<?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-6125073</id><updated>2011-04-21T14:47:14.269-07:00</updated><title type='text'>shmorgan's version</title><subtitle type='html'>A completely incomplete, unreliable, irresponsible online journal.  Written by an author that portrays these characteristics as a way of life.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://morganshmorgan.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6125073/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morganshmorgan.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>morgan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17617260073422738332</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>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125073.post-107345595041907638</id><published>2004-01-06T22:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-06T22:12:50.036-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"So the Germans thought he was on their side, and the allies thought he was on their side....but what else can you expect from a man who would kill his own son."&lt;br /&gt;-Bob Leverman on God's role in WWII&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay- snow in victoria, I KNOW!!! It;s terrible, so when I left the house this morning to do copious amounts of chores in the snow, I was like Grumble grumble grumble.  I hated the world.  But then two things happened.  The first being the gentlemen I walked by who was shoveling his driveway with a piece of cardboard.  WE DON"T HAVE NO STINKING SHOVELS!!!  That made me smile.  And then while I was smiling, I noticed how mad everyone was at the world in general.  Drivers, the people waiting at the bus stops because all the buses were full, the people who were trying to look uppity with their red noses, the people who were slipping, and the people who just hated the world, and it was funny and uplifting.  Other peoples misery and anger just lifted my day to a whole different level. Is that bad?&lt;br /&gt;Peace&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6125073-107345595041907638?l=morganshmorgan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6125073/posts/default/107345595041907638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6125073/posts/default/107345595041907638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morganshmorgan.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107345595041907638' title=''/><author><name>morgan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17617260073422738332</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125073.post-107337729911211495</id><published>2004-01-06T00:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-06T00:21:58.433-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"I think the guy in the hat did something terrible." &lt;br /&gt;  -William Hurt, The Big Chill&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Top Five Movies in No particular order&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Big Chill&lt;br /&gt;The Royal Tenenbaums&lt;br /&gt;Dead Poets Society&lt;br /&gt;MASH&lt;br /&gt;Caddyshack&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Top Five Songs that I would listen to right this second in no particular order&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unchained Melody- Righteous Brothers&lt;br /&gt;Please Don't let me be Misunderstood- Santa Esmerelda starringLeroy Gomez&lt;br /&gt;These Arms of Mine- Otis Redding&lt;br /&gt;My Baby Shot me Down- Nancy Sinatra&lt;br /&gt;Chelsea Hotel:  LC&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more,&lt;br /&gt;ummm....best date ever.  Back in the first thirty days of December, I had a date with a boy named Kev, or Ken it hardly matters really.  Said date lasted from ten am to 9:30 pm.  We were drunk my noon.  We went to the beach.  We napped.  These are like my three most favorite activities.  This was my dream date and I didn't even know it.  Drinking, napping, going to the beach.  Drink, Nap, Beach.  &lt;br /&gt;I am going to write a story this week about an abusive boyfriend, who abuses when he feels the hand around his heart let go, or clench to tight.  It scares him.   I don't know if it scares him because he doesn't know the meaning of the motion, or if he doesn't know who's hand it is.  I want to kill him, but since he's the narrator I can't and I only want to kill him so I can personally figure that people that are so big, with their personalities and brains and mind.  With their hopes, dreams and the misunderstandings that cost them their childhoods or the happiness.  I want to  know that these people can bleed, can die, are in fact one of us.  Maybe I should make him bleed.  Is that selfish....&lt;br /&gt;I also thought about writing a Rudyesque story, but making the main character no good at his sport.  He doesn't give up. He trains, he sits at the pitch or rink, he gets in coaches faces, he has a good attitude, but he never succeeds because he sucks.  That doesn't sound as comic as I had intended.  It could be funny.  So could genocide...I know.