<?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-8474746</id><updated>2011-04-21T19:22:42.082-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Samwise</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Samwise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13017007702535911052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474746.post-113824424233948826</id><published>2006-01-25T18:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-25T18:58:42.456-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Was Robbed</title><content type='html'>This morning, I woke up and started my car up in getting ready to go to work and noticed that the container between the driver and passenger seat was wide open and that there were some items on my driver's seat.  I looked in the big container and realized that the smaller CD container wasn't in there anymore.  This container may have had a few dollars worth of coins in it.  I'm not sure what else.  Apparently, in the middle of the night someone got into my car and took it.  Fortunately, he was a "nice" thief and didn't steal anything else.  I think from now on I'll keep my car doors locked at night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8474746-113824424233948826?l=samwise1977.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/feeds/113824424233948826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8474746&amp;postID=113824424233948826' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/113824424233948826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/113824424233948826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/2006/01/i-was-robbed.html' title='I Was Robbed'/><author><name>Samwise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13017007702535911052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474746.post-113470788231224645</id><published>2005-12-15T20:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-15T20:38:02.343-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Night of the Mental Lapses</title><content type='html'>I was asked by one of my program supervisors (similar to bosses) if I could pick up a guy from horse therapy (or theraputic horse riding or something like that).  I, being the kind man that I am, agreed to help out.  However, the place I was to pick him up was in a town far, far away.  I kept riding back and forth on this winding two-lane road looking for a sign with a horse on it.  I turned off onto a side road to change directions and attempt to find the unlighted sign on this dark night, and I then proceeded to turn onto a gravel road to turn onto and back out of to drive the other direction.  However, in the middle of the gravel road was a ditch, which I directed my car into.  Needless to say, my car was stuck.  I knocked on the door of a house close to where the ditch was and waited close to a minute for someone to answer.  The wife of the house opened the door, I explained my problem and asked if she knew of any tow trucks near by.  She talked to her husband, and he came out and offered to help me.  Fortunately he had a truck.  And a chain.  He attached the chain to his truck and the other side of the chain to my car.  He asked me to put my car in reverse so he could pull my car out of the ditch.  I didn't feel like getting into the car, so I leaned through the window and changed gears to reverse.  The truck pulled my car out of the ditch.  I was quite pleased.  Until I realized that the car was continuing to head towards the truck, and since I wasn't in the car, I wasn't able to stop it.  So a collusion occurred, and my tail-light was busted by the back bumper of the truck.  The man then asked me how I put my car into reverse if I wasn't in the car.  "I… Uh…" was my reply.  I thanked the man and drove off into the night.  But not into any more ditches.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8474746-113470788231224645?l=samwise1977.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/feeds/113470788231224645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8474746&amp;postID=113470788231224645' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/113470788231224645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/113470788231224645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/2005/12/night-of-mental-lapses.html' title='Night of the Mental Lapses'/><author><name>Samwise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13017007702535911052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474746.post-112827719999824773</id><published>2005-10-02T11:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-02T11:20:01.726-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The One-Eyed Driver</title><content type='html'>I was driving from my night job to church this Sunday morning, and I was eating pizza with jalepenos.  My eye itched a little, so I rubbed it with my fingers.  Unfortunately, there were pepper juices in my finger, which caused my right eye to go into great pain.  So, I had to drive to church with only the use of my left eye.  I don't know if you know it, but It's not as easy to drive with only one eye.  I got to church, and the doorman asked what is wrong with me.  I told him my story.  He said I should flush it out with water.  I told him I'd do it after church got out, since I was late as it was.  He said I should do it immediately.  So I did.  My right eye felt better after that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8474746-112827719999824773?l=samwise1977.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/feeds/112827719999824773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8474746&amp;postID=112827719999824773' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/112827719999824773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/112827719999824773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/2005/10/one-eyed-driver.html' title='The One-Eyed Driver'/><author><name>Samwise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13017007702535911052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474746.post-112510327103481879</id><published>2005-08-26T17:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-26T17:41:11.110-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Church Signs</title><content type='html'>I was driving by some church today and the sign read, "The best vitamin for a Christian is B1."  