<?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-6687100993204022763</id><updated>2012-02-16T07:35:02.523-06:00</updated><category term='corn'/><category term='Kids'/><category term='hat'/><category term='Playing'/><category term='spaghetti'/><category term='life lessons'/><category term='sleeping in'/><category term='breakfast'/><title type='text'>Internet Corn</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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>40</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687100993204022763.post-8892729948340576710</id><published>2010-06-18T21:23:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-18T21:30:44.067-05:00</updated><title type='text'>He's Observant</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/TBwrOvaVfGI/AAAAAAAAAB0/_eESqxTNI84/s1600/watchsign.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 274px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/TBwrOvaVfGI/AAAAAAAAAB0/_eESqxTNI84/s400/watchsign.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484305978475510882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was driving through the neighborhood and my son said "Why does that sign have a picture of Eve-a on it?"  I told him I didn't know what he was talking about.  The next time we went through the same spot and he said there is the Eve-a sign.  I stopped and realized he was talking about the neighborhood watch sign, which did have a graphic on it that looks a lot like Eve from Wall-E.  I had to stop and take a picture of it.  I'm wondering if anyone reported my suspicious behavior when I was taking the picture of the sign.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-8892729948340576710?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/8892729948340576710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=8892729948340576710' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/8892729948340576710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/8892729948340576710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2010/06/hes-observant.html' title='He&apos;s Observant'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/TBwrOvaVfGI/AAAAAAAAAB0/_eESqxTNI84/s72-c/watchsign.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687100993204022763.post-6693922508922929780</id><published>2010-06-11T20:51:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T20:55:26.350-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Latest Project</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/TBLopgtwVCI/AAAAAAAAABs/sS1KkgEAuNc/s1600/truckshelf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/TBLopgtwVCI/AAAAAAAAABs/sS1KkgEAuNc/s400/truckshelf.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481699496317441058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife bought the red truck shelf, and I made one to match it.  All the painting was done by her, I only handled the wood work.  The boys like it so much they actually put their cars away.  We'll I guess it doesn't exactly match, it is running the other way on purpose.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-6693922508922929780?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/6693922508922929780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=6693922508922929780' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/6693922508922929780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/6693922508922929780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2010/06/latest-project.html' title='Latest Project'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/TBLopgtwVCI/AAAAAAAAABs/sS1KkgEAuNc/s72-c/truckshelf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687100993204022763.post-4667310531599363353</id><published>2010-06-02T22:10:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-02T22:17:16.387-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Putting on the Finish</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/TAcenDcvHKI/AAAAAAAAABk/BzoWUaYwuXY/s1600/DSCN3795.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/TAcenDcvHKI/AAAAAAAAABk/BzoWUaYwuXY/s400/DSCN3795.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478381128009063586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/TAcd2bvUKKI/AAAAAAAAABc/tI8rBFOsyZg/s1600/DSCN3792.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/TAcd2bvUKKI/AAAAAAAAABc/tI8rBFOsyZg/s400/DSCN3792.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478380292715849890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are a couple of pictures of the boys painting their tool boxes.  I'm not a fan of painting anything, but they seemed to enjoy it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-4667310531599363353?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/4667310531599363353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=4667310531599363353' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/4667310531599363353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/4667310531599363353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2010/06/putting-on-finish.html' title='Putting on the Finish'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/TAcenDcvHKI/AAAAAAAAABk/BzoWUaYwuXY/s72-c/DSCN3795.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687100993204022763.post-2878619856624745460</id><published>2010-05-30T09:18:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T09:29:15.463-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Good Breakfast</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/TAJ0SL_YBQI/AAAAAAAAABU/gJiCCRbhAE8/s1600/breakfast.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/TAJ0SL_YBQI/AAAAAAAAABU/gJiCCRbhAE8/s400/breakfast.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477067952641017090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breakfast turned out so good this morning that I had to post it.  I'm glad my boys love fruit so much.  And yes I made those french toast sticks myself, they are not from the freezer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-2878619856624745460?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/2878619856624745460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=2878619856624745460' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/2878619856624745460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/2878619856624745460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2010/05/good-breakfast.html' title='A Good Breakfast'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/TAJ0SL_YBQI/AAAAAAAAABU/gJiCCRbhAE8/s72-c/breakfast.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687100993204022763.post-7829259466069311494</id><published>2010-05-29T08:55:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T09:17:12.593-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Home Depot Kids Workshop</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/TAJv5Q3CsTI/AAAAAAAAABE/wesiVY5qCYE/s1600/homedepot.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/TAJv5Q3CsTI/AAAAAAAAABE/wesiVY5qCYE/s400/homedepot.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477063126405001522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is a photo of my guy's all geared up for the kids workshop at the home depot.  There would have been more pictures of them building their projects if the Home Depot kids workshop had actually been this Saturday.  We walked in the store with them all decked out in their aprons and the lady at the door said oooooh, the kids workshop is the first Saturday of the month.  I knew this, but for some reason I was thinking it was already June.  I saw my son's face start to turn sad and figured I better think fast since I had blundered big time and I said "Hey, that's no problem, we'll get the stuff we need to finish building our tool boxes and go home and build those.  Then he smiled and said yeaah, and the little one joined along in being happy.  It could have turned out to be a pretty sad day, but instead we ended up having a great time building two of these tool boxes for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/TAJyicNoDnI/AAAAAAAAABM/-Tn_BN-8Uu8/s1600/toolbox.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/TAJyicNoDnI/AAAAAAAAABM/-Tn_BN-8Uu8/s400/toolbox.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477066032850407026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-7829259466069311494?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/7829259466069311494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=7829259466069311494' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/7829259466069311494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/7829259466069311494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2010/05/home-depot-kids-workshop.html' title='Home Depot Kids Workshop'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/TAJv5Q3CsTI/AAAAAAAAABE/wesiVY5qCYE/s72-c/homedepot.