<?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-8109077700195483430</id><updated>2012-02-16T18:39:57.780-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Daily Doings</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>49</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-4958963255933361914</id><published>2010-08-20T18:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-20T18:22:11.984-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scriptis noctum</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=" ;font-family:Arial;font-size:10pt;"&gt;My mind is on fire, I don’t know how to put it out. At night I dream of magma chambers, I’m trapped inside. I can only escape through the lava tubes. I ride them like waterslides. I am erupted from  a volcano, on fire and in skeleton form. Nobody sees me. I fall into the  jungle, starting a family is impossible. There are no mates here. I lie on my  back, watching the sky blink day and night, the sun and moon stripe across the  sky. Only the ants will take me in. I join their colony only to be dehumanized  once again, carrying food and supplies back and forth. Defecation is my only reprieve, which I learn to cherish. My name is no longer Brandon Johnn.  My name is Grandon Vohnn. Then I awake, beads of sweat like ants crawling down  my face. I’m home, a new nightmare begins.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-4958963255933361914?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/4958963255933361914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2010/08/scrictis-noctum.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/4958963255933361914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/4958963255933361914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2010/08/scrictis-noctum.html' title='Scriptis noctum'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-1580822312544776296</id><published>2010-08-15T06:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-20T18:19:58.285-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dryness</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=" ;font-family:Arial;font-size:10pt;"&gt;It rained today. I think the best way to understand the rain is by standing in it, which can leave you feeling wet, inside and out. If you are wet on the outside then you have to dry off afterwards. The best way to dry off is by tumbling or spinning. Tumbling only works well if there is a lot of space, but if you are wet in a crowded area then I suggest you just spin as fast as you can. The force of the spin will expel the water from your body and clothes, this will also leave your clothes looking as if they’ve been pressed. When you tumble, make sure you tumble down stairs or down the hood of a car, otherwise you won’t get dry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-1580822312544776296?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/1580822312544776296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2010/08/dryness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/1580822312544776296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/1580822312544776296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2010/08/dryness.html' title='Dryness'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-4598002642597739567</id><published>2010-05-17T21:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-17T21:20:44.153-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The hat man</title><content type='html'>This morning I went to the club to work out, and by club I mean street.  I was there, working out, and by working out I mean showing off my new coat.  I saw a man with the most ridiculous hat.  The hat was made of fur, but it was shaped like a giant tooth.  A molar.  I asked him where he bought it.  He proceeded to tell me he was a hatter of sorts and actually made and sold similar hats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Take me to your hat store!" I demanded.  He got up, grabbed a length of string, and told me to hold the end.  He then walked away with the other end until he was about fifteen feet away.  With a gesture of his finger I understood I was to follow him, at this distance, whilst holding the end of this string.  I did just that.  Imagine that! See if you can picture me, in the club, being led along by a man wearing a furry tooth for a hat!  In the middle of a workout no less!  At the end of a string!  What a curious experience!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-4598002642597739567?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/4598002642597739567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2010/05/hat-man.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/4598002642597739567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/4598002642597739567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2010/05/hat-man.html' title='The hat man'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-2337014992213438666</id><published>2010-02-25T22:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T23:13:03.492-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Max Factor</title><content type='html'>In my travels around this great city I have noticed that most women have no idea how to dress themselves or paint their face in a way that would attract me to them.  I've put together a few tips on how to look the most beautiful.  Take heed:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1) Eyebrows are out, shave them off.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2) If you have a mole, dab it with some red lipstick, a pimple or a sore is much more attractive.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3) Teeth are really in right now, show them off, get them as white as possible and buy something large to gnaw on.  Salt Blocks work great for this, but put some tang powder on it first, otherwise the salt is overpowering.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is obviously not a comprehensive list.  If you can remember anything, remember these, and you might have a chance.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-2337014992213438666?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/2337014992213438666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2010/02/max-factor.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/2337014992213438666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/2337014992213438666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2010/02/max-factor.html' title='Max Factor'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-9021933203705954830</id><published>2010-02-18T00:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T00:37:23.648-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just pay attention to my plan please.</title><content type='html'>I was thinking about how much I love white doves today.  The doves they always release at weddings and when peace treaties are signed.  The only thing they need is a jetstream, a jetstream all the colors of the rainbow.  Whenever anything violent breaks out just release the doves, and everyone will look and see.  They'll realize that doves rhymes with loves.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I realize this will never happen, so I have a plan.  What I plan to do is wear a pair of white gloves with writing on each of the palms.  on the right palm it will say "doves" and on the left glove it will say "loves".  When I put up my hands palms out, people will read "doves loves".  This will forever force the people who see them to associate doves with loves.  Additionally, they'll associate gloves with loves and doves.  I'll be the guy who started the global "doves loves gloves" movement.  I know there won't be a rainbow jetstream, but I think this is a good start, we'll get there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-9021933203705954830?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/9021933203705954830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2010/02/just-pay-attention-to-my-plan-please.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/9021933203705954830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/9021933203705954830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2010/02/just-pay-attention-to-my-plan-please.html' title='Just pay attention to my plan please.'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-2333522064357241531</id><published>2010-01-11T21:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T21:28:22.124-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Outward Dreaming</title><content type='html'>Sometimes, at night, I like to look out my window towards the heavens.  I pretend I'm a deep space explorer venturing into parts never before seen by human eye.  I imagine there are planets with life out there.  I imagine it is my duty to observe and document their activities.  I watch them when they think nobody is looking.  They are unaffected by my observations, their environment stays intact.  They shower and get ready for bed, I write it all down, times and places.  I take pictures and send them back to earth.  My fellow humans won't believe what I see, this is the evidence they need, I keep my own copies to prove to myself it wasn't a dream.  My blinds snap back into place as I remove my fingers and retire for the night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-2333522064357241531?