&lt;br /&gt;I am really excited to write, and if I get all my chores done this week that's what I am going to do on Sunday.  I am taking my computer and my notebook and I am going to sit at Maude's and write my head off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, these are all the things that Liz and I want to do before I have to go.&lt;br /&gt;1. Cow tipping (we know the when and the where)&lt;br /&gt;2.  Lazer luge (that's my sled) down Mt. Washington&lt;br /&gt;3.  Lawn Bowl&lt;br /&gt;4.  Curling&lt;br /&gt;5.  All of the above in the 5 stages of drunkiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so happy to drive with Liz today.  We laughed all the way home from Nanaimaho.  Life is sometimes so good.  When I think of the people I am surrounded by, I get choked up.  What did I do to deserve, a Jax, a Liz, a Steve, a Joy, a Matt, a Darcy, a Kerry, a Kim, a Zeke, a Sandy, a Lisa, a Chaddy, an Arnie a Whole bunch of boy and girl Vikes...is it always so heavenly in Victoria.  Has there always been so much love.  If I were to ever pray, I would ask god to deliver me back to Victoria...one day.&lt;br /&gt;Peace  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6125073-107337729911211495?l=morganshmorgan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6125073/posts/default/107337729911211495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6125073/posts/default/107337729911211495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morganshmorgan.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107337729911211495' title=''/><author><name>morgan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17617260073422738332</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125073.post-107169342882767749</id><published>2003-12-17T12:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-12-17T12:37:22.753-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"You told me again you preferred handsome men &lt;br /&gt;but for me you would make an exception. &lt;br /&gt;And clenching your fist for the ones like us &lt;br /&gt;who are oppressed by the figures of beauty, &lt;br /&gt;you fixed yourself, you said, Well never mind, &lt;br /&gt;we are ugly but we have the music. "&lt;br /&gt;-LC&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LC I cannot get you out of my  head.  But perhaps&lt;br /&gt;it is the time for darkness it being christmas&lt;br /&gt;and all.  I couldn't decide what to write about &lt;br /&gt;in my journal, today.  I think that is based&lt;br /&gt;on the fact that I don't actually know who reads&lt;br /&gt;it, so I shall enter a warning.  These are my&lt;br /&gt;thoughts, and though, I expect and enjoy comments&lt;br /&gt;from Matt, and Joy and those of you I have known&lt;br /&gt;for more than three years, I don't generally want&lt;br /&gt;to discuss my journal for those who just happen&lt;br /&gt;to read it.  So read on if you wish, but I am writing&lt;br /&gt;in secret.&lt;br /&gt;First I wanted to write about my ode to Joy.  It's&lt;br /&gt;so cheesy, but I can't seem to helpmyself.  I&lt;br /&gt;totally love her.  She is so amazingly brilliant&lt;br /&gt;and though most people think I'm pretty quick&lt;br /&gt;I am not in her class.  I stumble over words where&lt;br /&gt;she is so composed, someone that truly belongs with&lt;br /&gt;words I suppose.  She is the smartest girl that&lt;br /&gt;I know and everyonce in a while when I see pictures&lt;br /&gt;of her I think- wow joy really is beautiful. &lt;br /&gt;I guess her personalities so big, I don't have &lt;br /&gt;time to notice what a beautiful person she is too.&lt;br /&gt;Then i went on a bit of a date with Jay.  It&lt;br /&gt;was confusing. Because he's older I feel like &lt;br /&gt;there's a different time line or gameplan I'm&lt;br /&gt;not aware of.  Like the vikes just stepped onto&lt;br /&gt;a basketball court or something.  And the fact&lt;br /&gt;that Joy and Matt warned him.  God bless them.  &lt;br /&gt;It doesn't seem to work when I warn boys.  maybe&lt;br /&gt;it's taken as hard to get. If they warned me, I&lt;br /&gt;would not see him.  I don't want all of their&lt;br /&gt;friends to hate me.  I like him, but I'm &lt;br /&gt;not sure if I will see him again or not, plus &lt;br /&gt;with exams and fundraising and CLEANING, and&lt;br /&gt;christmas shopping, My mind is full and I find it&lt;br /&gt;screaming in my sleep.  Another three am run.&lt;br /&gt;That's not normal is it?&lt;br /&gt;Jax asked me if I was mad that Joy and Matt said&lt;br /&gt;that to J.  She seemed to think that I should&lt;br /&gt;be, but the fact is I'm a good friend, most of &lt;br /&gt;the time.  I have trouble with secrets, but I'm &lt;br /&gt;better, and though I am pretty self-absorbed, &lt;br /&gt;lazy and shallow, I think I do Ok.  I love my &lt;br /&gt;friends, and I suspect they love me, with my&lt;br /&gt;qualities and faults.  But they're right.  I'm&lt;br /&gt;shitty at this stuff, and Jay is their friend&lt;br /&gt;too.  He has a right to know.  I should have&lt;br /&gt;a scarlet letter that says I'm shitty at this &lt;br /&gt;stuff on my forhead or something.