I'm not one to complain (or maybe I am), but I'm not sure that silly sayings are a great help to spreading the gospel of Jesus Christ.  It makes sense for church's to put their times of service up on their sign.  Or a web site, concert dates, program activities and the like.  Even a Bible verse would be nice.  But corny one-liners?  Following are some examples:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fear knocked. Faith answered. No one was there."&lt;br /&gt;"Life is like tennis. Serve well and everything will be good."&lt;br /&gt;"ASAP: Always Say A Prayer"&lt;br /&gt;"Don't let yourself get burned by the Son this summer"&lt;br /&gt;"All saints have a past. All sinners have a future."&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t get depressed, come get blessed!”&lt;br /&gt;“Jesus should be your steering wheel, not your spare tire.”&lt;br /&gt;“Road Rage: How would Jesus Drive?”&lt;br /&gt;“Have trouble sleeping? We have sermons, come try one!”&lt;br /&gt;"When you die you'll meet Father God, not Mother Earth." &lt;br /&gt;"3 Nails + 1 Savior = 4 giveness"&lt;br /&gt;"Be an organ donor...give your heart to Jesus"&lt;br /&gt;"Heaven is not Burger King. You can't have it your way."&lt;br /&gt;"Cards over Yanks in 6!! Jesus over Death in 3!!"&lt;br /&gt;"If you're looking for a sign from God to get back to church, this is it"&lt;br /&gt;"Walmart is not the only savings place"&lt;br /&gt;"Baskin Robbins isn't the only place with good Sundays"&lt;br /&gt;"If God is your co-pilot, you'd better switch seats"&lt;br /&gt;"Try Jesus....If you don't like Him, the devil will always take you back"&lt;br /&gt;"God always answers knee-mail"&lt;br /&gt;"Sign broken, message inside"&lt;br /&gt;"Obey if you love Jesus, anybody can honk"&lt;br /&gt;“For all you do, His blood’s for you”&lt;br /&gt;“A river of life is flowing out of this place. Come on in!”&lt;br /&gt;“Jesus is not a four-letter word.”&lt;br /&gt;“What vitamins do Christians need? 2 B1 Daily.”&lt;br /&gt;"The Bread of Life never becomes stale" &lt;br /&gt;"Martians welcome! We have space for everyone!"&lt;br /&gt;“Good – 0 = God”&lt;br /&gt;“Want to avoid burning? Try Son block!”&lt;br /&gt;“Think it’s hot? So’s hell! Think about it!”&lt;br /&gt;“To go nowhere, follow the crowd”&lt;br /&gt;“All the best things in life aren’t things”&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t put a question mark where God puts a period.”&lt;br /&gt;“A family altar can alter a family”&lt;br /&gt;“Temptation is an itch you must not scratch”&lt;br /&gt;“The difference between a stumbling block and a stepping stool is in how you use it”&lt;br /&gt;“Soul food served here”&lt;br /&gt;“We should be more concerned with the Rock of Ages than with the Age of Rocks”&lt;br /&gt;“God has a big eraser.”&lt;br /&gt;"This church is prayer conditioned."&lt;br /&gt;"Wrinkled with burdens? Come to Jesus for a faith lift."&lt;br /&gt;"Read the Bible, it'll scare the hell out of you."&lt;br /&gt;"Don't give up.  Even Moses was once a basket case."&lt;br /&gt;"Prevent truth decay. Brush up on your Bible."&lt;br /&gt;"Don't say 'Our Father' on Sundays and spend the rest of the week acting like an orphan."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comments, anyone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8474746-112510327103481879?l=samwise1977.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/feeds/112510327103481879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8474746&amp;postID=112510327103481879' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/112510327103481879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/112510327103481879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/2005/08/church-signs.html' title='Church Signs'/><author><name>Samwise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13017007702535911052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474746.post-112510019195610304</id><published>2005-08-26T16:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-26T16:49:51.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Cabin Story</title><content type='html'>Back on August 12, I was in Washington State Park in the evening.  My baptist friends and I were to go on a float trip the next day, so we decided to camp out on Saturday night.  In cabins.  With electricity.  And with air conditioning, plumbing, a refridgerator, and an already made bed.  We were really roughing it.  There were  two cabins for the girls and two cabins for the guys.  Seven guys were there the first night and perhaps a few more girls than seven.  That night I called it a night before every one else did.  I woke up somewhere between five and six in the morning in my cabin.  My two roommates weren't there.  I couldn't figure out why.  Perhaps the Rapture occurred.  Since I don't believe in that theology, I must have got left behind.  Or maybe everyone was still partying at the girl's cabin.  At 5:30 in the morning.  Turns out the other six males were asleep.  In the other cabin.  Long story short, I drove the sharers of my cabin away with my loud snoring.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8474746-112510019195610304?l=samwise1977.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/feeds/112510019195610304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8474746&amp;postID=112510019195610304' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/112510019195610304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/112510019195610304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/2005/08/cabin-story.html' title='The Cabin Story'/><author><name>Samwise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13017007702535911052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474746.post-112510010730256802</id><published>2005-08-26T16:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-26T16:48:27.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Island and the Chocolate Factory</title><content type='html'>Back on August 12, I was in south county in the afternoon, and I decided to go to the movie cinema.  To watch a movie.  I bought a ticket to watch "The Island."  Scarlett Johansson was in it.  