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/2333522064357241531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2010/01/outward-dreaming.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/2333522064357241531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/2333522064357241531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2010/01/outward-dreaming.html' title='Outward Dreaming'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-6769508480858892662</id><published>2009-12-20T23:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-21T10:33:22.948-08:00</updated><title type='text'>We are dalmations</title><content type='html'>When I stand in the snow all I can think about is how black we all look next to something so white.  When I ride in a crowded subway train I feel the same way.  My soul is black and yours are all white, with some black spots.  My biggest fear is that somebody will perceive this and single me out.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I saw a documentary on TV about a "soul-seeker", he lives in Uganda luckily.  Whenever this man finds a person with a black soul he kills them and feeds them to children in the form of a sweet soup.  The reason he feeds black souls to children is to pollute their innocence.  There is no malice in this.  All of us have a little black in our souls, otherwise we would fall victim to cancer or fraud.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the US we get our doses of evil injected into our souls by means other than cannibalism.  Sometimes it comes in the form of children's vitamins, sometimes I just spray a fine mist of it into people's faces as I walk around the city.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-6769508480858892662?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/6769508480858892662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/12/when-i-stand-in-snow-all-i-can-think.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/6769508480858892662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/6769508480858892662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/12/when-i-stand-in-snow-all-i-can-think.html' title='We are dalmations'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-8307352031141003222</id><published>2009-11-28T12:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-28T12:14:02.803-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Origin of Johnn</title><content type='html'>As you are well aware, I spell my last name Johnn rather than John.  It wasn't always this way, I had my name legally changed some years back.  It has always bothered me that people always assume they know how to spell my name.  They used to always get it right, now they always get it wrong.  This gives me the opportunity to correct them right off, which gives me a social edge when meeting new people.  There is absolutely no way you knew this before I just told you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-8307352031141003222?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/8307352031141003222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/11/origin-of-johnn.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/8307352031141003222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/8307352031141003222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/11/origin-of-johnn.html' title='The Origin of Johnn'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-7289521479535607280</id><published>2009-11-09T10:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T10:46:03.341-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am Brandon, I am a man.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I was born on the day after Christmas 1976, boxing day in Canada.  Boxing day is appropriate because I came out fighting, a cesarian.  I never wanted to leave my mother’s womb, sometimes I’ve thought about constructing an artificial womb to live out the rest of my days inside.  I think an exercise ball filled with warm pudding would be ideal.  I would have some kind of breathing apparatus and when I got hungry I would just eat pudding.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My biological mother was a 15 year-old high-school dropout.  My mother was weak, but my father was powerful, like a cumulonimbus cloud.  I inherited this trait from him, power, sometimes I can feel his energy pulsing through my body as if it were electricity.  My ears buzz and my heart booms and I feel like I could kill somebody with a simple touch of the finger.  This energy sends me messages from time to time.  They are messages from my father, from beyond.  I never discovered this until I was about 15.  I had been feeling the energy for some time, it would come and go.  Then one day in the 9th grade I put my hand against my locker while I was feeling the energy and I heard an echoey, rattley voice that seemed to come from the metal.  I drew my hand back and it stopped.  I put my hand back and received my first message from my father: “Brandon, I am your father, I love you.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My father has since told me a little about my mother and what led her to give me up for adoption.  He explained that she and him had accidentally swallowed watermelon seeds and while they made her belly swell they made my father shrink down so small that he climbed into my mother’s belly button.  He continued shrinking until he no longer existed as matter, he became a force that lives inside my flesh and blood.  He has taught me so much and I am eternally in his debt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I’ve never told a soul about this before, about my father, he instructed me not to.  I feel the time is right, since I’m nearing the end of my life and he no longer lives within me.  I don’t know how common or uncommon this type of relationship might be but I hope that these revelations might give others comfort in knowing they’re not alone.  A comfort I’ve always yearned for myself.  Is anybody out there?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-7289521479535607280?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/7289521479535607280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-am-brandon-i-am-man.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/7289521479535607280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/7289521479535607280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-am-brandon-i-am-man.html' title='I am Brandon, I am a man.'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-1256436340970396402</id><published>2009-10-27T15:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T15:33:48.999-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Big Brother</title><content type='html'>I was home last night playing strip solitaire after work, the game was just getting interesting when I got a phone call from an unknown number.  It was a 702 area code, Las Vegas.  I didn't answer the phone in time so I missed the call.  They didn't leave a voicemail.  Spades and diamonds were already on my mind, I didn't know what to make of it.  I don't know anyone in Vegas, but they must know me.  Did they somehow see me cheat just then?  Can't I play by my own rules in my own house?  I really don't mind being watched, but I've always hated bullies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-1256436340970396402?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/1256436340970396402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/10/big-brother.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/1256436340970396402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/1256436340970396402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/10/big-brother.html' title='Big Brother'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-7948710642126872609</id><published>2009-10-21T16:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T16:19:16.241-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How to make friends and loved ones</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I don’t like wasting my time with idiots. When meeting people I usually implement a social filter of some sort to see if they are worth my time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here is a walk-through of what I recently began doing in parks:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1) I first go into the park and sit down right next to somebody on an otherwise empty bench, our bodies touching. Some people find this uncomfortable and will leave within minutes. Most people like to stick it out and prove they aren’t afraid or suspicious of strangers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2) Next, I Begin leafing through large-print photos of myself, photos big enough that my face appears life-sized in my lap. I have seven different photos I use for this (happy, sad, surprised, eager, asleep, dramatic, and silly). I make sure to tilt the prints towards my friend so they can be sure to see them. I let the photos do the work for me, a true Johnnrade will seize the opportunity to strike up a conversation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3) I put away my headshots and let the friendship or romance take root.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Be creative, don't be afraid to try variations on this. My friend Quint uses photos of children playing soccer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-7948710642126872609?