&lt;br /&gt;I just don't get the people you see walking down&lt;br /&gt;the street.  They're holding hands, and I look&lt;br /&gt;and think, look how simple it is for them.  If&lt;br /&gt;it were steve or joy or Pete, or another friend&lt;br /&gt;I could hold hands and be simple...but as soon&lt;br /&gt;as other emotions or rules or goals are there&lt;br /&gt;they are so...heavy...so heavy...I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;Why is something that is so simple for others&lt;br /&gt;so restricting for me.  &lt;br /&gt;    Sometimes I sit by the window and&lt;br /&gt;	I think to myself&lt;br /&gt;	it's strange how some rooms are&lt;br /&gt;	like cages&lt;br /&gt;Just me and sunny- such obvious children I guess.&lt;br /&gt;I might phone Kev, tonight...maybe tomorrow.  &lt;br /&gt;I put off I suppose.  I put off.&lt;br /&gt;Well, that was heavy and well onto paper and&lt;br /&gt;off my mind.  &lt;br /&gt;Peace&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6125073-107169342882767749?l=morganshmorgan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6125073/posts/default/107169342882767749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6125073/posts/default/107169342882767749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morganshmorgan.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107169342882767749' title=''/><author><name>morgan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17617260073422738332</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125073.post-107154578526472677</id><published>2003-12-15T19:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-12-15T19:40:33.780-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"You know that I long to live with you,&lt;br /&gt;but you make me forget so very much.&lt;br /&gt;I forget to pray for the angels,&lt;br /&gt;and then the angels forget to pray for us."&lt;br /&gt;-LC&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're alright LC you're alright with me.  A little play on jesus.    So it's the day after my party and wow.  It was great.  I think everything went over pretty well.  All the food was GONE.  There was 1 cookie left this morning and Kerry ate it.  So I guess if I am to woo N with my superb baking skills, I have to make new ones.  I am sure there are worse fates.  The people I saw leaving were all pretty happy, so I think that most people had a good time.  I don't know.  I was drunk.  I am having fun piecing it together today.   Liz and I were in Cordova bay, and I was like, I think I drove by this house last night.  That was cool.  Did I make a date for new years?  That's strange.  &lt;br /&gt;So let's start with the most remarkable.  Well, it's a eight way tie.  Joy- so great to see you.  So wonderful to drink with you, talk with you, smoke with you, look so unflatteringly into Ryan's camera with you, laugh with you and hug you when ever I felt like it.  I just felt so much love when I was around you.   There was smoke and stormy weather.  And I was out of my skin happy to drink with you.  If god forbid, you are ever single again I am holding you to your promise.&lt;br /&gt;Jax- didn't hang out with you enough but I think you should make a play for Darcy.  He's single now.  Glimpses of the night.  A hug, me asking R his intentions, you telling K that I was a spectacular catch, hearing about the pepsi incident (No longer allowed in the kitchen at all- not even plastic's safe), you handing me wine glasses, so you wouldn't break them.  Laughing at the liquor bottles that were calling your name.  Yoo Hoo.  Jax?  Jax?  so funny I love walking and laughing with you when we are hammered.&lt;br /&gt;Matt- didn't see you as much, but always knew you were there.  Heard you held Liz responsible for my disappearance.  Very classy.  Loved waking up with you and watching you piece together the pepsi incident.  So the pepsi exploded and then I wasn't wearing any socks...I think I threw them out.&lt;br /&gt;Needed more Steve.  Not enough Steve, though I thank him for showing up despite the amount of homework he had.  &lt;br /&gt;Liz- always a classic.  Love the player profiles, the posters, the drinking before the party and making Chris drink every time he spilled.  Put your finger in that!!!  SO funny.  Also the scamming...clever girl.  &lt;br /&gt;Jay-  You absolutely fascinate me.  I wasn't trying to seduce you, but if I was, I would have acted the same way.  And lets be honest, who wouldn't give it a good honest try.  I wanted to just look at your face.  Your eyes were lighter then I thought they would be and I just wanted to sit and stare.  Not even in a sexual way though I doubt it would take much of a push.  Just fascinating and lovely and...completely unexplainable.  &lt;br /&gt;Chris and Andrea- though we will never be able to go back to that liquor store, I am glad you were here, meeting, greeting, drinking very little, and hopefully having a good time.&lt;br /&gt;Darcy-  I miss you so much.  Such a good room mate, so funny, so great.  Want to get high and play bocce.  I don't like her either.  Here's to being single, seeing doubles and drinking triples.  &lt;br /&gt;Kev-  I know it's not your name, but it will have to do as I am the most shallow person alive.  Talk, talked talked...so long, and drove and had a wicked time, but &lt;br /&gt;am now worried about phoning.  Can we be friends.  No absolutely not.  I am incapable.  Can we date.  I hope so, but in comes the film theory.  Since my second year, I never take pictures of me with boyfriends because by the time they are developed, it's over and it just makes me feel bad.  So do I phone and court danger, or leave well enough alone.   I think I know the answer to that.   Matt!!!!!It was a shared moment.  And tell Jay I am sorry I scared him- his aura it's incredible.&lt;br /&gt;MIA- Sandy, Kimmy, Courtney, Jon Eng, Warren, Zeke, Chaddy, and Nicole.   Oh where have you gone Joe DiMaggio, our nation turns it's lonely eyes to you.  God bless what a wonderful time.&lt;br /&gt;Peace&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6125073-107154578526472677?l=morganshmorgan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6125073/posts/default/107154578526472677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6125073/posts/default/107154578526472677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morganshmorgan.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107154578526472677' title=''/><author><name>morgan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17617260073422738332</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125073.post-107111166845485638</id><published>2003-12-10T19:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-12-10T19:01:21.090-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>“Credit cards are the nemesis of Anticipation.”&lt;br /&gt;-Wilbur&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m going shopping!!!! Yay!!!  It’s party week and there’s so much to do, I keep forgetting I have exams.  I took a break and went to visit the parents.  I felt that since I’d been partying for three days with no funds, that if I didn’t break out, I’d find myself on day four even though I had no money.  And once you’re on day four, you have to go ALL THE WAY through the week, and my party would suck and I’d put in a poor performance.  It’s tough being a team player.&lt;br /&gt;My parents gave me Pirates of the Caribbean.  I love Johnny Depp.  Can you even come close to believeing he’s the same dude in Fear and Loathing In Los Vegas?  Of course you can’t.  I can’t.  Not even Johnny Depp is sure.&lt;br /&gt;I’m a little drunk.  When I started this blog I wasn’t but now…there’s no return. I have no will against Captain morgan and spiced rum.  One problem.  Steve Left and now I am all alone.  Alas.  Jax is out of commission, or town, whatever.  Liz is all- what just sitting and drinking?   Lisa- not even worth calling.  She’s all about sober right now.   Joy- love too, will, but probably won’t come over…just me and the bro dog and the 60 of wisers lurking in the corner, watching, looking, judging, look at the baby, look at the baby.  Maybe I will 411 and phone old friends, and drink in the darkness.  And sing crooners songs, and cry on the stairs and laugh in my heart.  Perhaps I will venture out into the middle of the road when the traffic dies and offer my tears to the rain.  Perchance I will wander to the beach and grind my heart into dust and mix it into the sand.  Possibly I have already done that.  Conceivably I will tell Liz to come over, pour her a drink, and see if she can resist.  Believably I will watch movies that I can recite along with the lines, and fall in love with unattractive actors with unbelievable one liners.  Catastrophicly I will sit here till I run out of words that I can tack –ly onto.  Horrificly, Lorna Jackson says that they weaken a story, but I think they’ve proven just how alone and half way to drunk I am.  Magnificently it sinks in how much soccer is over and drinking has begun.  I feel like I’ve ended a marriage…. “you ask me if I’m happy now and that’s as good as any joke I’ve heard.  It seems that since you ask me last I’ve done forgot the meaning of the word.   If happiness is empty rooms and drinking in the afternoons then I suppose I’m happy as a clam.  But if it has a thing to do with smiling or forgetting you, then I guess, I don’t suppose I am.  Learning hard to live with losing you.” Kris Kristofferson.  He’s hot and he’s my hero and on my top five celebrities I’d sleep with even if they turned out to be assholes.  Bruce Willis, Kris Kristofferson, William Hurt,  Jason Lee and Leonard Cohen.  I wonder if those people ever google their own name.  That would be pretty pathetic, but like I said, I’d sleep with them anyway.  Also anyone that eats a cupcake in one bite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6125073-107111166845485638?l=morganshmorgan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6125073/posts/default/107111166845485638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6125073/posts/default/107111166845485638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morganshmorgan.