html' title='finger'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-3748999185094762153</id><published>2010-03-19T17:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T17:13:32.158-07:00</updated><title type='text'>fish</title><content type='html'>this lady in the store smelled like fish. it was strong and she was standing so close to me that i could also feel a certain amount of warmth coming off her. these are not things that i find attractive in a woman. most men like to imagine what a woman looks like naked. with this woman i imagined what she would smell like if she didn't smell like a fish. i could never date a woman that smelled like a fish. all those cats would drive me crazy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-3748999185094762153?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/3748999185094762153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/fish.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/3748999185094762153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/3748999185094762153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/fish.html' title='fish'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-7398531830750591986</id><published>2010-03-19T17:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T17:12:36.099-07:00</updated><title type='text'>cat</title><content type='html'>sometimes i wonder if i would take my cat more seriously if he wore glasses. then again a cat chasing a dried leaf will always be a cat chasing a dried leaf regardless of it wearing glasses. mind you i would feel more comfortable with his driving.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-7398531830750591986?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/7398531830750591986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/cat.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/7398531830750591986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/7398531830750591986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/cat.html' title='cat'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-3795783853594273887</id><published>2010-03-19T17:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T17:11:19.937-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ice</title><content type='html'>i was on my way out and as i went down our stairs i saw  this lady on the road pulling herself up. as i walked over i could tell that she wasn't doing too well. &lt;br /&gt;'are you ok' i asked her. &lt;br /&gt;'no' she said 'i banged my head. there's black ice over there'.&lt;br /&gt;i didn't know what race had to do with this but i figured her head was in a bad way.&lt;br /&gt;'do you need help?' i asked. her eyes were all watery and her jacket was covered in slush.&lt;br /&gt;'no, no. i think i'll be ok' she said.&lt;br /&gt;'ok then' i said 'i hope you feel better'.&lt;br /&gt;as i walked away i began to think about what i would have actually done if she said that she needed help. i guess i could have brought her home and made her a cup of tea and gave her a bag of frozen peas for her head. i think it would have been a very awkward situation. it's always weird having a stranger in your house and even weirder being in a strangers house. then there would have been that really awkward moment when she asked 'why do you have so many chainsaws?'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-3795783853594273887?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/3795783853594273887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/ice.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/3795783853594273887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/3795783853594273887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/ice.html' title='ice'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-7867079924497013494</id><published>2010-03-19T17:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T17:10:16.569-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>driving to work I saw this dead raccoon on the side of the road. he had been there 2 mornings in a row. He was smiling. He looked like he liked being dead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-7867079924497013494?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/7867079924497013494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/driving-to-work-i-saw-this-dead-raccoon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/7867079924497013494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/7867079924497013494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/driving-to-work-i-saw-this-dead-raccoon.html' title=''/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-2745137766300177281</id><published>2010-03-09T16:27:00.004-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T16:28:02.085-08:00</updated><title type='text'>white poo</title><content type='html'>underarm deodorant balls are the hygenic equivalent to the dangle berry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-2745137766300177281?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/2745137766300177281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/white-poo.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/2745137766300177281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/2745137766300177281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/white-poo.html' title='white poo'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-4519741487390906913</id><published>2010-03-09T16:27:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T16:27:38.494-08:00</updated><title type='text'>parallel</title><content type='html'>i would like to visit our parallel universe but i wouldn't send any postcards cause it would be like getting a postcard from here and no one would believe me. 'wish you were here. well you are but it's not really here it's there- J'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-4519741487390906913?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/4519741487390906913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/parallel.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4519741487390906913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4519741487390906913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/parallel.html' title='parallel'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-5608771132104088305</id><published>2010-03-09T16:27:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T16:27:10.749-08:00</updated><title type='text'>genes</title><content type='html'>they have genetically modified corn. it's a rather controversial subject. i think a more controversial topic will be genetically modified tulips. they will look like regular tulip bulbs but instead of them flowering,  pit-bulls dressed like Liberace on a coke and cock binge will jump out.  'i hate spring. those fucking liberace pit bulls ate my cat last year'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-5608771132104088305?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/5608771132104088305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/genes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5608771132104088305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5608771132104088305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/genes.html' title='genes'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-4075179386412078645</id><published>2010-03-09T16:25:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T16:26:39.381-08:00</updated><title type='text'>confession</title><content type='html'>i'm into auto non erotic asphxiation. it involves me sitting at the bus stop with a belt tied around my neck. sometimes i even feed the birds.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-4075179386412078645?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/4075179386412078645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/confession.