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/7948710642126872609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/10/how-to-make-friends-and-loved-ones_21.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/7948710642126872609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/7948710642126872609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/10/how-to-make-friends-and-loved-ones_21.html' title='How to make friends and loved ones'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-469531382346329029</id><published>2009-10-20T20:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T20:47:51.664-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A social problem with a simple solution.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;As I was coming up the stairs out of the subway I saw a man at the top, likely a bum, with his hand up soliciting a high five.  I could feel his filthy eyes greasing up my jib, but I focused my energy and ignored my natural curiosity.  I strode past pretending he didn't exist.  I do this with all bums, especially ones who try to engage me.  Humoring him would have resulted in a hand full of filth or an embarrassing "diss".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Bums are a social problem that breaks two otherwise solid conventions:&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;You can't judge a book by its cover.&lt;/b&gt;  This is not applicable, bums are just as filthy on the inside as they are on the outside.  No bums have any potential whatsoever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ignoring a problem is not a solution to a problem.&lt;/b&gt;  Also N/A, I can actually see bums shrink in size from the corner of my eye as I ignore them.  By my estimation it would take approximately 150 cold shoulders to make normal-sized male bum disappear completely.  Think about that, it's a problem that's frighteningly simple to solve if we all pitch in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-469531382346329029?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/469531382346329029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/10/social-problem-with-simple-solution.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/469531382346329029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/469531382346329029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/10/social-problem-with-simple-solution.html' title='A social problem with a simple solution.'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-8154086014685379391</id><published>2009-10-01T15:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T16:14:06.269-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Decomposure of Brandon Johnn</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;My face is covered in flies&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Only pregnant women get by&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am medium sized&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't tell me who i am&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am Brandon, I am a man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let's try new things&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My pursuits come passively&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am not without sin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't tell me who I am&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am Brandon, I am a man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm never recognized&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My computer burrs and pipes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;this is not a jive&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't tell me who I am&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am Brandon, I am a man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is a work in progress, but I think it's going well.  It's meant to be a song.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-8154086014685379391?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/8154086014685379391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/10/decomposure-of-brandon-johnn.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/8154086014685379391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/8154086014685379391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/10/decomposure-of-brandon-johnn.html' title='The Decomposure of Brandon Johnn'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-4370167434940606638</id><published>2009-09-30T15:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T15:31:42.134-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Coming to a realization</title><content type='html'>Today I was thinking a lot about flowers.  I think all flowers and blossoms are beautiful, I dare you to find an ugly one.  You won't be able to do it.  Does this make me a bisexual since I'm attracted to both male and female flowers?  I'm not attracted to male humans.  All cats are cute too.  I guess I'm only bisexual with flowers and cats.  Maybe just bi-curious, is there a name for this?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-4370167434940606638?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/4370167434940606638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/09/coming-to-realization.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/4370167434940606638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/4370167434940606638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/09/coming-to-realization.html' title='Coming to a realization'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-5122449125538639322</id><published>2009-09-24T21:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T21:18:09.063-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a new superhero</title><content type='html'>If I could have the power of any animal it would be that of a tick.  Ticks are indestructible and they suck blood.  Just call me Tick Tock.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-5122449125538639322?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/5122449125538639322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/09/new-superhero.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/5122449125538639322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/5122449125538639322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/09/new-superhero.html' title='a new superhero'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-3787052981616203453</id><published>2009-09-22T16:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T16:16:53.928-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SLAM</title><content type='html'>I try to visit the top of the Empire State Building at least once every month.  The last few times I've gone I've started bringing a bag of coins to the top.  I etch "SLAM" into the face of each coin and deftly throw it off the observation deck.  Nobody has caught me yet.  I'm hoping this will make me famous someday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-3787052981616203453?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/3787052981616203453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/09/slam.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/3787052981616203453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/3787052981616203453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/09/slam.html' title='SLAM'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-7320138022959609610</id><published>2009-09-21T19:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T20:53:17.695-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A painful reminder of how things used to be.</title><content type='html'>The Emmys were last night.  Unfortunately none of the shows nominated are worth 3 pence less than a nickel.  Ever since Murphy Brown went off the air my TV has been facing the wall, ashamed of its programming.  I still long for Candace Bergen, or Candace Johnn as I prefer.  All the Tina Feys in the world will never fill this hole in my heart.  A hole shaped like Candace Bergen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-7320138022959609610?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/7320138022959609610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/09/painful-reminder-of-how-things-used-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/7320138022959609610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/7320138022959609610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/09/painful-reminder-of-how-things-used-to.html' title='A painful reminder of how things used to be.'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-853845756664020109</id><published>2009-09-20T15:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T15:34:30.853-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Man vs Beast</title><content type='html'>Somebody once told me that humans are the only animal that sleeps on their back.  The reason we humans do this is so our souls don't seep out through our belly buttons.  If we slept on our stomachs every night it would only take about 3 years before we lost our souls completely.  The one thing all serial killers have in common is that they sleep face down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-853845756664020109?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/853845756664020109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/09/man-vs-beast.