I got there fifteen minutes before the movie began.  Actually, fifteen minutes before the previews for the movie began.  So I figured I didn't feel like waiting in the theatre for half an hour for the movie started.  So I decided I'd drop in to see my friend Charlie and the Chocolate Factory for a few minutes.  Some little girl was causing trouble in that theatre, and then some squirrels attacked her and dragged her into a hole.  The girl's father seemed pretty upset, but Willy Wonka handled it okay.  Then a bunch of Oompa Loompas came out and started dancing.  I figured it was time to get out of that room before something weird should happen.  In the hall were several movie employees.  They had brooms.  I wanted to go into the theatre across the hall, but I though it might look like I was breaking the rules if I was to go straight in there.  So I went in the restroom for a couple of minutes.  I came out and the teenagers with brooms were still there.  I wanted to look inconspicuous, so I went up to the soda machine as if I was going to buy a bottle of soda.  They cost $3 each.  There was no way I was going to buy one of those.  One of the movies down the hall ended, so the employees headed in that direction, and I was then able to sneak into the movie which I paid to see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8474746-112510010730256802?l=samwise1977.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/feeds/112510010730256802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8474746&amp;postID=112510010730256802' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/112510010730256802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/112510010730256802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/2005/08/island-and-chocolate-factory.html' title='The Island and the Chocolate Factory'/><author><name>Samwise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13017007702535911052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474746.post-112240040872477701</id><published>2005-07-26T10:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T10:53:28.756-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This Week's Sermon</title><content type='html'>This week, Pastor Mike was finishing up his series of sermons on Psalms 23.  It was interesting.  He explained that when David said that "goodness and kindness follow me all the days of my life," that goodness and kindness were symbolic of sheep dogs.  Some point in the sermon, Mike asked the congregation what we deserved from God for our sins.  No one answered, so I yelled out "Hell."  It's not every day that I get to say a four letter word in the middle of a church service.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8474746-112240040872477701?l=samwise1977.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/feeds/112240040872477701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8474746&amp;postID=112240040872477701' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/112240040872477701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/112240040872477701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/2005/07/this-weeks-sermon.html' title='This Week&apos;s Sermon'/><author><name>Samwise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13017007702535911052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474746.post-111940300005615642</id><published>2005-06-21T18:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-21T18:16:40.103-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Latest Run-In with the Cops</title><content type='html'>I work for people who have developmental disabilities.  Not by that I don't mean that my bosses are developmentally disabled, but that I'm paid to assist people who have them.  Anyways, I got out of work at 8 in the morning and I was very tired.  I was concerned if I started driving, I might doze off and wreck havoc, so I decided that I'd take a short nap before going to back to work a little bit later.  Half an hour later, I got a knock on my car door.  Two cops were standing there.  They asked what I was doing.  I said I was sleeping.  They asked if I lived in the apartment complex where my car was parked, and I said no.  And I explained what my job was.  They said that I was on private property and I wasn't allowed to sleep in my car there.  They said someone called and said that I had vandalized the fence that my car was parked next to.  I told them that person was lying.  They asked me to get out of the car.  I did.  They asked for my driver's license.  I gave it to them.  They asked me if my car was a police car.  I said it used to be.  They asked how I got it.  I thought of sarcastically saying that I stole it, but instead said that I bought it from someone.  They asked if I had gotten any tickets.  I said that I got a speeding ticket a few years ago.  They asked if I paid it.  I said that I had.  They asked what my plans were for the day.  I said that I was picking up a customer at 9:30.  They said that they thought I should leave to pick him up.  And I did. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8474746-111940300005615642?l=samwise1977.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/feeds/111940300005615642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8474746&amp;postID=111940300005615642' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/111940300005615642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/111940300005615642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/2005/06/my-latest-run-in-with-cops.html' title='My Latest Run-In with the Cops'/><author><name>Samwise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13017007702535911052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474746.post-111768628184609161</id><published>2005-06-01T21:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-01T21:24:42.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things not to say at a gas station</title><content type='html'>I stopped by 7-11 today.  When I was in line, the woman in front of me bought a lottery ticket and told the cashier that if she won the lottery, the whole world would be happy.  I interjected, saying that if she won, everybody that didn't win the lottery would be unhappy.  