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107111166845485638' title=''/><author><name>morgan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17617260073422738332</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125073.post-107065163993452265</id><published>2003-12-05T11:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-12-05T11:26:07.736-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"One can never creep, when one desires to soar." &lt;br /&gt;-Helen Keller&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Helen Keller obviously did e.  There's no creeping. But there is aLOT of soaring. All I want is to do it again.  Is that wrong?  Kimmy told me to write about it,&lt;br /&gt;because it was my first time, but I honestly don't know how I couldn't.  I will probably talk about it with friends, but I know I shouldn't because they'll make me feel bad about it.  Why should they?  Most of them do relationships and I think those are wrong, restrictive, and bad for individuals as well as society:)  I don't&lt;br /&gt;judge...Hee Hee.  &lt;br /&gt;So last night at about 9:30, me kimmy, Teresa, and Amilie all took E and went to theone lounge.  It was so great.  We were so happy.  Us and these other four girls were the only girls on the dance floor, but by the time the place closed it was packed.&lt;br /&gt;The E, the E, The E!!!  Amilie looked like she was going to bust out of her skin all night.  She was so happy.  Her and Teresa, were the happiest couple in the world&lt;br /&gt;last night, with Amilie running around the entire dance floor, and Teresa being the wily old vet who kept running her hands up everyones arms and back.  Feels SO good.&lt;br /&gt;I danced for two and a half hours without a break.  No wonder I'm sore today.  I'm glad Kim was there.  She kept giving me gum, and asking me how I felt, and giving me water and gum.&lt;br /&gt;Now as to how it felt.  At first it was overwhelming.  The sound that the base makes, the rumble as it works it's way up your legs, the sounds fade away for minutes, and your like I am so much higher, then everyone else.  Sometimes it was outside me, and&lt;br /&gt;then I felt like Am did.  So much energy, singing, dancing all over the floor.  Giving everyone high fives, and dirty dancing with way too many guys.  We didn't even care if they were hot.  I never got as into it as everyone else did.  Someone would grab my ass&lt;br /&gt;and I'd be like, yeah, feels ok, but you are filthy dirty, and I'm goin' back to my girls- even when they were hot!!!  Wow. Then other times I would go inside my self, and I'd close my eyes and float.  The music&lt;br /&gt;was so great (even though typically I hate the ONE) and evey song was like.  YEs.  My arms were the most incredible thing.  Stretching, feeling my shoulder blades squeeze together, running my own hands down my arms.  And I'd breathe deep and the air coming &lt;br /&gt;off the fan was so wonderful.  It was my own world.  Kim said I was dancing sexy.  I was just trying to feel it all you know.  Then something would bring me out of it, like when they played that shoop remix, and we were SO excited because we play that song in the dressing room before games.  It's so great.  SO great.  So we'd all scream and jump up and sing the whole song. "girls what's my weakness- men!!" &lt;br /&gt;Kim was also saying how cool it was to watch Am and me on our first times, and because we are such different people, how we responded to it differently.  I don't know how anyone could be so nice and patient with everyone else when you are on E.  It's a &lt;br /&gt;truly selfish drug.  When Kim's name came on the screen we were screaming, and we made friends with the group of other girls that was on the floor, and they were screaming. It was great. We were happy.&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday Kim,&lt;br /&gt;and Happy Birthday to me!!!&lt;br /&gt;Peace and HAPPINESS  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6125073-107065163993452265?l=morganshmorgan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6125073/posts/default/107065163993452265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6125073/posts/default/107065163993452265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morganshmorgan.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107065163993452265' title=''/><author><name>morgan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17617260073422738332</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125073.post-107013572352997673</id><published>2003-11-29T11:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-29T11:56:18.943-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"What we play is life."&lt;br /&gt;        -Louis Armstrong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was fantastic.  Steve bought a forty.  We drank it.  Just the two of us.  It's TRUE!!! My drinking has reached new and exciting levels.  I need a sponsor and maybe a colour commentator.&lt;br /&gt;I met Steve's room mate Jay and his friend Ken.  I called that guy Kev, though, and will probably continue to do so because I think it's funny.  