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/853845756664020109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/853845756664020109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/09/man-vs-beast.html' title='Man vs Beast'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-8272902478761215215</id><published>2009-09-19T11:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T11:31:13.067-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Genes</title><content type='html'>I hate glasses.  Not only do they make me look stupid and ugly, but they make everyone else look ugly too.  When i wear them i can see all kinds of i&lt;a href="http://contexts.org/socimages/files/2008/11/faceenhancebefore.jpg"&gt;mperfections in their skin&lt;/a&gt; that i would have never noticed before.  Everyone in the world is undatable if you have 20/20 vision.  Which is why i think perfect vision is a curse and I am blessed.  My vision is just good enough to tell if somebody is looking at me from &lt;a href="http://www.dobbies.co.uk/acatalog/bestway-15ft-inflatable-fast-set-pool-57121GB.jpg"&gt;15 feet&lt;/a&gt; away, and that's all I need.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-8272902478761215215?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/8272902478761215215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/09/good-genes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/8272902478761215215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/8272902478761215215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/09/good-genes.html' title='Good Genes'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-5406082903362058735</id><published>2009-08-31T20:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T20:52:45.173-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Mind</title><content type='html'>Somebody once told me: "Brandon, your mind is like a steel trap!"&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought about this long and hard, what did he refer to? It was after I had noticed he his misuse of the plural form of the word &lt;i&gt;crisis, &lt;/i&gt;he had said&lt;i&gt; crisises, &lt;/i&gt;rather than the correct form:&lt;i&gt; crises.  &lt;/i&gt;I never realized Aaron was such a &lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Layman"&gt;layman&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/i&gt;until that moment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Having a mind like a steel trap is being an &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human"&gt;intelligent human being&lt;/a&gt;, nothing more.  Nothing in my mind is spring loaded, although the sting of my wit might make one think otherwise.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I realize how intimidating my wit can be, I don't miss a beat, much like a steel trap doesn't miss a raccoon's leg if they step on the &lt;i&gt;loaded plate.  &lt;/i&gt;Aaron stepped on the loaded plate of my mind, and it stung.  Now I know how the farmer feels when he catches the raccoon that's been getting into his corn and eating his chickens.  Will he show mercy?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-5406082903362058735?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/5406082903362058735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-mind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/5406082903362058735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/5406082903362058735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-mind.html' title='My Mind'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-4613200037180328432</id><published>2009-08-05T19:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T19:34:06.011-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A true recovery takes spirit</title><content type='html'>Please pardon my absence, I've been recovering from a very extensive surgery.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-4613200037180328432?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/4613200037180328432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/08/true-recovery-takes-spirit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/4613200037180328432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/4613200037180328432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/08/true-recovery-takes-spirit.html' title='A true recovery takes spirit'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-8266873255874367160</id><published>2009-04-26T20:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T20:19:08.455-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spider Attack!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Arial"&gt;Today I put on my big baggy sweatpants.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I normally wear these when I pretend I’m an ostrich, this time I pretended I was a clothespin.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I ran around my apartment and pinched as many clothes between my legs as I could.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As I picked up my bumble bee T-shirt a spider fell out, it looked at me with all 8 eyes.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I froze as best as I could, their vision is based on movement. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Then once it was fooled it turned and began crawling away.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then I raised my right leg high in the air and yelled “clothespin clamp!” then brought my foot right on top of it and smashed it to spider hell. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Does spider hell exist?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-8266873255874367160?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/8266873255874367160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/04/spider-attack.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/8266873255874367160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/8266873255874367160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/04/spider-attack.html' title='Spider Attack!'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-9201642575730121459</id><published>2009-04-16T21:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T21:50:40.292-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hear ye, Hear ye</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I like music.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I also like live music.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I wish I were the only person who enjoyed live music.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I went to a concert recently and was disgusted by the other fans in attendance.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It seems that in every crowd there are a dozen people or so who feel that they have an extremely important message or request that they need to get to the performers.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They make song requests, as if the floor were open to such nonsense.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Performers perform and the audience listens.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Please, save your applause until the very end, these people have me at my wit’s end!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Also, no need to run onto the stage, it will not make you famous nor will the performers enjoy it.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They will hate you for it.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If I were performing on stage and somebody did this then I would stop the show immediately and not begin until the audience delivered that person’s shirt and shoes onstage.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Once I had these articles onstage I would cast a spell on them and then burn them.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Next I would direct my light crew to shine a spotlight directly on the offender as they sat exposed in shame with no shirt or shoes for the rest of the night.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The intent is to shame them into leaving the auditorium as quickly as possible, at which point I would again stop the performance and cheer, my mindless fans would of course follow suit.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This would no doubt conjure up repressed memories of being molested and humiliated as a child and cause them to lapse into a deep depression during which they lose their job, money and the ability to feel time pass. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Man-eating mummies move into their neighborhood and build a trusting relationship with them only to suddenly eat them while both their children are away at camp together.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;In a perfect world it would be an undeniable and well-known truth that every bum on the street was an obnoxious and disruptive patron at a live show or in a movie theater at one point or another.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This is how they came to live the sad life they live now.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Unfortunately each bums has unique stories and diseases that we couldn’t even begin to relate to.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;In this perfect world concerts would not be done in auditoriums, not traditional ones anyways.