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687100993204022763.post-4578954953597878313</id><published>2010-03-06T06:39:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-06T06:50:38.171-06:00</updated><title type='text'>We want Prenup</title><content type='html'>I was in the car with the boys last night listening to Goldigger (relax it's the Glee version so it's clean) and Carson was in the back with his mean muggin' face on bobbing his head up and down.  Then he starting singing really loud "She give me money, When I'm in need".  The funniest part by far was hearing him yell "We want prenup, YEAH!".  Nathan was actually doing some of the background sounds, but I couldn't say exactly which ones.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-4578954953597878313?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/4578954953597878313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=4578954953597878313' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/4578954953597878313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/4578954953597878313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2010/03/we-want-prenup.html' title='We want Prenup'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-856737343010809972</id><published>2010-02-20T07:17:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T07:22:51.146-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Morning Daddy</title><content type='html'>My youngest was the first to wake up this morning.  I asked if he would come lay down with me since everyone else was still sleeping.  He said "yes I lay down and cuddle daddy."  I laid down with him and he wouldn't put his head down.  He just sat up looking at me for a minute or two and then said "You suppose to get up and get me food."  I laughed and got up and made pancakes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-856737343010809972?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/856737343010809972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=856737343010809972' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/856737343010809972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/856737343010809972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2010/02/good-morning-daddy.html' title='Good Morning Daddy'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-3703640280425635134</id><published>2010-02-14T15:56:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-14T16:02:30.549-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh yeah, I have a blog</title><content type='html'>I think I honestly almost forgot about this thing.  I'll be posting some more here soon.  I update this even less than my facebook.  About the only new news I have is that I have started playing the harmonica.  I'll put up links to my first two recordings here.  Hopefully as I go they will get better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fordefi.com/1strecordingever.wav"&gt;1st Recording ever&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fordefi.com/firsttuckaticka.wav"&gt;First Tucka Ticka (Train Rhythm)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-3703640280425635134?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/3703640280425635134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=3703640280425635134' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/3703640280425635134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/3703640280425635134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2010/02/oh-yeah-i-have-blog.html' title='Oh yeah, I have a blog'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-2297146648150945279</id><published>2009-11-07T05:15:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-07T05:25:54.526-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What in the Box</title><content type='html'>I picked up food from Jack in the Box last night.  I ordered a chicken biscuit combo.  When I got home I found a large hexagon shaped box at the bottom of my bag.  In the box was some giant cheeseburger with bacon, lettuce, tomato, and pickles.  So for dinner I had Orange Juice, hash browns, and a cheeseburger.  It was an odd combo.  The strangest thing is that for my wife I got an ultimate cheeseburger combo, substitute curly fries, substitute sourdough bread for the bun and the sandwich plain.  This they got absolutely right, but for the order of a chicken biscuit combo just the way the make it, not so right.  After reviewing the menu it looks like I wound up with the sirloin cheeseburger without the peppercorn sauce of the onions.  I would like to say this burger was not as good as their cheaper burgers.  It was okay, but it is nothing I would ever order again, actually make that never order since I never ordered it in the first place.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-2297146648150945279?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/2297146648150945279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=2297146648150945279' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/2297146648150945279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/2297146648150945279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/11/what-in-box.html' title='What in the Box'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-5083772277531473615</id><published>2009-09-12T22:03:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T22:09:36.913-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Glad you asked</title><content type='html'>My two sons were in a rented stroller at the mall.  The older one said "Excuse me dad, can I eat this?"  I looked down at him and saw that he was holding a small piece of cookie.  I asked where he got it and he put it back down on the floor of the stroller and said I found it down here.  I quickly told him to put it back down.  I was very glad that he asked rather than just eating it.  Hopefully he didn't eat any before he asked.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-5083772277531473615?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/5083772277531473615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=5083772277531473615' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/5083772277531473615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/5083772277531473615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/09/glad-you-asked.html' title='Glad you asked'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-3441077622421847850</id><published>2009-08-01T20:05:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T20:14:46.260-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What a nap</title><content type='html'>Today the kids both took good naps.  Carson actually slept until 7:10, which is both good and bad since his usual bedtime is 8:00.  He gets to stay up a little late tonight.  I even got to take a nap while they were napping I fell asleep on the couch and I guess I was asleep for around an hour.  I woke up feeling pretty good.  While Carson was sleeping I took Nathan with me to get Pizza. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier the boys and I went to a car show in town.  It rained a lot earlier in the day and I didn't expect much, but it was a really good turnout.  We saw lots of cars and shared some ice cream.  I didn't take the camera so I don't have any pictures for this post. I'm sure there will be more car shows in our future.  I look forward to taking them to a race someday, but it will have to wait until they are no longer afraid of noise.  Judging from their naps I must have successfully tired them out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-3441077622421847850?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/3441077622421847850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=3441077622421847850' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/3441077622421847850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/3441077622421847850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/08/what-nap.html' title='What a nap'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-1170926778393105419</id><published>2009-07-08T20:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T20:46:44.149-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wisdom</title><content type='html'>Some say a wise man learns from his mistakes, but I prefer the saying that a smart man learns from his mistakes, but a wise man learns from the mistakes of others.  This is not an orginal quote, but I'm not sure who to credit it to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all I have today.  Admittedly not very corny.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-1170926778393105419?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/1170926778393105419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=1170926778393105419' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/1170926778393105419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/1170926778393105419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/07/wisdom.html' title='Wisdom'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-6128513581025859608</id><published>2009-06-25T21:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T22:00:14.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Singing songs with Daddy</title><content type='html'>&lt;h3 class='post-title entry-title'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the part where Daddy comes out and sings a silly song.