<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/" xmlns:blogger="http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Fri, 08 Nov 2024 15:40:35 +0000</lastBuildDate><category>Wisdom</category><category>music</category><category>movies</category><category>words</category><category>sugar</category><category>words spelled &#39;ou&#39;</category><category>anal</category><category>asshole</category><category>baroness</category><category>divorce</category><category>douchebag</category><category>movie review</category><category>pyscho killer</category><category>sludge</category><category>&quot;x&quot; cuz it needs its own label</category><category>2012</category><category>AIDS</category><category>Brain Scientist/Wizard</category><category>Braodway is Gay</category><category>Bro Jesus</category><category>Fruit Roll-up</category><category>Green Day</category><category>HFCS</category><category>HIV</category><category>I WANNA DANCE</category><category>I don&#39;t get it</category><category>India</category><category>Jahweh</category><category>Joke</category><category>Lou Dobbs</category><category>Rastafari (said like it&#39;s supposed to be said)</category><category>Round-mouth</category><category>SOME SHIIIT???</category><category>Sextastic</category><category>Transvestites</category><category>WTF? 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ivy</category><category>poor</category><category>precum</category><category>pretension</category><category>prison</category><category>pussyville</category><category>quick buys</category><category>read motherfuckers read</category><category>recipe</category><category>red bull</category><category>rehab</category><category>relapse</category><category>retching hairwads full of goo</category><category>revisionism</category><category>rock</category><category>sardines</category><category>savannah</category><category>seth rogen and paul rudd double team with james franco as the cherry on top</category><category>sock puppet extravaganza</category><category>southern metal</category><category>spellingmania</category><category>spirits</category><category>stonerhood</category><category>stupid asshole</category><category>stupid stoners stunning other stoners</category><category>sugar babies</category><category>swamp</category><category>sweet</category><category>swingers</category><category>tea in china</category><category>the start</category><category>the white tiger</category><category>tits</category><category>tv</category><category>vaccuum cleaner</category><category>viagra</category><category>wake the fuck up and get out of there bitch</category><category>weed</category><category>which cola would you prefer to choke and die on?</category><category>white trash</category><category>whore</category><category>wife beater</category><category>wrapping</category><category>you got your what pierced???</category><category>yumminess</category><title>Boobie Tassels For Buddha</title><description>Inappropriate Content With a Touch of Zen</description><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>130</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-5252899984384562941</guid><pubDate>Fri, 26 Apr 2013 03:58:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-04-25T23:58:03.430-04:00</atom:updated><title>The Lost Art of Writing Letters</title><atom:summary type="text">It&#39;s been awhile since I&#39;ve posted anything here, but novels pull people away from writing other things. Tonight is an exception though.




My heart is heavy this evening.

&amp;nbsp;If you had told me 6 years ago that I’d be sitting here tonight with tears in my eyes over news of an execution in Texas tonight, I probably would have gone into a fairly long one-sided debate about the need for capital</atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2013/04/the-lost-art-of-writing-letters.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-7156636935321776461</guid><pubDate>Thu, 06 Oct 2011 14:33:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-10-06T10:33:57.813-04:00</atom:updated><title>Chip Off The Old Rocker (repost)</title><atom:summary type="text">My birthday was a few weeks ago. My dad died around that time in 2006, and in fact, his funeral was on my birthday that year. So, of course, he&#39;s been on my mind some. A friend of mine recently lost their father as well, so I decided to share this once again.