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This is how they would be done: each person in attendance would have a personalized stall in which they could neither hear nor see the other viewers.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;However, the performers would be able to hear all of their approving cheers.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Hearing the audience’s approval and knowing they are being thoroughly entertained in a way that uplifts and stimulates them is essential to keeping the energy high until the end of the show, until the climax.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The performers would not be able to see you in the booth either, you would be anonymous.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The experience would be similar to one of those stripper peep shows I keep hearing so much about.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As for the entertainers it would be an incredible improvement, instead of a sea of idiotic people they would face a sea of enthusiastic noise-boxes, chattering away voicing their approval.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-9201642575730121459?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/9201642575730121459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/04/hear-ye-hear-ye.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/9201642575730121459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/9201642575730121459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/04/hear-ye-hear-ye.html' title='Hear ye, Hear ye'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-8550847137947888288</id><published>2009-04-15T18:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T18:29:02.680-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A word of advice</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="utdU2e"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="QqXVeb"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id=":195" class="ii gt"&gt;             &lt;div link="blue" vlink="purple" lang="EN-US"&gt;  &lt;div&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style=" ;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Like many offices, my office has a bathroom.  One men’s and one women’s for the floor.  The men’s has two stalls and one urinal and I can only dream of what the women's bathroom is like, but I'll save that for a future post.  Sounds normal right?  I guess it is, if you like to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=poop%20back%20and%20forth"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;poop back and forth&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;.  Having only two stalls is horrible, the most grievous interior design flaw committed in a public restroom.  It’s better to just have either one or have three (or more), two is out of the question.  Why?  I’m glad you asked, when you enter the bathroom, and need to go number two and somebody is occupying one out of two stalls, what do you do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops:list .5in"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="mso-list:Ignore"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;A)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;      &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span dir="LTR"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;You enter the open stall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops:list .5in"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="mso-list:Ignore"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;B)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;      &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span dir="LTR"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;You enter the occupied stall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops:list .5in"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="mso-list:Ignore"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;C)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;      &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span dir="LTR"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;You leave and come back when both stalls are free&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="  ;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The correct answer is C.  You cannot, under even extreme circumstances, sit down right next to man and expect either of you to perform a sit-down operation in peace.  You can see each other’s shoes, you can hear him clicking buttons on his phone, and you both sacrifice comfort and efficiency to be silent and polite.  We are in a bathroom, why the shyness?  I don’t know, its just expected.  There is a certain degree of anonymity in this environment, but not nearly enough to comfortably relieve yourself without potentially opening yourself up to ridicule and isolation will ultimately leads to death.  In other words, these two stalls ain't big enough for the two of us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style=" ;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;On the other hand, place a stall between the two and the distance will make both of you much more comfortable.  Remove a stall and the decision is made for you and everybody wins, eventually, once we wait our turn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style=" ;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;“But you’re asking a lot, changing the whole bathroom around like that.”  I beg to differ, all you have to do is remove the door on one of the stalls, then it will become an additional urinal.  Nobody craps in a stall that has no door, unless you’re some kind of freak.  Remove the toilet seat too if you're that worried about it.  I plan on returning to my office this weekend to remove a stall door from the bathroom.  Follow my lead.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-8550847137947888288?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/8550847137947888288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/04/like-many-offices-my-office-has.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/8550847137947888288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/8550847137947888288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/04/like-many-offices-my-office-has.html' title='A word of advice'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-6579756456235047498</id><published>2009-04-13T20:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T21:16:20.974-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ringxiety</title><content type='html'>Last night while I was in the middle of my third REM cycle I had an out of body experience.  I traveled to the other side of the world at the speed of light.  I went to Tokyo.  It was the middle of the day, people were bustling about the city going to and fro.  The people were so numerous that they looked like the fibers on a fine oriental rug being graced by the invisible touch of a tired man, lying on his rug, squirming on a hot afternoon.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The people could not see me, I was invisible and also tiny.  I was so tiny I could fit into any one of their pockets if I wanted to.  This was my desire.  I entered a small cafe, entered each patron's pocket and shook back and forth violently.  My interferences gave the recipient a feeling of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ringxiety"&gt;ringxiety&lt;/a&gt; every time, without fail.  When they got out their phone and saw that there was neither a call nor a text, it was like the punchline of a hilarious joke intended only for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next time you get a phantom ring you will know exactly where it came from.  This is probably the most common and beloved prank among out of body travelers.  Feel free to laugh along with us moving forward.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-6579756456235047498?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/6579756456235047498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/04/ringxiety.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/6579756456235047498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/6579756456235047498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/04/ringxiety.html' title='Ringxiety'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-1389341353861928199</id><published>2009-04-10T11:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T11:43:57.530-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A change is in the wind</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; "&gt;&lt;div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last night I dreamt I was popping giant zits all over my body, it was better than popping bubblewrap.  I won't get into the gory details, but I will tell you that when I looked in the mirror my body looked like a skeleton.  I was skinnier than I had ever dreamed of before.  I don't know what this means, maybe I need to purge my body of something.  Purge my soul of something.  For the next 24 hours I will murmur a string of obscenities, every single one I can think of, this will cause my soul to deflate and I will be primed to fill the void I create with something new and fresh.  After this I will smother my body in vasoline and oils, I hope this will cause me to break out in zits and I will be able to pop them as prescribed in the dream.