&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made up a new song for Nathan today about his Penguin.  It is to the tune of "Five Huge Hippos Hopping on a Hill".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh little penguin you are a flightless bird,&lt;br /&gt;Oh little penguin tell me have you heard,&lt;br /&gt;Oh little penguin you live where it it cold,&lt;br /&gt;Oh little penguin that Nathan loves to hold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He kept saying again until I was literally out of breath.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-6128513581025859608?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/6128513581025859608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=6128513581025859608' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/6128513581025859608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/6128513581025859608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/06/singing-songs-with-daddy.html' title='Singing songs with Daddy'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-6601018292880369703</id><published>2009-06-20T19:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T20:26:48.539-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The facilities are conveniently located</title><content type='html'>Today we were at a Birthday pool party for one of my son's cousins.  He wouldn't swim much at all because he wasn't very comfortable with the big pool and all of the kids in it.  After a while quite a few people had left and it was getting calmer.  He said he needed to use the bathroom.  His aunt asked his uncle to show him where the boys "outdoor potty" was.  His uncle Mike led him to a spot in the yard and walked away to give him some privacy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A short while later he walks up to me with his pants down around his ankles and says "I poopied daddy".  I asked "you poopied?", and he replied yes.  I asked him to show me where he poopied and he led me right to the spot on the grass where his poop was lying under a nice sized swarm of flies.  I guess we should have been more clear about what the outdoor potty was for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew there would be lots of cleaning up poop when I had kids, but I didn't know I would be scooping it out of my brother and sister-in-laws yard at a party.  It's amazing that a kid who isn't comfortable swimming in a pool with a bunch of noisy kids doesn't mind dropping his pants and pooping in the yard with them.  The most impressive part was that he didn't get anything on him.  Apparently there is something to be said for instinct.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-6601018292880369703?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/6601018292880369703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=6601018292880369703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/6601018292880369703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/6601018292880369703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/06/facilities-are-conveniently-located.html' title='The facilities are conveniently located'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-2641246887385148589</id><published>2009-06-11T20:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T21:03:39.954-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Let me be your hero</title><content type='html'>I love how easy it is to be a hero as a husband and a father.  I don't have to save the world or cure some disease, I just have to smash the occasional spider or pick them up when a large dog approaches. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My most recent heroic event occurred when my youngest decided to drop his stuffed penguin out the car window.  I turned the car around and parked in the McDonald's parking lot.  I ran through the very large ditch as I watched the poor penguin roll around from the wind from the passing cars.  Once I got up the other side of the ditch I had an opening in traffic and I dashed out and grabbed the penguin and ran back to the car.  Penguin was saved.  I then informed the boys to never ask to have the windows down again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-2641246887385148589?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/2641246887385148589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=2641246887385148589' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/2641246887385148589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/2641246887385148589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/06/let-me-be-your-hero.html' title='Let me be your hero'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-317995146866329104</id><published>2009-05-17T21:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T21:53:15.098-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It worked!</title><content type='html'>I had always heard that if your headlights have that yellow haze on them you could polish it off with tooth paste.  I was told that gel wouldn't work and it had to be the regular tooth paste.  Today I washed and waxed the car and figured I'd try to fix the headlight haze.  I only had gel but I figured it couldn't hurt anything.  I have to say that if regular tooth paste works better than the gel that wasn't supposed to work then the regular stuff must be unbelievable because my headlights look almost like new now.  Not only are they very clear they also smell minty fresh :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-317995146866329104?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/317995146866329104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=317995146866329104' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/317995146866329104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/317995146866329104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/05/it-worked.html' title='It worked!'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-374297717166639969</id><published>2009-05-03T20:41:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T20:55:16.033-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love Having Boys</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/Sf5IJ65z40I/AAAAAAAAAA0/t-xyMS1TFhw/s1600-h/DSCN0990.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/Sf5IJ65z40I/AAAAAAAAAA0/t-xyMS1TFhw/s400/DSCN0990.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331778344121000770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I know I could do all of the same things if I had girls, but then I would probably get static from some people for making them tomboys. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it isn't obvious this is a picture of my almost four year old son helping me sand a board for a shelf to go above the TV in the basement.  The focused look on his face is just perfect. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days later on the day after his fourth birthday he helped me jack up the car to change the oil and the fuel filter.  He could work the jack all by himself.  He is four years old and he already lifted a car.  He even looked at the jack while he was using it and said "Daddy this is a lever, a lever is a simple machine."  He's absolutely awesome. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I taught him all about safety and how important it is to put new oil in the car.  I also told him how important it was to put your tools away when you are done, but I didn't learn that until I was about 25, so I am not holding out hope that this lesson will stick for some time, but I have plenty of time to teach it to him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-374297717166639969?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/374297717166639969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=374297717166639969' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/374297717166639969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/374297717166639969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-love-having-boys.html' title='I Love Having Boys'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/Sf5IJ65z40I/AAAAAAAAAA0/t-xyMS1TFhw/s72-c/DSCN0990.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687100993204022763.post-1361109077423960528</id><published>2009-04-25T10:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T10:30:28.038-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Been a While</title><content type='html'>I haven't blogged in a while, so I thought I would talk about why.  It's because 90% of the things I think to blog about get forgotten.  I have a very bad case of CRS.  If you don't know, that stands for Can't Remember Stuff or something like that.  I am going to start trying to have a picture for everything I think of to blog about.  This should help spark my memory.  I'll dust off the old digital camera and keep it with me.  Any good photographer should always have a camera with them anyway.  