When I&#39;m getting to know someone, one of the first questions I ask or perhaps one of the first things I check out on an internet </atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2011/10/chip-off-old-rocker-repost.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><thr:total>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-3489340314155365559</guid><pubDate>Sun, 02 Oct 2011 05:28:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-10-02T01:28:37.818-04:00</atom:updated><title>Why You Can&#39;t Give Up On Love</title><atom:summary type="text">No woman will ever satisfy me. I know that now, and I would never try to deny it. But this is actually okay, because I will never satisfy a woman, either.
This line is from an essay in Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs by Chuck Klosterman. It’s something people almost instantaneously disagree with whenever I bring it up in conversation, but it’s also something so inherently true that it reverberates in</atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2011/10/why-you-cant-give-up-on-love.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-1418082363565810288</guid><pubDate>Sat, 24 Sep 2011 04:02:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-09-24T00:02:09.079-04:00</atom:updated><title>This Is My Generation, Baby</title><atom:summary type="text">Entering the last days of my 20s has caused a bit of reflection on my part over life up to this point. I’ve become nostalgic for the days of my youth and filled my DVD library with cartoons from the 80s and 90s. Nostalgia led to reflection about my peers, and ultimately, &amp;nbsp;I’ve become increasingly interested in the behaviors of these peers and in American culture in general—the drives and </atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2011/09/this-is-my-generation-baby.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/public/3S_stn4VJ5bVzD9Q8Wwaa432ZBWhw1bcsRBUe4X5YzF3JF5gG8jI3uEUkZmw9LptdICMmxdXycOu5C7L32ecCrBLDHID-PiylUUjlExN3hJQH5wDxbEl-UyqGmqfS-x6aU0-cIXgFme1wy2N2_xVKQ=s72-c" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-4617394089918655920</guid><pubDate>Mon, 25 Apr 2011 03:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-04-24T23:09:54.030-04:00</atom:updated><title>The Spirit of Easter</title><atom:summary type="text">Nutosaurus rex: just wanted to say happy easter. you must love today.
me: why would i love today?
nutosaurus rex: your kid and candy
me: stupid holiday
nutosaurus rex: i&#39;m not saying you&#39;re excited about the rising of jesus. just the nerd ropes.
me: i&#39;m on a candy free diet
nutosaurus rex: why? is that why you were snippy towards me?
me: i&#39;ve been off the goods for a couple months
nutosaurus rex:</atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2011/04/spirit-of-easter.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><thr:total>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-458705581999199105</guid><pubDate>Thu, 31 Mar 2011 01:31:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-03-30T21:31:11.158-04:00</atom:updated><title>These Days</title><atom:summary type="text">My windows are rolled partway down while I drive home this evening. The warm, humid air ruffling my bangs hasn’t really affected the heavy aroma of slow-boiled cabbage permeating every inch of air space in my car; I just can’t shake the smell.

I’m on the way home after work. It’s a 45 mile drive. Some people tell me they couldn’t commute so far day in and day out, but I love my time on the road </atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2011/03/these-days.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFlRTqbO9ek4Hsatih2XVGSXhyskirAABG3FVojhyphenhyphen1YyHy8A0fU_EWF__YHt4qeHspYdf5KlCK75SPf3kFA48i1Vju8xZk5rWbUwlF6lofad7vniD4MhFqpXMzJewcm6_qrJAvw7vOg6k/s72-c/black-keys-brothers-300x300.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-5477205856862291449</guid><pubDate>Fri, 04 Feb 2011 05:46:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-02-04T00:46:05.996-05:00</atom:updated><title>Isn&#39;t It Ironic?</title><atom:summary type="text">So I’m standing around at a NOFX concert…

Yeah, I know. I should have thought this through a little better.

Anyway, I’m standing at this concert and I have a total Final Destination moment. This happens due to the summation of several factors.

1. I am on the second floor of a bar/club and I can feel the vibrations of the double bass drum from the band playing on the ground floor.

2. The </atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2011/02/isnt-it-ironic.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-696905516285462328</guid><pubDate>Fri, 07 Jan 2011 04:48:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-01-06T23:48:18.086-05:00</atom:updated><title>Smells Like Sweet Nostalgia</title><atom:summary type="text">A: I am not a gamer. I’ve never even personally seen World of Warcraft. I’d rather let someone shoot me in the arm (in the style of Simon from Go) than really have to dedicate any time whatsoever to video games. Mario does not count.&amp;nbsp;


B: I can’t play an instrument (skin flute excluded). This, now, is a bitter disappointment. I’d like to play bass guitar in the styles of music that bring me</atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2011/01/smells-like-sweet-nostalgia.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjRWl01oqE-pxb0TjkWRmUhTUgii6-R3SdLvK-MbqkuK5vU2YDg7vAexP_A6KgOtpLiU5gedInokASdJrUwVG0JwhASe6-zOYyzrDnxTLJpyWe3WxSe3jJUgpHwvjHhEv4HLLHIR_Y_Ks/s72-c/photo+%25281%2529.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-8293262001039392501</guid><pubDate>Tue, 21 Sep 2010 04:55:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-09-21T00:55:11.406-04:00</atom:updated><title>For Sale: Sofa, Almost New, Very Little Wear</title><atom:summary type="text">You win some; you lose some, she says to herself as she pulls out of the parking garage. There is 2 years worth of office clutter packed into a couple bins in the back of her car. She drives a royal blue Mini Cooper so those couple bins are crammed in tightly. She packed those bins a few hours ago. Today was her last day at work. She was fired only yesterday. It wasn&#39;t really a shock. She&#39;d known</atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2010/09/for-sale-sofa-almost-new-very-little.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-6482235928410976739</guid><pubDate>Thu, 16 Sep 2010 02:45:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-09-15T22:45:38.820-04:00</atom:updated><title>Cooking With Marge</title><atom:summary type="text">&quot;Fix me a chicken pot pie, wouldya? And not that frozen shit. Make one of those with the flaky crust like you do for company sometimes,&quot; he calls from the back bedroom.