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4075179386412078645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4075179386412078645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/confession.html' title='confession'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-3829548810485883081</id><published>2010-03-09T16:25:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T16:25:41.303-08:00</updated><title type='text'>seagull fucker</title><content type='html'>fucking pigeons. barf eaters. always shitting on balconies and statues. addicted to french fries fuckers. always hanging out as a crowd. always dead and squashed on the road. always flying in circles like a stupid fucker. fucking pigeon. you and your seagull friend. evil white bird. chasing other birds in the park cause you're addicted to chips. big shitter. you need a make over seagull. no rich seagulls out there are there seagull fucker'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-3829548810485883081?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/3829548810485883081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/seagull-fucker.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/3829548810485883081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/3829548810485883081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/seagull-fucker.html' title='seagull fucker'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-8023364062751294095</id><published>2010-03-09T16:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T16:25:02.092-08:00</updated><title type='text'>another note from the aliens</title><content type='html'>i think when they say 'it's got a birds eye view' they should make a note saying 'excluding pigeons and seagulls as they are always in the park and alleys and their views are of garbage cans and strange homeless people skin conditions'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-8023364062751294095?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/8023364062751294095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/another-note-from-aliens.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8023364062751294095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8023364062751294095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/another-note-from-aliens.html' title='another note from the aliens'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-4808389182062778777</id><published>2010-03-09T16:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T16:24:14.371-08:00</updated><title type='text'>a note from the aliens that i found in my room</title><content type='html'>notes from the aliens&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- when a restaurant is closed for the night they put the chairs on the tables so that they can clean the floors. at first we thought they were playing a weird stacking game but we were wrong. in the morning when the restaurant is open they put the chairs back on the floor so that the humans can sit on them. the napkin holders always remain on the table with the salt and pepper dispensers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-4808389182062778777?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/4808389182062778777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/note-from-aliens-that-i-found-in-my.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4808389182062778777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4808389182062778777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/03/note-from-aliens-that-i-found-in-my.html' title='a note from the aliens that i found in my room'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-7735593390763997474</id><published>2010-02-02T18:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-02T18:20:55.838-08:00</updated><title type='text'>end</title><content type='html'>'it sticks to the roof of your mouth like' and before she had time to finish i said 'cat food'. it was the beginning of the end of the date.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-7735593390763997474?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/7735593390763997474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/02/end.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/7735593390763997474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/7735593390763997474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/02/end.html' title='end'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-1488564449571651087</id><published>2010-01-27T02:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T02:47:07.695-08:00</updated><title type='text'>AQUA VELVA</title><content type='html'>aqua velva&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dave was this big bastard&lt;br /&gt;With only a couple of teeth left&lt;br /&gt;To be pulled.&lt;br /&gt;He told me that he had&lt;br /&gt;Hung up the bottle&lt;br /&gt;And the cigarettes&lt;br /&gt;And that he was doing odd jobs&lt;br /&gt;In the neighborhood&lt;br /&gt;And some work for the church.&lt;br /&gt;His brother was another story&lt;br /&gt;He was frequently passed out &lt;br /&gt;In the park&lt;br /&gt;"I kicked him out of my place"&lt;br /&gt;Dave said&lt;br /&gt;"I woke up one morning&lt;br /&gt;and was shaving my face&lt;br /&gt;and when I put the Aqua -Velva&lt;br /&gt;on my face, the shit didn't burn.&lt;br /&gt;So I smelled it and it didn't smell&lt;br /&gt;like anything"&lt;br /&gt;"that's strange"&lt;br /&gt;I told him&lt;br /&gt;"yeah"&lt;br /&gt;he said&lt;br /&gt;'the son of a bitch had drank it"&lt;br /&gt;I didn't really know what to say&lt;br /&gt;So I just laughed&lt;br /&gt;As Dave laughed.&lt;br /&gt;'look' I told him&lt;br /&gt;'I should get going, I have to get&lt;br /&gt;dinner ready for the lady'&lt;br /&gt;'all right' he said&lt;br /&gt;and took off towards the church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my way home&lt;br /&gt;I picked up 12 bottles of premium lager&lt;br /&gt;Imported from Belgium&lt;br /&gt;The label said that it was&lt;br /&gt;"the most acclaimed of all Belgian beers"&lt;br /&gt;it was no Aqua Velva &lt;br /&gt;I thought&lt;br /&gt;But it'd get the job done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-1488564449571651087?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/1488564449571651087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/aqua-velva.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1488564449571651087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1488564449571651087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/aqua-velva.html' title='AQUA VELVA'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-7426717509645476423</id><published>2010-01-27T02:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T02:45:57.386-08:00</updated><title type='text'>last nights dream</title><content type='html'>"God receives lifetime achievement award - thanks himself"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jan 26 2010&lt;br /&gt;Making a very rare public appearance God accepted a lifetime achievement award from "The Universal Society for All Things Bright and Beautiful". In his (sic) acceptance speech God said " I would like to thank myself for this award without my all mighty faith in myself this would not have been possible", he went on to dedicate the award to himself. God has come under recent scrutiny for his alleged role in horse race fixing. In his speech he attacked those who have spoken against him by saying "sure I could make any horse win, i could even make a giant asteroid of acid hit the earth, but I wouldn't.my intentions have always been to benefit the universe and human kind. Why do you think I make animals look so cute". When questioned about the cuteness of alligators God had no comment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-7426717509645476423?