She looked me in the eye and said that if she won the lottery, she'd share it with everyone, so then they would be happy.  As she walked out of the gas station, I said, "Maybe you should give me your number, then."  She may have interpreted that the wrong way.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8474746-111768628184609161?l=samwise1977.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/feeds/111768628184609161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8474746&amp;postID=111768628184609161' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/111768628184609161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/111768628184609161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/2005/06/things-not-to-say-at-gas-station.html' title='Things not to say at a gas station'/><author><name>Samwise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13017007702535911052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474746.post-111422628534920562</id><published>2005-04-22T20:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-22T20:18:05.350-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Five Long Minutes</title><content type='html'>On Wednesday, I was picking up my friend Darrin from school.  He works in the school cafeteria, washing dishes there.  I drove into the back parking lot of the school (Francis Howell South) and he got in the car.  As we were trying to leave the parking lot, a woman with a badge on signalled that I should stop my car.  She wasn't a cop though.  She was a security guard at the school.  Anyways, she asked why we were leaving.  I told her that I had picked up my friend Darrin and we were heading out.  She informed me that there was a problem with students running away from school and I needed permission if I was to leave with him.  I explained to the lady that my friend wasn't a student, but he worked at the cafeteria.  She called some person with her walkie talkie to report that I was taking off with a student.  I was getting more than a little frustrated with the woman.  The person on the walkie talkie said that no student was allowed to leave without a pass.  Trying to figure out what to do, a light bulb went off in my head.  I unscrewed it and took it out, and then I asked Darrin if he had any picture ID.  Darrin found it and gave it to me.  While the woman was probably getting ready to call the police on me, I showed her the non-driver's license and said, "Look.  Darrin was born in 1969.  He is not in high school!"  The woman, looking embarrassed, said she was sorry, and let us go.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8474746-111422628534920562?l=samwise1977.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/feeds/111422628534920562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8474746&amp;postID=111422628534920562' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/111422628534920562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/111422628534920562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/2005/04/five-long-minutes.html' title='Five Long Minutes'/><author><name>Samwise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13017007702535911052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474746.post-111007903930088078</id><published>2005-03-05T19:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-05T19:17:19.300-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The prophet Samuel</title><content type='html'>Last month, somewhere in the middle of it, I went to some Bible study in O'Fallon with my friend Peter.  The subject of the prophet Samuel came up, when God sent Samuel to the house of Jesse to anoint the new king.  Samuel looked at Eliab and incorrectly assumed that he was God's choice.   So Peter said, "Boy, your parents sure screwed up when they named you."  To which I replied, "At least I didn't deny Christ three times before the rooster crowed."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Granted, the prophet Samuel wasn't perfect.  But I really like the guy.  He was somebody who would tell people what they needed to hear, even if it was bad news.  As a young child, his mom tells him it's time for him to move out of the house.  He has to live with some old, overweight priest named Eli.  Apparently Eli wasn't the best father in the world, so God had Samuel tell him his sons were going to be killed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Decades passed and Samuel became an old man.  The people wanted a king.  Samuel told them they were making the biggest mistake of there lives, but they wouldn't listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, the first king Saul turned out (surprise, surprise) to be a bad king.  So Samuel told him that Saul was going to lose his position, which Saul wasn't particularly thrilled to hear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, after Samuel already passed on, Saul called Samuel up from the dead.  Samuel wasn't real happy about that and told him that tomorrow he and his sons would be dead for being such a bad king.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8474746-111007903930088078?l=samwise1977.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/feeds/111007903930088078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8474746&amp;postID=111007903930088078' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/111007903930088078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/111007903930088078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/2005/03/prophet-samuel.html' title='The prophet Samuel'/><author><name>Samwise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13017007702535911052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474746.post-110939195096433887</id><published>2005-02-25T20:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-25T20:34:42.010-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Car Accident</title><content type='html'>Back in January, later January, I had a car accident. Not on a road, but in a parking lot. I was backing up from my parking spot and accidentally backed into another vehicle. First time I ever did that before. I re-parked my car. The vehicle I violated was some sort of SUV, I think. It had some scratches on the back bumper. I decided not to drive away from my responsibilities. I poked my head into the post office, and asked if anyone had a black Ford Explorer. The mail guy said, "Yes. Someone has a Ford Explorer. I don't know who it belongs to, but I'm sure somebody owns it." Taking his sarcasm as a no, I went back outside to figure out what to do next. Perhaps I should try some other adjoining stores. Then the lady came out of the post office who owned the car. She seemed to appreciate me for stepping up to the plate, so to speak. We exchanged numbers, and I hoped her repairs weren't to expensive. Turns out the top part of the bumper was knocked loose a little bit. Fortunately, it only cost a little less than $100 for her SUV to be repaired. And about $220 to fix my police-mobile.