I'm not really insinuating that I am a good photographer, but if I don't have a camera with me my chances decrease dramatically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The main reason for my affliction is that with the exception of maybe ten nights I don't think I have slept more than 5 consecutive hours in about 2 or three years.  I am one of those people that really needs 7 or 8 hours a night.  They say lack of sleep is cumulative and you never make up for it unless you sleep those missing hours.  So I'll be conservative and say I need 7 hours of sleep a night and I get 5.5.  We'll also limit it to a 2 year period or 730 days.  That means I am down 1,095 hours of sleep, so if I could just sleep for 45.625 days I would be all caught up.  Oh, wait I forgot to add in the 7 hours of sleep I would have gotten anyway for the 45 days of sleep I am catching up on.  Can you miss sleep while sleeping?  The math is starting to hurt now.  Okay a train leaves Seattle at 6:00 am traveling 65 MPH . . . &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One monday after some of those three day weekends I had I was pretty well rested.  I know I slept at least 7 hours straight on the Sunday night before.  When I got to work I felt as though I had super human abilities.  Solutions were clearer, I remebered things that were told to me, I was able to sit at my desk without having that 2:00 am and I've driven all night head snapping motion I sometimes get.  It was a very productive day.  I'm not saying there aren't days that going through a work day in a haze has advantages, but clarity is a good feeling when you can get it.  I imagine many parents can relate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-1361109077423960528?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/1361109077423960528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=1361109077423960528' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/1361109077423960528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/1361109077423960528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/04/its-been-while.html' title='It&apos;s Been a While'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-8671534965707355534</id><published>2009-03-28T21:21:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T21:32:58.829-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Changing the World</title><content type='html'>I watched Evan Almighty tonight.  I must say it was a really good movie.  It was funny and it had a good message.  Now here I go getting mushy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone always thinks of changing the world in such a large way.  It was nice to stop and think that letting some one over in traffic, holding a door for some one, or spending time building a better relationship with your family are all ways to change the world.  I think the fact we have this mindset that changing the world requires a lot of effort keeps many people from trying.  I also think that we sometimes forget that millions of people doing something small can accomplish the same thing as a few people doing something large.  So I'm going to try this week to think of something nice I can do to help some one else and do it.  Let's all give it a try.  If you'd like you can share the ideas you come up with in the comments section.  I figure the comments section might as well be used for something. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let the Acts of Random Kindness begin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-8671534965707355534?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/8671534965707355534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=8671534965707355534' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/8671534965707355534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/8671534965707355534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/03/changing-world.html' title='Changing the World'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-3719456860917044356</id><published>2009-03-13T15:30:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T21:31:48.224-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What to Expect when you don't want to be Expecting</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/Sb8Kbt4wx5I/AAAAAAAAAAs/hwjhQjur3as/s1600-h/caution.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 395px; height: 229px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/Sb8Kbt4wx5I/AAAAAAAAAAs/hwjhQjur3as/s400/caution.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313977556610893714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If any of you have read my wife's blog you know carrying babies is quite an ordeal for her.  We talked it over and decided that a vasectomy was the best route for both of us.  Since I am down to a 4 day week now it seemed like setting up an appointment for a Friday was a good idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The scariest part of the whole experience came the night before the procedure.  Before going I had to shave the area where the incisions would be made.  I must say my amateur self down there with a razor scared me far more than a trained professional down there with a scalpel.  It also took me about 3 times as long to accomplish this task as it took the doctor to accomplish the vasectomy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The morning of the procedure I got up and made breakfast for my two sons.  This is something I usually do on "Daddy Days" which is what we call all the days I don't work.  I figured I wouldn't be able to do this for them the next day so I wanted to make sure I did it for them that morning.  They had no knowledge of why I was going to the doctor, but they were being very sweet and funny.  Looking at them at the table eating their muffins and smiling I realized that I was totally okay with this decision.  They are more than I could ever have hoped for and are far more wonderful than I could possibly deserve.  I love my boys very much and I know that they love me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to have a driver for this procedure because they give you Valium before the procedure.  Any time you are offered Valium take it. I'll elaborate on that later.  We were unable to find a baby sitter, so the whole family got to go along with me for my appointment. Carson kept saying he wanted to go in with me and I kept assuring him he did not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got to the office to sign in was the first time I realized that it was Friday the 13th.  I am not a superstitious person, but for this it still made me cringe for a second.  When the doctor first came in I asked him if his first name was Jason.  He said no and asked why.  I told him I was just joking because it was Friday the 13th.  He said he had not realized that and maybe that was why they had so many people chicken out today.  I still can't believe I unknowingly scheduled my vasectomy for Friday the 13th.  I guess next time I fly I'll purchase a ticket for flight 5050.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The actual procedure was really not bad at all.  Of course there was that previously mentioned Valium that I'm sure helped.  I don't know if all doctors take this first step, but again if you are considering this I suggest looking for one that does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After everything was complete they brought my wife in for the after care instructions.  They could tell I was a little out of it.  I was making jokes that I don't remember that may or may not have been funny and may or may not have been appropriate.  I do remember picking up the little model of the male inner workings and pointing to the vas and saying to the nurse "hey this guys been snipped hasn't he?"  As it turns out I was right about the model and I could tell that the nurse was very impressed by my medical knowledge, or maybe she wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife also told me the nurse commented that I had quite a lot of volume remaining that would have to be cleared.  Now if you let a man know that anything positive was mentioned about anything to do with his "maleness" and size or in this case volume you are opening a door that is likely best left closed.  This is especially compounded when for lack of a better term that man is high on something.  I can't remember exactly what I said but I do remember being very proud and having my wife clarify what was said a few different times.  I guess maybe I am still young and dumb.  If you get that reference you are laughing right now.  If you don't get it I won't explain it here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you get home from one of these you have to ice the area for the first twelve hours.  This is about as much fun as it sounds.  I waited as long as I possibly could before going to the bathroom for the first time.  I really didn't want to see it.  I finally couldn't wait any longer, and I have to say their had been quite a bit of bleeding.  This prompted a call to the doctor and I was assured that everything was normal.  