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-1389341353861928199?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/1389341353861928199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/04/change-is-in-wind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/1389341353861928199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/1389341353861928199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/04/change-is-in-wind.html' title='A change is in the wind'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-1874286576138900443</id><published>2009-03-30T22:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T22:38:53.437-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Roots</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="border-collapse: collapse;   font-size:13px;"&gt;I woke up this morning feeling pretty drab. I tried all the routine things that typically perk my spirits: Smashing cherry tomatoes in my palm (great stress reliever), perusing ebay for Cabbage Patch Kids, doing science experiments. Nothing seemed to help though. Then it occurred to me that I was out of touch with my inner child. So I lay in my tub, and did a breathing exercise; four short breaths in - one long breath out. Then I did an "envisioning". I tuned out all the hub-bub from the world outside, and connected in my mind to my younger self. I called out to him, saying "BRANDON! WHAT IS WRONG?" From the lunch line he raised his fists and shouted back, "NO DOUGH!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="border-collapse: collapse;   font-family:arial;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I awoke with a defibrillative jolt, splashing suds all over my new USA bath mat and sat in awe, pondering the potential meaning of his words. After thirty minutes of brow-furrowing contemplation, the water had chilled, and I found myself unwittingly gyrating for warmth. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;This will not do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;, I thought, so I dressed myself and went for a stroll around town.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;On my way to the subway, I passed a pizza kitchen called "Tony Tomatoes" and thought I'd pop in for a slice of Hawaiian. But before I could order, something caught my eye. A bakers dozen of yeasty orbs rising in the morning sunlight coming through the window. It was then I remembered that as an adolescent, I used to love to gnash my teeth into a wad of pizza dough. I offered Tony Tomato five dollars to bag me the best uncooked glob on the rack; an offer which he accepted. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I consumed it greedily on the subway, swallowing every slick chewful with addicting fervor, and I perfectly beamed for the whole remainder of the day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;So thank you little Johnn. You know me better than I know myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-1874286576138900443?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/1874286576138900443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/roots.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/1874286576138900443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/1874286576138900443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/roots.html' title='Roots'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-7111413046138533987</id><published>2009-03-30T01:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T01:48:05.390-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother Earth</title><content type='html'>I watched a program today that discussed the desire among pregnant women to eat dirt as opposed to "people food". I have always wanted to understand the subtle intricacies of the feminine mind, so I set out to try this for myself.  I put on my maroon turtleneck and head for the park where I then picked a quiet patch of earth and began digging and sifting for what I perceived to be the best handfuls of soil available.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; I had to force the first bite or two, washing it down with a Fresca I'd brought along, but before long I felt I truly understood the appeal. So when I spotted a young pregnant woman sitting by the pond, I walked over and wished her well with the blessing in her belly. Then I dropped a handful of the dirt I had pocketed next to her on the bench. "For later!" I said, "Just whenever you get hungry."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; You know something? I think that if things had been different, I could have made a really excellent mother. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-7111413046138533987?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/7111413046138533987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/mother-earth.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/7111413046138533987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/7111413046138533987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/mother-earth.html' title='Mother Earth'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-2826846712920832800</id><published>2009-03-27T01:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T01:48:51.247-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Trouble With Children</title><content type='html'>Ever since I was one myself, I have struggled with the general bad temperament of children. Therefore I make it my business to teach them life lessons that they would not be getting else-wise. Work ethic, honesty and courteousness I think are the hallmarks of good rearing and so these are the attributes I seek to instill in the youth I come in contact with.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I was on the bus, when a boy (aged 9, so he told me) boarded. I slid over and offered him the seat next to my own. When he accepted, we conversed shortly and then I engaged him in a quick round of  "I-Spy", as a way to gauge how much tutelage he was in need of. I told him that I had spied an orange briefcase, knowing full well there was none to be found. He looked around, and instead of lying to appease me, he bashfully admitted defeat. He could see no orange briefcase. I told him that was right, patted him on the head and offered him half a packet of Smarties that I had saved from the bank. He declined my offer and told me that we had already arrived at his stop. It couldn't have been more than 8 blocks. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So the boy, despite his honesty, proved my point. Children are just terribly lazy people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-2826846712920832800?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/2826846712920832800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/trouble-with-children.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/2826846712920832800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/2826846712920832800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/trouble-with-children.html' title='The Trouble With Children'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-7719881978823430902</id><published>2009-03-25T21:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T21:22:38.455-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Do you believe?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Today I brought my laptop on the train with me.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It’s no ordinary laptop.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In fact, it’s just an old busted one I got for free off craigslist, it doesn’t work.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What I’ve done is I’ve installed a mirror where the screen should be.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I like to take it out in public and pretend as if I’m talking via webcam with an old friend of mine.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have some old earphones I wear to simulate one side of a conversation.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then, whenever somebody who I find unattractive looks at me I start talking about "the creep who keeps staring at me".&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I try to do this loud enough so they can hear, until they get up and leave.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Sometimes they say something to me first, this is very rare, but they always leave the area within five minutes.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This is how I clear out the unattractive people to make room for attractive people.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Whenever I lock eyes with one of them I say: “hey! Would you like to meet my friend?&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He lives among the spirits in a &lt;a href="http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/720805/are_mirrors_portals_to_the_spirit_world.html"&gt;parallel world&lt;/a&gt;.”&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That’s when I turn the laptop towards them and show them it’s a mirror.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then I normally improvise a joke about how they look a lot like them, I can be really hilarious and witty off the cuff.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In the summer you can find me doing this all over the Great Lawn in &lt;st1:place&gt;Central Park&lt;/st1:place&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-7719881978823430902?