&quot;Sure, Frank,&quot; she yells out &amp;nbsp;as she slowly gets up from the couch. Her knees aren&#39;t so good anymore but the extra 50 pounds she kept on after having two kids will do that over time. She turns the television off. They have </atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2010/09/cooking-with-marge.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><thr:total>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-5366253857657450199</guid><pubDate>Mon, 06 Sep 2010 07:51:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-09-06T03:51:50.896-04:00</atom:updated><title>Waxing Philosophical</title><atom:summary type="text">I wish I could say I&#39;ve &quot;tied one on&quot; tonight and that after a long night at the bar, I&#39;ve gone for an omelet at IHOP. Not just any omelet. A Big Steak omelet. That&#39;s the best after you get a little whiskey in you, you know. Instead, I&#39;m making the 40 mile trek because I&#39;m old.I&#39;m not exactly sure when it happened but somewhere between 25 and my soon to be 29, I lost touch for staying up all </atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2010/09/waxing-philosophical.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-5438239528271629098</guid><pubDate>Fri, 03 Sep 2010 00:46:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-09-02T20:46:29.928-04:00</atom:updated><title>Dancin&#39; Days: Soundtrack Revisited</title><atom:summary type="text">Music, as far as I&#39;m concerned, should be just as vital to the people I surround myself with as it is to myself. Which means it is as necessary as oxygen. When I ask someone what sort of music he or she might be into, the last thing I really want to hear is &quot;oh I listen to a little of everything.&quot; No the fuck you don&#39;t. What kind of answer is this? You&#39;re really telling me you haven&#39;t taken the </atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2010/09/dancin-days-soundtrack-revisited.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPgFEPqLXPBj0fRpHiFQ0VxF-iV7VpUC4P6jUByKy6wUsKU9YKqX1_lL97w_R-LjzpZvkXseDRHpyliAS4U_a7ukP6SG7TIsSLEdZNlEEBEEuIo_wZKJyVcMFpXC36A1WvVSpGNeNDAnw/s72-c/07_cyndi_lauper.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-5398472015077669760</guid><pubDate>Sun, 08 Aug 2010 19:22:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-08-08T15:25:23.630-04:00</atom:updated><title>Ellipses</title><atom:summary type="text">Piercing noise invades...dream about wandering amid tall buildings and a soup kitchen and bad smells...reality, blurry as always, creeps in through lidded eyes, partially stuck together...I see perfectly in my dreams, 20/20 vision...I have a small sense of being denied something when I awake from a dream.Shoulder throbs...slept on it wrong again...ignoring it as I push myself up to a sitting </atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2010/08/ellipses.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Philemon)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-2634846902814576131</guid><pubDate>Fri, 06 Aug 2010 03:11:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-08-05T23:16:53.475-04:00</atom:updated><title>It&#39;s Adam &amp; Eve not Adam &amp; Steve, but Amanda &amp; Eve are ok if they&#39;re both hot...</title><atom:summary type="text">Oh, those precocious faggots are at it again! I won&#39;t get into the legal mumbo jumbo, though I could.  It would just make you sleepy.  To sum up; some judicious dude in California overturned the gay marriage ban that was invoked by proposition 8. You can read his entire ruling here: http://jaysays.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/08/decision.pdfYou probably should since it is some of the most </atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2010/08/its-adam-eve-not-adam-steve-but-amanda.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Philemon)</author><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-5091356850205662211</guid><pubDate>Thu, 05 Aug 2010 02:11:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-08-04T22:26:58.008-04:00</atom:updated><title>I Make A Difference!</title><atom:summary type="text">Today, at least in the utterly vanquished acropolis in which I live, is Make A Difference Day.This means that the local newspaper lines the city streets with brightly shirted, and likely unemployed, &quot;volunteers&quot; to sell their rag for an extra 50 cents.  That extra 50 cents goes toward making a difference in the lives of local children.  I can only assume that means taking them from their birth </atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-make-difference.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Philemon)</author><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-4958718102737744786</guid><pubDate>Tue, 03 Aug 2010 05:07:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-08-03T01:11:53.823-04:00</atom:updated><title>She&#39;s Truly Outrageous</title><atom:summary type="text">A long time ago, in a land far, far away called the 80s....