Now we are just down to the waiting and testing.  Hopefully I pass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If any of you still are wondering about the procedure the doctor allowed me to video it.  I was curious about what it actually looked like being performed, but I knew I didn't want to watch it live.  It is from a tripod so it is not the best quality, but I really didn't want to invite a videographer into the room. Now I will caution you that there is blood and nudity involved so if you aren't up for something graphic don't click the video link.  I went ahead and hosted it on my own website because I wasn't sure it would be okay with the blogger terms of use.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fordefi.com/vasectomyvideo.php"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Video of My Vasectomy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-3719456860917044356?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/3719456860917044356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=3719456860917044356' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/3719456860917044356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/3719456860917044356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/03/caution-way-too-much-information-ahead.html' title='What to Expect when you don&apos;t want to be Expecting'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/Sb8Kbt4wx5I/AAAAAAAAAAs/hwjhQjur3as/s72-c/caution.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687100993204022763.post-8336017129697430705</id><published>2009-03-10T20:49:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T21:13:27.604-05:00</updated><title type='text'>More Carson Sayings</title><content type='html'>Last week I had a cold and I had some of the biggest sneezes I have ever had.  Carson looked at me and laughed and said "Dad you sound just like Snot Rod". Now if you have a child of almost any age you will get that reference.  If you don't, Snot Rod is the bad car from the movie Cars that sneezes and shoots fire out of his exhaust.  I think it it supposed to be some sort of Chrysler product.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is also learning to use the potty which is currently not going so well.  He was obviously needing to go and his mom said for him to try and use the potty.  She found he had already gone in his pants and said how are we going to try the potty when you already went.  He said "We'll I guess we'll have to scrub the mission."  Unfortunately more than the mission had to be scrubbed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-8336017129697430705?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/8336017129697430705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=8336017129697430705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/8336017129697430705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/8336017129697430705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/03/more-carson-sayings.html' title='More Carson Sayings'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-3195715884799314301</id><published>2009-03-01T21:28:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T21:45:26.337-06:00</updated><title type='text'>You Can't Say I Wasn't WarnedApparently it was not a Happy BirthdayRead it and Weep</title><content type='html'>I couldn't decide on a title for this one so I gave it three.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/SatV6kp1SfI/AAAAAAAAAAk/LEGeC-svwSg/s1600-h/HB+note+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/SatV6kp1SfI/AAAAAAAAAAk/LEGeC-svwSg/s400/HB+note+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308431050546170354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came home from work on my wife's birthday and found this note on the door.  I read it a few times.  I guess I was looking for some hidden secret code in it or something but it appeared to be completely straightforward.  I pondered, does she really want me to go away, or just want to make sure I go in with my eyes open.  When I saw her I said I guess wishing you a happy birthday is a little useless at this point.  She was already much better, because the kids were napping.  The rest of the day did get better, and we had a good laugh from the note.  Now both of my readers can have a good laugh to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-3195715884799314301?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/3195715884799314301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=3195715884799314301' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/3195715884799314301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/3195715884799314301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/03/you-cant-say-i-wasnt-warned-apparently.html' title='You Can&apos;t Say I Wasn&apos;t Warned&lt;br /&gt;Apparently it was not a Happy Birthday&lt;br /&gt;Read it and Weep'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/SatV6kp1SfI/AAAAAAAAAAk/LEGeC-svwSg/s72-c/HB+note+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687100993204022763.post-4202878512693641291</id><published>2009-02-27T06:39:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T06:54:10.563-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Singing my Praises - Literally</title><content type='html'>Since I currently have an "economic sabbatical" every Friday  I have been doing more breakfast cooking for the kids.  I enjoy cooking breakfast.  I think it is the most fun meal of the day as it is the most likely to involve syrup.  However, I never expected to have a cheering section for it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Friday I was making french toast.  The kids were already eating and I was making more.  As I stood there at my griddle I hear Carson singing "My Daddy is super cool, he makes the best French Toast.  I love my Daddy, he makes the best French Toast."   This gave me quite the Bill Cosby flashback that some of you may remember "Dad is great, he give us the chocolate cake."  Now I have another reason that breakfast is fun.  Maybe next week we'll have chocolate cake for breakfast and I'll teach him that Bill Cosby song.  I bet I could get my wife to make that face he talks about :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-4202878512693641291?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/4202878512693641291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=4202878512693641291' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/4202878512693641291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/4202878512693641291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/02/singing-my-praises-literally.html' title='Singing my Praises - Literally'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-7630744052626906116</id><published>2009-02-20T22:40:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T22:45:19.141-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Definitely Not a Yes Man</title><content type='html'>Nathan is at the age where his favorite word is No.  Everything is no.  Yesterday he was sitting beside me and he was going through a no spell for every question I asked.  I said you're just a No machine aren't you, and he replied "No, No, No, No."  So I guess he's not a no machine after all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-7630744052626906116?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/7630744052626906116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=7630744052626906116' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/7630744052626906116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/7630744052626906116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/02/definitely-not-yes-man.html' title='Definitely Not a Yes Man'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-5141881301314773349</id><published>2009-02-07T20:56:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T21:07:36.162-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Like we Taught Him</title><content type='html'>Due to my recent cut in work hours we haven't been out to eat for quite a while.  Tonight we were out and it was already after dinner time.  We decided that since kids eat free at Denny's on Saturday nights right now that we would go ahead and eat a meal out.  Both of the kids got french toast.  Carson ate all of his and asked if he could have another slice of french toast.  He isn't usually a good eater so we were glad he wanted more.  The waitress brought his french toast and said be careful it's still hot.  Carson breathed in deep and blew on it to make sure it was cooled off.  We'll if you have ever had Denny's Fabulous French Toast you know it is dusted with a healthy coat of powdered sugar.  We had quite a good laugh as the cloud of powdered sugar smoked out our table.  The laughter spread to at least one other booth that noticed the cloud and figured out what had happened.  Carson really didn't even seem to notice anything happened so I am betting we can count on a repeat performance if he gets a hot piece of french toast again.  Maybe we should have the video camera ready just in case.