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/7719881978823430902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/do-you-believe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/7719881978823430902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/7719881978823430902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/do-you-believe.html' title='Do you believe?'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-7041991501352057389</id><published>2009-03-23T16:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T16:32:49.621-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How to make friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Whenever I ride in an elevator I make sure to bring a bottle of Brandy and 2 glasses.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;There’s always enough time for a quick drink and some conversation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Now I know what you’re thinking: “What’s so special about sharing a drink on the elevator?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Well I’ll tell you, I press the emergency stop button to halt the elevator and then take the time to acquaint myself with whoever is riding at that moment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;  This is the only way to ensure you have enough time get to know each other.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Stopping it with only one other person is ideal since I only bring two glasses, it’s embarrassing not having enough for everyone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;The conversation is a little awkward at first, as it is whenever you meet a new person, but everyone always warms up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;  If they seem overly bashful or are calling for help, assure them that everything is under control and propose a toast.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I met my best friend Quint this way, and also my arch nemesis &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Norman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-7041991501352057389?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/7041991501352057389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/how-to-make-friends.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/7041991501352057389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/7041991501352057389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/how-to-make-friends.html' title='How to make friends'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-2272274876590503656</id><published>2009-03-20T15:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T15:43:51.672-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Corporate tricks</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Today I had to sit in the most boring meeting, it made me want to rudely dismiss poor ethnic children.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I end up in boring meetings on a regular basis it seems.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The only meeting I’ve been to that wasn’t boring was the time I reserved a room and just took a nap inside.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That was the only meeting I have ever scheduled and I was also the only person I invited.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’ve decided I’m going to have that meeting bi-weekly.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;If you get roped into a boring meeting then I suggest you induce an out-of-body experience to pass the time and multi-task.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I went grocery shopping and made a deposit at the bank during my last one.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-2272274876590503656?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/2272274876590503656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/corporate-tricks.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/2272274876590503656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/2272274876590503656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/corporate-tricks.html' title='Corporate tricks'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-3223085539852855761</id><published>2009-03-16T18:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T18:18:45.745-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sexy Beast</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Last night before bed, I put both of my legs through one of the leg holes in my boxer shorts.  I stood in front of my full-length mirror to see how I might look in a mini-skirt.  I tried different angles, twisting the boxers around me to obscure the empty leg.  The most attractive angle I was able to find was when i was facing away from the mirror and a little to the side, the mirror at my 4 or &lt;st1:time minute="0" hour="17"&gt;5 o’clock&lt;/st1:time&gt;.  The pose was completed by arching my back and standing up on my toes to simulate high-heels.  Legs spread slightly, ass outwards.  I looked like a true woman from the waist down. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Was I born in the wrong body?  I spanked myself and cocked a hip at the mirror, it made me feel so alive.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-3223085539852855761?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/3223085539852855761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/sexy-beast.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/3223085539852855761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/3223085539852855761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/sexy-beast.html' title='Sexy Beast'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-7957758935079115028</id><published>2009-03-12T19:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T20:10:13.257-07:00</updated><title type='text'>He steals pizzas</title><content type='html'>I love pizza so much.  My ideal Saturday night would consist of placing garlic scented candles around the bathroom and then filling up my large spa-style bathtub with slices of hot pepperoni pizza.  I would rub 100% virgin olive oil all over my body and then slip into the tub and soak in crusty warmth of it all.  Root beer goes really well with pizza too, I would be drinking that at the same time.  Every now and again I would yell something like "Avoid the Noid!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-7957758935079115028?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/7957758935079115028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/he-steals-pizzas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/7957758935079115028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/7957758935079115028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/he-steals-pizzas.html' title='He steals pizzas'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-6553684539424345582</id><published>2009-03-10T20:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T20:17:47.713-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hate Ball</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:15.0pt"&gt;Last night I got into a terrible argument with my magic 8-ball.  I asked him if he wanted to watch the news with me, he said “better not tell you now.”  I thought, ok, that’s fine, it doesn’t start for 7 more minutes so I asked him again a few minutes later.  This time he said. “Concentrate and ask again.”  I concentrated, thrusting my thoughts towards the center of the universe, the direction of which changes depending on the time of day and season of the year.  At that particular moment my intergalactic compass was pointing to the right, towards my kitchen.  I looked in that direction and concentrated for about 45 seconds, then I asked again.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:15.0pt"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; "Do you want to watch the news with me?"&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:15.0pt"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:15.0pt"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; This time my 8-ball said “My reply is no.”  I lost it.  I don’t appreciate it when my patience is toyed with.  That’s probably the worst thing he could have revealed to me at that moment, I never watch the news without him and he knows it.  I never even have to ask!  My doing so was an out of the ordinary consideration!  He just threw it back in my face! Is this how he’s always felt?  All those evenings we’ve spent watching the news together—and he didn’t want to be there?  Does he even value our relationship?  How many times has he resented me?  I feel like such a fool.  Damn him.  I couldn’t stand to look at him for the rest of the right, so I locked myself in the bathroom and then made him sleep on the couch.  I don’t know if I’ll ever get over this. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;My world will never be the same.&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:15.0pt"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-6553684539424345582?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/6553684539424345582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/hate-ball.