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/7426717509645476423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/last-nights-dream.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/7426717509645476423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/7426717509645476423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/last-nights-dream.html' title='last nights dream'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-4841692129302669471</id><published>2010-01-27T02:42:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T02:44:39.323-08:00</updated><title type='text'>falling down</title><content type='html'>i was on my way out and as i went down our stairs i saw  this lady on the road pulling herself up. as i walked over i could tell that she wasn't doing too well. &lt;br /&gt;'are you ok' i asked her. &lt;br /&gt;'no' she said 'i banged my head. there's black ice over there'.&lt;br /&gt;i didn't know what race had to do with this but i figured her head was in a bad way.&lt;br /&gt;'do you need help?' i asked. her eyes were all watery and her jacket was covered in slush.&lt;br /&gt;'no, no. i think i'll be ok' she said.&lt;br /&gt;'ok then' i said 'i hope you feel better'.&lt;br /&gt;as i walked away i began to think about what i would have actually done if she said that she needed help. i guess i could have brought her home and made her a cup of tea and gave her a bag of frozen peas for her head. i think it would have been a very awkward situation. it's always weird having a stranger in your house and even weirder being in a strangers house. then there would have been that really awkward moment when she asked 'why do you have so many chainsaws?'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-4841692129302669471?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/4841692129302669471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/falling-down.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4841692129302669471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4841692129302669471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/falling-down.html' title='falling down'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-8780012389340268696</id><published>2010-01-27T02:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T02:42:34.687-08:00</updated><title type='text'>an old post</title><content type='html'>i was on the subway this morning. my head was down and into a book when all of a sudden i heard a familiar splashing sound. i turned my head and sure enough it was a girl vomitting. a real chunder. she was chunderstruck. the vomit just poured out of her. at first it was all chocolate milk but then i spotted diced tomatoes. those rumours of a tomato cereal might just be true. &lt;br /&gt;i felt bad for the lass. she was obviously an inexperienced public vomitter. when round 2 hit she crouched down to reduce the splash but this one hit with good force and the shrapnel hit some shoes. i looked around and saw a few  people look like they were going to add to the pile. vomit doesn't bother me so i found the whole thing rather funny and as i looked into my bag for something to give to the girl (maybe a runny egg or a rotting pigeon) she unleashed a 3rd chunder. it was massive. it was beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;as the subway stopped at the station she ran out. all of us looked down at the pile. i think i nodded in approval. one man frowned. a lady sat with her hand over her mouth. when the new passengers got on they were all unaware of the giant chocolate milk and tomato vomit swamp. some stood in it squashing up the tomatoes real good. monday was off to a cracking start.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-8780012389340268696?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/8780012389340268696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/old-post.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8780012389340268696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/8780012389340268696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/old-post.html' title='an old post'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-5207890849249026001</id><published>2010-01-27T02:41:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T02:41:14.451-08:00</updated><title type='text'>fate</title><content type='html'>out there somewhere there's a woman that finds dandruff incredibly sexy and soon she will fall madly in love with a man who shouldn't be wearing black.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-5207890849249026001?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/5207890849249026001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/fate.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5207890849249026001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5207890849249026001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/fate.html' title='fate'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-5116251480844099306</id><published>2010-01-25T02:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T02:38:45.727-08:00</updated><title type='text'>nice</title><content type='html'>it's ok to say to someone 'have a nice day' or 'have a good lunch', 'have a great weekend', 'have a great night out' but as soon as you run into someone in the bathroom and you tell them 'have a good shit' you've apparently crossed some line. or so the human resources dept says.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-5116251480844099306?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/5116251480844099306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/nice.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5116251480844099306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5116251480844099306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/nice.html' title='nice'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-2047136125421192529</id><published>2010-01-25T02:36:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T02:36:20.868-08:00</updated><title type='text'>jar</title><content type='html'>sometimes it's impossible to open the pickle jar and it's at that moment that i believe that GOD hates us for what we did to those cucumbers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-2047136125421192529?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/2047136125421192529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/jar.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/2047136125421192529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/2047136125421192529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/jar.html' title='jar'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-6292551663322731031</id><published>2010-01-25T02:35:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T02:35:38.914-08:00</updated><title type='text'>dog no dog</title><content type='html'>we were sitting around talking about the 80's when one of my friends said 'i used to see a lot of white dog shit back in the 80's but not anymore. whatever happened to white dog shit on the street'. it made me laugh. it was true. i remember seeing my fair share of white and beige colored dog shit. thats when i told him about the beige colored stick that i picked up to throw at someone and that turned out not to be a stick. it was an odd moment and for a second i thought my hands could melt wood.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-6292551663322731031?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/6292551663322731031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/dog-no-dog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/6292551663322731031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/6292551663322731031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/dog-no-dog.html' title='dog no dog'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-4262865918550909299</id><published>2010-01-25T02:33:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T02:33:26.743-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ziggy</title><content type='html'>frank sinatra was known as old blue eyes but david bowie was never known as old blue eye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-4262865918550909299?