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-5141881301314773349?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/5141881301314773349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=5141881301314773349' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/5141881301314773349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/5141881301314773349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/02/just-like-we-taught-him.html' title='Just Like we Taught Him'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-3624310097440324484</id><published>2009-01-30T21:07:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-30T21:19:52.385-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't miss dealing with the public</title><content type='html'>I once worked at Advance Auto Parts and though there are many stories from those days of dealing with the public most of them have faded.  The best one I ever saw there is still very clear in my mind.  We were all at the counter and it was fairly slow.  There was one customer checking out and one guy on the phone.  The manager and I were standing side by side discussing some matter of business.  We suddenly turned toward the door when we heard a noise so loud we thought some had broken the door off it's hinges.  A customer was coming straight toward the manager with a battery.  He slammed it down on the counter so hard that I thought I saw the catalog rack bounce.  He exclaimed very loudly that this d*mn battery was a piece of sh*t and wanted to know what the h*ll we were going to do about it.  The manager was standing there with his hands in his pockets.  He calmly rocked back and then forward on his feet and looked down at the battery and said "Well buddy I aint gonna do nothing about it, but if you take it back to Autozone where you bought it they might help you out."  At this point everyone in the place was almost rolling on the floor laughing.  The guy backed away from the counter and said "what, what, where am I." We let him know he was in Advance Auto Parts and he left without another word. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moral of the story is if you are going to show your *ss make sure you are at least aiming it at the right people.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-3624310097440324484?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/3624310097440324484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=3624310097440324484' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/3624310097440324484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/3624310097440324484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-dont-miss-dealing-with-public.html' title='I don&apos;t miss dealing with the public'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-6576801686112447628</id><published>2009-01-26T20:47:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T21:05:26.285-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Want to feel good about yourself?</title><content type='html'>Watch the Bachelor.  These girls are absolutely crazy.  I don't think they are going to be able to find a guy willing to be the next bachelor.  I read somewhere that they test each potential contestant for STDs and they have to pass to be on the show, which I am sure is comforting for the Bachelor, since you get no such assurances out in the real world, but it should concern him that they are obviously skipping the psych tests.  Or they are picking out all of the ones that fail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have to wonder why these girls are single.  They have known this guy for a few days and they talk about how they are going to be married.  They also beg to him to keep them there because he is so special to them.  This guy is going to need 8 or ten restraining orders before this show is over.  I really hope he doesn't own a rabbit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm surprised they can even hear him speak over the ticking of their biological clocks.  Okay, that comment was a little mean, but I'm not the one spreading my desperation all over national TV here.  If it makes you feel any better about my mean spirit one of the eliminated girls just said she was going home to use her electric tooth brush and give her puppy big french kisses.  Can you believe he let that one go!  Oh by the way, she's a dental hygienist.  Hygiene, really you're frenching your dog and you are supposed to be concerned about oral hygiene.  I hope I don't have any nightmares tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-6576801686112447628?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/6576801686112447628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=6576801686112447628' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/6576801686112447628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/6576801686112447628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/01/want-to-feel-good-about-yourself.html' title='Want to feel good about yourself?'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-1728317445846788565</id><published>2009-01-20T20:41:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T20:48:13.097-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Running out</title><content type='html'>It would seem that marketing professionals have run out of things to make women feel self conscious about.  I base this on the proliferation of deodorant commercials that promise to give you gorgeous underarms.  Has any guy ever really nudged his buddy with an elbow and said "check out that girl with the smooth underarms, damn she's hot." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously ladies don't let them get to you.  I don't know any guys that care or ever have cared what your underarms look like (as long as they aren't hairy).  You have other attributes that keep us distracted enough not to notice.  On one final note if you buy into the hype and use these products and get smooth sexy underarms don't get mad if we don't notice.  We still love you, we just aren't looking there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-1728317445846788565?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/1728317445846788565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=1728317445846788565' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/1728317445846788565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/1728317445846788565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/01/running-out.html' title='Running out'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-1510009223982350026</id><published>2009-01-14T21:41:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T21:48:40.111-06:00</updated><title type='text'>In a Hurry to Grow Up.</title><content type='html'>At the breakfast table Carson asked me if I was married.  I said yes, I am married to mommy.  He said he wanted to be married.  I explained to him that he had to be big and go to college and get a job before he could be married.  He replied "I have a job I work with my tools downstairs."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is definitely a recession proof job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-1510009223982350026?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/1510009223982350026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=1510009223982350026' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/1510009223982350026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/1510009223982350026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/01/in-hurry-to-grow-up.html' title='In a Hurry to Grow Up.'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-3034783491133208024</id><published>2009-01-10T23:30:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T23:38:03.366-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How about Proof Listening?</title><content type='html'>While driving home from work I heard a commercial on the radio that went like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Men, lets be honest, do you go more frequently than normal. (I think No) Is your sex drive declining. (I think certainly not)  Do you wake up to urinate?" (I think Absolutely and laugh hysterically)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean wouldn't it be a much greater problem if I didn't wake up to pee?  I'm thinking I don't want their medicine.  I'd rather wake up first.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-3034783491133208024?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/3034783491133208024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=3034783491133208024' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/3034783491133208024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/3034783491133208024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2009/01/how-about-proof-listening.html' title='How about Proof Listening?'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-7183361017213476405</id><published>2008-12-28T16:24:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T16:52:43.585-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spaghetti'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>Silent Sunday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/SVf_9bOVS3I/AAAAAAAAAAc/cNPKTaW8Uzg/s1600-h/DSC04044.