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8474746-110939195096433887?l=samwise1977.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/feeds/110939195096433887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8474746&amp;postID=110939195096433887' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/110939195096433887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/110939195096433887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/2005/02/car-accident.html' title='Car Accident'/><author><name>Samwise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13017007702535911052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474746.post-110592411438230867</id><published>2005-01-16T17:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-16T17:08:34.383-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Flat Tire</title><content type='html'>Friday was a rather rough day.  I was working, driving a customer around who had autism.  My tire, which was a little bit on the flat side before, got very flat.  I went to the gas station to fill it up with air.  It seemed okay, but for some reason, once I started driving, it ran out of air again.  At about 2 miles per hour, my car dragged its way back to a gas station.  My customer was rather agitated and was anxious to get home.  So I called a cab and paid for his departure.  It was freezing cold, below 20 degrees.  And I forgot my jacket.  I called my dad for help, and he came to the rescue.  Before he got here, I had jacked up the car, but when I tried to unscrew the tire off, the tire kept moving.  Apparently, I was supposed to do that before I jacked up the car.  My dad helped me change the tire, and fortunately brought my jacket and a winter hat.  It took me the rest of the evening to thaw out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8474746-110592411438230867?l=samwise1977.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/feeds/110592411438230867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8474746&amp;postID=110592411438230867' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/110592411438230867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/110592411438230867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/2005/01/flat-tire.html' title='A Flat Tire'/><author><name>Samwise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13017007702535911052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474746.post-109615809375990316</id><published>2004-09-25T17:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-25T17:21:33.760-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Samwise</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.google.com/"&gt;Google&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just ran across this interesting web site.  It looks useful.  I hope you can use it, too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8474746-109615809375990316?l=samwise1977.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/feeds/109615809375990316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8474746&amp;postID=109615809375990316' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/109615809375990316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/109615809375990316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/2004/09/samwise_25.html' title='Samwise'/><author><name>Samwise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13017007702535911052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474746.post-109615803039746203</id><published>2004-09-25T17:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-25T17:20:30.396-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Samwise</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/"&gt;Samwise&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just ran across this blog.  I'm not sure what I think about it.  Probably needs new boots and a sweater.  I'll eat cheese after Tuesday, but I've forgotten my tickets.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8474746-109615803039746203?l=samwise1977.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/feeds/109615803039746203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8474746&amp;postID=109615803039746203' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/109615803039746203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/109615803039746203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/2004/09/samwise.html' title='Samwise'/><author><name>Samwise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13017007702535911052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8474746.post-109615693833088569</id><published>2004-09-25T17:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-25T17:02:18.330-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oops.</title><content type='html'>Oops.  I just started my own blog-thing-a-ma-jig.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8474746-109615693833088569?l=samwise1977.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/feeds/109615693833088569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8474746&amp;postID=109615693833088569' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/109615693833088569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8474746/posts/default/109615693833088569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samwise1977.blogspot.com/2004/09/oops.html' title='Oops.'/><author><name>Samwise</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13017007702535911052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