I had a Jem doll.


Poster girl for dissociative personality disorder

Jem was one of those shows created around a line of toys (Hasbro) like GI Joe, The Transformers, and My Little Pony. The basic plot of the show involved Jerrica Benton, the main character, having a &quot;secret&quot; identity as a rockstar. By day, she owned a music company </atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2010/08/long-time-ago-in-land-far-far-away.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIpYk6_HSy72jZvIw_HfwQ3HoNh3Ooipnc_y9K9elekX8W3Bdnh4edbVhmDV7lttvpr-VTXv4AWnoTVNrsaOUYci5iFIeI8gOlApjYHSfNtG7c4R_BRoO7hZvJ7F6Q2s_o2e-zJ7bRiu4/s72-c/The-80-s-the-80s-555555_780_768.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-3738155612638063337</guid><pubDate>Mon, 26 Jul 2010 03:25:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-07-25T23:30:00.881-04:00</atom:updated><title>That One Song</title><atom:summary type="text">I promised this one a long time ago it seems...We all have bands that we feel connected to on another level.  The ones that we have what would be considered a torrid love affair with.  Some we lose touch with and we only have memories.  Some retire from making and playing music and slip into being &quot;classic&quot;.  Some stay with us no matter what and we wait for every new album and buy tickets the </atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2010/07/that-one-song.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Philemon)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-7110607729281308820</guid><pubDate>Tue, 20 Jul 2010 05:19:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-07-20T01:19:38.885-04:00</atom:updated><title>Construction Paper Heart</title><atom:summary type="text">Sitting in that room in a bright blue recliner surrounded by red construction paper hearts with a heating pad pressed desperately and firmly to my lower abdomen and tears drying on my cheeks, I wanted to shout out that I’d been lied to by everyone there. I wanted badly to demand someone take responsibility for being a dirty, lying scumbag. I did not, however, utter a word. I kept my mouth shut </atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2010/07/construction-paper-heart.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><thr:total>6</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-2205932422487332430</guid><pubDate>Sat, 17 Jul 2010 07:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-07-17T03:05:15.440-04:00</atom:updated><title>Baroness Versus Rush: Beards and Undescended Testicles</title><atom:summary type="text">Not too long ago, I came across a contest on an e-zine, Chronic Youth, to win a signed Baroness concert poster. For those of you that don&#39;t know, Baroness is a sludge/doom/stoner/undefinable band from Savannah, Georgia that has been making a lot of press in the metal scene since the release of their second full album release, Blue Record. I happen to really enjoy Baroness and this particular </atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2010/07/baroness-versus-rush-beards-and.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKF9Rrx8Yyb1hqSI9ll51d23t3z3mbhcMm7KybVsY1sDVjEqMoDuJedP-ramUraDQRZWPQkdoOEOvhyn47qBNxdCUKhYXo0fy2zO2Sw8UZHepJZUnmxr3luU9xboNRSbcMN05w8IJpWRQ/s72-c/sickpostersicksite.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-1457823719227621946</guid><pubDate>Sun, 11 Jul 2010 09:32:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-07-11T05:32:34.943-04:00</atom:updated><title>John vs John or Why I&#39;m Destined to be a Cat Lady</title><atom:summary type="text">In his rather hilarious compilation of essays Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs, Chuck Klosterman said he’d likely never be able to fully satisfy a woman, nor, in turn, would any woman be able to satisfy him. The reason? John Cusack.