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/SVf_9bOVS3I/AAAAAAAAAAc/cNPKTaW8Uzg/s400/DSC04044.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284974118487542642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;h3 class='post-title entry-title'&gt;We'll almost silent Sunday.&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;If you give a man a fish you feed him for a day.  If you teach a man to fish you feed him for a lifetime.  If you give a toddler a bowl of spaghetti he'll make a nifty hat.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Also, you have to click on the picture for the larger view to truly appreciate the mess he made.  Spaghetti, makes any night bath night.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-7183361017213476405?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/7183361017213476405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=7183361017213476405' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/7183361017213476405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/7183361017213476405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2008/12/silent-sunday.html' title='Silent Sunday'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/SVf_9bOVS3I/AAAAAAAAAAc/cNPKTaW8Uzg/s72-c/DSC04044.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687100993204022763.post-3082581535933775339</id><published>2008-12-23T09:56:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T10:01:12.116-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Darndest Things</title><content type='html'>I was holding my 3 year old and I said "I love you Carson Gregory" and he quizzically said "But I'm not in trouble, you called me Carson Gregory?" I wonder why it is so universal that we call our kids by more than one name when they are in trouble.  Maybe it's because we can't add the extra words we may feel like adding to what we are saying so we settle for an extra name.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-3082581535933775339?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/3082581535933775339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=3082581535933775339' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/3082581535933775339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/3082581535933775339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2008/12/darndest-things.html' title='The Darndest Things'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-1115835882411514831</id><published>2008-12-14T10:05:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T10:14:46.162-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Playing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids'/><title type='text'>He has Been Listening to his Mother</title><content type='html'>I have two boys.  One is three and and half years and the other one is 18 months.  This morning we were in the basement playing "Dog Pile" where everyone basically jumps on each other and rolls all over.  After a while the two little ones bumped heads.  I apologized and let them know that it was my fault.  The older one then stood up and said "I think this game is a little too dangerous, let's play something else for a while".  It was like he was channeling his mother.  Now the older one is playing Buzz Lightyear and the little one has the toy vacuum.  The reality is that even if we were playing sit still in a padded room some one would still find a way to get hurt eventually.  The moral of this story is the game isn't over until you can't stand the pain anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have fun, get hurt, play something else.  Repeat until bedtime.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-1115835882411514831?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/1115835882411514831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=1115835882411514831' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/1115835882411514831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/1115835882411514831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2008/12/he-has-been-listening-to-his-mother.html' title='He has Been Listening to his Mother'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-5313411828204110374</id><published>2008-12-10T21:58:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T22:02:42.116-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Penis Talk</title><content type='html'>Long ago when my child (now three years old) asked "what's that" we decided to not use any euphemisms so we told him that was his penis.  He didn't say anything else about it for a while, but lately he talks about his penis a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was changing his diaper he starts "Daddy, is that my Penis?" Yes.  "Daddy, do I have poop on my Penis? Yes.  "Daddy, are you going to wipe my penis?" Yes. "Daddy, do you have a penis?" Yes.  "Daddy you're a Penis".  I was a little stunned.  What exactly should you say when your son calls you a penis.  I knew my first response was not appropriate because laughing hysterically would probably not prevent him from calling anyone a penis in the future.  So I held the laughter in for a while and told him it was not nice to call people penises.  Once I got him off the changing table I went in the other room, shut the door, and laughed it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He also likes to point out to his mother that he has a penis and baby has a penis and daddy has a penis, but she does not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3 class='post-title entry-title'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Part two, why I don't change my son's diapers in public anymore.&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son does not like to have his diaper changed, and is sometimes quite uncooperative about it.  I was in a family restroom at the mall changing his diaper and when I started to wipe him he got all upset and started saying things like: "Don't wipe my Penis, I don't won't you to touch my Penis, You're hurting me."  Then he was squirming so much I thought he was going to fall off of the table so I put on hand on his stomach and he starts saying "Let me go, Let me go, get your hand off of me, don't wipe my penis".  By this time I am looking around to see if anyone is in the changing area.  I then realized that looking all around might make me look guilty of something.  Fourtunately no one happened along to question me.  From here on I have done all I can to avoid changing him in public.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-5313411828204110374?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/5313411828204110374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=5313411828204110374' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/5313411828204110374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/5313411828204110374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2008/12/penis-talk.html' title='Penis Talk'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-7184961634870147331</id><published>2008-11-30T07:10:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T07:16:24.444-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Joke from an unknown source</title><content type='html'>I got this joke in an email from a friend.  It definitely deserves to be shared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had ambitions of finding a simple, uncomplicated part-time job after finally retiring from my 'day job' after all of those years. So after landing my new job as a Walmart greeter, a good find for many retirees, I lasted less than a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About two hours into my first day on the job a very loud, unattractive, mean-acting woman walked into the store with her two kids, yelling obscenities at them all the way through the entrance. As I had been so instructed, I said pleasantly, 'Good morning, and welcome to Wal-Mart. Nice children you have there. Are they twins?' The ugly woman stopped yelling at the kids long enough to say, 'Hell no, they ain't twins. The oldest one's 9, and the other one's 7. Why the hell would you think they're twins? Are you blind, or just plain ass stupid?' So I politely replied, 'I'm neither blind nor stupid, Ma'am; I just couldn't believe you actually got laid twice! Have a good day and thank you for shopping at Wal-Mart.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My supervisor said I probably wasn't cut out for this line of work.......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-7184961634870147331?