There's no accounting for taste.&lt;br /&gt;This morning Steve was like "I love you, but I hate you." Join the club man, join the club.  &lt;br /&gt;Speaking of clubs, Kev was like, I was only going to come by for a half hour.  He said that whilst looking at the empty case of beer and the empty 40 this morning.  They were my everest.  Anyway, he stayed- I did that.  Hee Hee.  A whoo Hoo!  I did that.  And Liz and I collaborated to make sure Jax never went home that night, and that Sandy didn't go to work, and that Ben lost the drinking game, and I got Liz drunk before her test, and Steve tanked before his assignment due, and Kerry yacking before the party ever started....I have conquered!!!!!  I didn't mean for Kerry to yak though.  She did so well at rookie....&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I think I'm still drunk, so off to it's noon and NOW I feel like crap....damnit.  Just kidding.  I'm FANTASTIC.  (Still drunk?)&lt;br /&gt;Peace&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6125073-107013572352997673?l=morganshmorgan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6125073/posts/default/107013572352997673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6125073/posts/default/107013572352997673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morganshmorgan.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#107013572352997673' title=''/><author><name>morgan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17617260073422738332</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125073.post-106978870548339184</id><published>2003-11-25T11:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-25T11:31:53.713-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"In the beginning the universe was created.  This has made alot of people very angry and has been widely regarded as a bad move."&lt;br /&gt;-Douglas Adams&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not too much to say today.  The world is a big blurry blob when one can't see.  Pretty deep.  I'm lucky people call to me or wave, otherwise I would have ignored a horde of people today.  They are everywhere...people.  I shouldn't even poste this it is SO boring, but I will for the incredible lack of posts I have.  &lt;br /&gt;Peace&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6125073-106978870548339184?l=morganshmorgan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6125073/posts/default/106978870548339184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6125073/posts/default/106978870548339184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morganshmorgan.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106978870548339184' title=''/><author><name>morgan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17617260073422738332</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125073.post-106969617109840614</id><published>2003-11-24T09:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-24T09:49:38.786-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"The world will explode at 8pm, 8:30 Newfoundland"&lt;br /&gt;-old joke from CBC news, sometime in the eighties.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought that this might be a good thing to start.  I just read my friend Joy's and some of Ben's and though I'm not nearly as clever, I'm ready to explore this world of cyber journal...ism...or something.&lt;br /&gt;Pretty stressed this morning because I haven't done any work this semester.  I have a paper that's almost a week late because of an eye infection.  &lt;br /&gt;I was at the bar last night-seeing has nothing to do with drinking- and I walked by a bunch of people I know.  They were like "I waved but you just walked by..."  I was trying to tell them that I can't see, and that the aviators inside the pub weren't just cosmetic, but I couldn't bring myself to say infection...sounds so STDish.  And so I was misunderstood.&lt;br /&gt;Have master plan to score with N. today.   It's good.  Involves my kitchen skills.  Oh Yeah.  His guns are useless against them.  &lt;br /&gt;Have started planning christmas bash.  Another random party brought to you by morgan -searching for mr.shmorgan- A surprise christmas party.  I have thought of about 24 random participants that I would like to come, and I hope that they will bring a couple friends.  It's gonna be great.  I hope it works out.  eight people or 30 I'll still be drinkin'.  I'm going to try to make it all the way through my party this time.  Let's not talk about my birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6125073-106969617109840614?l=morganshmorgan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6125073/posts/default/106969617109840614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6125073/posts/default/106969617109840614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morganshmorgan.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106969617109840614' title=''/><author><name>morgan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17617260073422738332</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