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/4262865918550909299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/ziggy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4262865918550909299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4262865918550909299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/ziggy.html' title='ziggy'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-5131354355864526456</id><published>2010-01-21T15:31:00.004-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T15:32:29.259-08:00</updated><title type='text'>details</title><content type='html'>whenever they talk about the latest space mission and all the experiments they do in space why can't they just for once go into detail about how they take a shit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-5131354355864526456?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/5131354355864526456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/details.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5131354355864526456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5131354355864526456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/details.html' title='details'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-5546361978237026318</id><published>2010-01-21T15:31:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T15:31:52.833-08:00</updated><title type='text'>water rocks cum</title><content type='html'>if feng shui is supposed to bring balance, power and success into your life, how do they explain it when a store that specializes in feng shui goes bankrupt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-5546361978237026318?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/5546361978237026318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/water-rocks-cum.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5546361978237026318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5546361978237026318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/water-rocks-cum.html' title='water rocks cum'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-6929008356736600619</id><published>2010-01-21T15:31:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T15:31:24.936-08:00</updated><title type='text'>again with the confessions</title><content type='html'>many years ago i was at this bar and my and a friend were watching these people dance on the dance floor. at one point this girl who was dancing looked at me then took out a piece of paper and wrote something down. she walked over to me and handed it to me and went back to the dance floor. i looked down at it and on it she had written 'hi, what's your name'. i took the piece of paper and put it in my pocket, gave the girl a smile and then walked out. i could never date a mute.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-6929008356736600619?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/6929008356736600619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/again-with-confessions.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/6929008356736600619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/6929008356736600619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/again-with-confessions.html' title='again with the confessions'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-1511718062689523111</id><published>2010-01-21T15:27:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T15:29:51.850-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>'imagine if you were the first pregnant man' she asked me. 'I would be 2 things' I told her. 'huh' she said. 'I would be the first pregnant man and the first man to have an abortion'. the world would hate me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-1511718062689523111?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/1511718062689523111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/imagine-if-you-were-first-pregnant-man.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1511718062689523111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1511718062689523111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/imagine-if-you-were-first-pregnant-man.html' title=''/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-1267607279735344156</id><published>2010-01-21T15:27:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T15:27:24.464-08:00</updated><title type='text'>why</title><content type='html'>i had a friend growing up and whenever i would go over to his house his mother would tell me to take my hat off. i used to wear a backwards baseball hat all the time. his mother thought it was wrong to wear a hat in the house. the weird thing was that we never had to take off our shoes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-1267607279735344156?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/1267607279735344156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/why.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1267607279735344156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/1267607279735344156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/why.html' title='why'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-4829241009559325988</id><published>2010-01-21T15:25:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T15:27:12.347-08:00</updated><title type='text'>politically correct</title><content type='html'>ear wigs are like midget lobsters. sorry i mean little lobsters.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-4829241009559325988?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/4829241009559325988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/politically-correct.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4829241009559325988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/4829241009559325988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/politically-correct.html' title='politically correct'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336095016134632013.post-5094863301189014229</id><published>2010-01-21T15:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T15:25:24.729-08:00</updated><title type='text'>confession</title><content type='html'>when i was 19 i had this job at a gas station.  i knew fuck all about cars. they would come in and say 'fill it up and check my oil'. i would look under the hood and most of the time i couldn't find the oil stick so i would tell the driver 'yeah you are ok'. sometimes they would tip me and i would feel bad because i had lied.  i was a shit gas station attendant but i lasted the entire summer. on my lunch break i used to sit outside of the car wash and watch the people in their cars as the machines washed them. sometimes depending on my mood i would pray to god and ask him to kill them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1336095016134632013-5094863301189014229?l=memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/feeds/5094863301189014229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/confession.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5094863301189014229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1336095016134632013/posts/default/5094863301189014229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoirsofasquirrelchaser.blogspot.com/2010/01/confession.html' title='confession'/><author><name>jg</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjFaUG0690M/TwWxOuG3fDI/AAAAAAAAACo/GlCnF86d4gc/s220/wtf_photos_from_the_past_08.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