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/7184961634870147331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=7184961634870147331' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/7184961634870147331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/7184961634870147331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2008/11/joke-from-unknown-source.html' title='Joke from an unknown source'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-8252196654401027400</id><published>2008-11-29T22:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-29T22:33:18.784-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'd make a Lousy Cult Leader</title><content type='html'>Because I have Zero Followers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-8252196654401027400?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/8252196654401027400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=8252196654401027400' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/8252196654401027400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/8252196654401027400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2008/11/id-make-lousy-cult-leader.html' title='I&apos;d make a Lousy Cult Leader'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-8672634872434204296</id><published>2008-11-23T14:57:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T15:08:47.665-06:00</updated><title type='text'>This is sad</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/SSnFe3iRSRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/txzeAlaVaJY/s1600-h/capphoto.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/SSnFe3iRSRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/txzeAlaVaJY/s320/capphoto.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271961972908312850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm not sure I need to say much about this.  It's funny and sad all at the same time.  I'll post something that's just funny later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-8672634872434204296?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/8672634872434204296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=8672634872434204296' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/8672634872434204296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/8672634872434204296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2008/11/this-is-sad.html' title='This is sad'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NCv-cjNoSnI/SSnFe3iRSRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/txzeAlaVaJY/s72-c/capphoto.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687100993204022763.post-2156916196797404636</id><published>2008-11-21T21:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T21:44:48.549-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I need you to take off your clothes</title><content type='html'>I was a little surprised to hear that phrase from some woman I just met.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, I went for a random drug screening for work today.  I never really believed these things were random before today.  I am unconcerned about the results, because I have been drug free since birth.  This was however quite an experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I arrived and filled out my paperwork.  I knew I would have to pee in a cup, but I had no idea of all the prep work.  I was taken to a room where I was told they needed me to take off my clothes including my underwear and socks and put on a hospital robe.  I was told once I was done with this I was to step out into the hall.  Gee thanks that sounds great. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm out in the hall where I am told to wash my hands.  The whole time I've been stripping, robing, and washing my hands I'm thinking please don't be planning on watching me pee (especially since it was really cold today). I'm not really sure I could pee with some strange woman watching me. Luckily I am still unsure if I would be able to do this because she did not follow me into the restroom.  Thanks again for the barefoot walk in the restroom, can't wait to get home and take a shower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After getting dressed I proceeded to the front desk to complete the paperwork where the woman who took my sample and another woman were sitting .  I saw a cup of pens on the desk and asked if I could have one.  The sampler said yes, and I said "it's only fair after all I gave you something."  The other woman started laughing and the sampler looked at me smiling but confused and asked what.  The other woman then started laughing even harder and said "his pee".  Then they both started laughing and I wished them a good weekend and walked out on a high note.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd be really happy to never be drug tested again.  It wasn't a great experience, but it did make for a good story.  Enjoy and have a good weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-2156916196797404636?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/2156916196797404636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=2156916196797404636' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/2156916196797404636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/2156916196797404636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-need-you-to-take-off-your-clothes.html' title='I need you to take off your clothes'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-7848426155477513814</id><published>2008-11-15T06:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T07:57:59.301-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='breakfast'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='corn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sleeping in'/><title type='text'>Sleeping In</title><content type='html'>Today I slept in.  I realize most people may not consider 6:00 am sleeping in, but for me it is.  I am now watching a Veggie Tales with my oldest son.  Both of my boys are morning people too.  Their mother blames me for their early waking ways.  She may never forgive me for this.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enjoy making breakfast.  Breakfast is great because you can have just about anything.  It may be grilled, fried, baked, coated in sugar or syrup, filled with chocolate chips, etc.  Today it will be blueberry muffins.  Tomorrow pancakes or waffles, or maybe funnel cakes.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now for some stray thoughts (here comes the corn):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always wanted to own a Chinese restaurant and have a personalized license plate that read "NO MSG"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if Tigger owned a topless bar if it would be named "Ta Tas For Now".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I owned a bar I would name it "Patronize Us".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-7848426155477513814?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/7848426155477513814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=7848426155477513814' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/7848426155477513814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/7848426155477513814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2008/11/sleeping-in.html' title='Sleeping In'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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-6687100993204022763.post-1379429248916682711</id><published>2008-11-14T23:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T17:32:38.843-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Why internet corn?</title><content type='html'>There are a few reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;I've always had a corny sense of humor and I will no longer hide it.  I have decided to embrace it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;My sister in law got a google hit on her blog from using the words "Thucking Thursday", so I figure internet corn could really bring in the hits.  Think about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hopefully some one will think something I say is funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;I also hope this will help explain why my wife spends 90% of our time together looking at me like Nipper looks at a phonograph.  For those of you that don't know Nipper is the RCA dog, and a phonograph is an early device for playing records.  For any younger readers a record is a disc shaped device used for generating scratching, popping, and cracking sounds that are sometimes interspersed with music.  Think of it as a giant CD without the sound quality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6687100993204022763-1379429248916682711?l=internetcorn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/feeds/1379429248916682711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6687100993204022763&amp;postID=1379429248916682711' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/1379429248916682711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6687100993204022763/posts/default/1379429248916682711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://internetcorn.blogspot.com/2008/11/why-internet-corn.html' title='Why internet corn?'/><author><name>Cornbread</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07722348027267705516</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></feed>