“It appears that countless women born between the years of 1965 and 1978 are in love with John Cusack. I cannot fathom how he isn’t the number-one box-office star in </atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2010/07/john-vs-john-or-why-im-destined-to-be.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiREsKrhLAqF07dpIldekKVMn4LiwcHMFKVeVhWsrNOUQ1ZAtE6kcHdeqrlENCQH_OF5ipt8WzVzXinz4dQzydDtQe8l6XRKZnoPW4Sh6PLFz-2YK_YX3duNerlMKQt63anbO23lPZ_JR0/s72-c/865650_com_sexdrugsan.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-774858006625472576</guid><pubDate>Sun, 11 Jul 2010 07:39:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-07-11T03:39:27.020-04:00</atom:updated><title>Psychopath Achievement</title><atom:summary type="text">
I read an article not too long ago about the ways in which the video game Red Dead Redemption shows how the Wild West and the game’s creators are women haters. Red Dead Redemption, if you’re clueless, is an open world game set in 1911 near the America/Mexico border in some fictional area. By open world, I mean you cover a vast expanse of game area which you can explore at will and your </atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2010/07/psychopath-achievement.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuLIWf3s9JfKt8n942EmB1MWka5ZYqBE6U1yUq8APWwdR-yj4ZsF_zRDm0ecBChI7XhWhNh0w9q1dvOx3vbKg3rUkMQ0pbjuZtbu8XJrqtVyt2q2aJcYCwCyaoc10X_zBqEKsVjvW-4ss/s72-c/red-dead-redemption-game.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-318909135075076115</guid><pubDate>Wed, 07 Jul 2010 05:24:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-07-07T01:24:15.338-04:00</atom:updated><title>The Smartphoners</title><atom:summary type="text">“The event that came to be known as The Pulse began at 3:03 p.m., eastern standard time, on the afternoon of October 1. The term was a misnomer, of course, but within ten hours of the even, most of the scientists capable of pointing this out were either dead or insane…” (Stephen King, Cell)
If you’ve ever read Stephen King’s novel, Cell, then you already know he created a world where a cell phone</atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2010/07/smartphoners.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYf2iDLWs2BvgE_UjngX-VhD0WG1cxyJFlqXpcKb-oQULFGorjI0c9VQ-YQu2x5eYuxyyvCgcnnun7F_x9u-DzDlT0FIJB_EqSs_vEqCMjT8lkbt24Blxzhmn-0V5A9XNEXSClR7xAA1s/s72-c/cell.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-2356076514521686438</guid><pubDate>Thu, 24 Jun 2010 01:34:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-06-23T21:56:31.687-04:00</atom:updated><title>A Story About J Like The Letter for His Birthday</title><atom:summary type="text">Once upon a time in a land far, far away, there lived a prince named Jay. A huge gala was planned to celebrate the day, but he wasn&#39;t really looking forward to the event. You might even say he was a bit skeptical of the success of the evening...See, he didn&#39;t have a date. He hadn&#39;t even asked anyone to go with him because all the eligible dames in the kingdom were boorish, half retarded likely </atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2010/06/story-about-j-like-letter-for-his.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-YAUknf63lMe2Z3WDYLP1MsmaytkI2GjavMhJoJpyd3BUeLVzgJe394MkVTMuNDbsZgnionTnUKb3wBVk0kwPWi91Mokd8BuOqMBlRg0MUMmmwy9-sMNLnToRxpQpuRiWGQ0THHtc9MI/s72-c/24592_109518882412037_100000617767167_124035_3489632_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-3583911970861655350</guid><pubDate>Tue, 01 Jun 2010 05:10:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-06-01T01:10:10.052-04:00</atom:updated><title>A Letter To Mr. Klosterman</title><atom:summary type="text">Dear Chuck Klosterman,

In your book Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs you included, as you know, an essay entitled Toby over Moby in which you stated (as, of course, you also know),

“Contrary to what you may have heard from Henry Rollins or/and Ian MacKaye and/or anyone else who joined a band after working in an ice cream shop, you can’t really learn much about a person based on what kind of music </atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2010/06/letter-to-mr-klosterman.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734021358447275393.post-8050046691662144026</guid><pubDate>Tue, 01 Jun 2010 03:55:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-06-23T22:43:52.367-04:00</atom:updated><title>Patriotism and Metal: An Analogy</title><atom:summary type="text">Sludge metal has made it possible for me to explain my take on patriotism.

Ballsy statement, I know. It may even sound ludicrous, but it’s quite true. See, I listen to a sort of balanced selection of music. (Note: I did say sort of and that is essential in understanding I don’t slide Beethoven’s 5th into the cd player of my car on long trips though I’d prefer that to a travis tritt album any day</atom:summary><link>http://boobietasselsforbuddha.blogspot.com/2010/05/patriotism-and-metal-analogy.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (jenniy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNM6A7oW2jlD42bPcDz8_qGPBmMbztrEL0GCad1lP3en4dncmqf6op0algazjNdtJ1oZwACUaWfJ_obNl5aoGd88MZ9AXZN4RVRczwtjPM5Q2L2RwZAJvSRi2n4BM5WvJw_w9ww7kCoJU/s72-c/01AwcamwAN_U4ArYQBAAAAK1kkQUs-.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item></channel></rss>