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/6553684539424345582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/6553684539424345582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/hate-ball.html' title='The Hate Ball'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-3512348344654714556</id><published>2009-03-09T20:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T21:15:37.894-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A perfect world</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I don’t like children, sometimes I imagine a world without them.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The streets are paved with gobstoppers, we don’t eat them because we are adults and know they are not for eating.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-3512348344654714556?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/3512348344654714556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/perfect-world.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/3512348344654714556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/3512348344654714556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/perfect-world.html' title='A perfect world'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-8968223051453801478</id><published>2009-03-08T17:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T20:00:55.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fantasy stroll.  March 8, 2009</title><content type='html'>Today I pretended I was an explorer from another planet.  My name was Trorg.   The Earth's atmosphere would certainly have killed me without the goggles and snorkel I wore.  On planet Sart we breathe an atmosphere infused with aspertane caused by pollution from previous civilizations, we thrive on it and would die otherwise.  I collected soil samples and various mineral solids.  I won't be sure until I return to Sart, but I may have traveled not only through space, but also time.  I was very careful not leave behind any trace of my visit, I don't want to disrupt the order of the universe.  The most notable thing I observed was that humans have no concept of trimprog.  So fascinating!  A most curious species!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-8968223051453801478?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/8968223051453801478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/fantasy-stroll-march-8-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/8968223051453801478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/8968223051453801478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/fantasy-stroll-march-8-2009.html' title='Fantasy stroll.  March 8, 2009'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-8435122574287820122</id><published>2009-03-06T22:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T22:59:39.241-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hilarious pranks</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Sometimes, when I use a public restroom, I like to go inside each stall and lock it, then crawl out under the door.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then when somebody else comes inside and needs to use the stall they can’t get in.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This is hilarious.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don’t even need to stick around, just the thought of it happening puts me in stitches.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I can just imagine the look on that sucker’s face.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Sometimes I even leave my shoes behind so if they peek under they will think it’s occupied, then the laughs last much longer.  Ideally I would use several mannequins to really tie things up for a while, but sadly I don't have access to such props.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;Another prank I like to pull is I leave a small pin in a movie theater seat so when somebody sits down it pricks them.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When they get up and see what it was they find a note that reads: “this needle is infected with the AIDS virus”, so they get really freaked out for while until they discover it was really just a joke and they don’t have AIDS.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then they just have a good laugh with their friends.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You can do this with pretty much any disease.&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-8435122574287820122?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/8435122574287820122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/hilarious-pranks.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/8435122574287820122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/8435122574287820122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/hilarious-pranks.html' title='Hilarious pranks'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-1353138240247321789</id><published>2009-03-05T20:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T21:40:05.668-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I think I have an addiction</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Every morning I stand in the same spot in the same subway car.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There is a woman with a similar schedule who also gets in the same doors and stands nearby.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  Her hair smells absolutely incredible&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It smells something like two honeysuckles copulating on a warm spring day while eating grandma’s homemade brownies.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My eyes roll back into my skull, toes curl, and I hold back a euphoric groan with each whiff.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I always try to stand behind her, lean in, flare my nostrils and let the scent slowly ease its way inside so as not to overwhelm me.  It's a sensation I savor and then crave.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  I normally see her at least 3 or 4 times a week but the last time I smelled her hair was last Wednesday&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  I haven't seen her since.  &lt;/span&gt;Now I get headaches every morning.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’ve taken to sniffing spicy brown mustard, it gets rid of the headaches, but always ends up in a nose bleed 2 or 3 hours later. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I’m not sure what to do.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-1353138240247321789?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/1353138240247321789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-think-i-have-addiction.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/1353138240247321789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/1353138240247321789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-think-i-have-addiction.html' title='I think I have an addiction'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-3906256221473674340</id><published>2009-03-04T19:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T19:47:34.573-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A cat's life</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;All last night I dreamt I was a housecat.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was nimble and small and pretty much just hung out and slept.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When my alarm went off in the morning I immediately turned it off and went back to sleep.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Because cats don’t have alarms and get up for work, it’s time to sleep in.  Man, I'm so glad I'm a cat and not a person.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;By the time I remembered I wasn’t actually a cat at all I was already an hour late for work.  What a crazy dream.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-3906256221473674340?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/3906256221473674340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/cats-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/3906256221473674340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/3906256221473674340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/cats-life.html' title='A cat&apos;s life'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-2548229717441171105</id><published>2009-03-03T20:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T20:25:02.864-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love story</title><content type='html'>Whenever I’m nervous that a girl thinks I’m not into her I do 2 things.  First, I poke her. Try this, If you’re not sure where to poke just keep poking playfully until you get a genuine reaction.  There are no negative reactions in this scenario, only reciprocal flirts.  The second thing is making prolonged eye contact, try to get your eyes to shake back and forth slightly.  Make sure she notices this.  If her eyes dilate then your chemistry is undeniably harmonious.  I tried this with a cashier at the grocery store, our souls mated.  She is my soulmate, her name is Kathy, within 13 years I will return and claim her everlasting soul.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-2548229717441171105?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/2548229717441171105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/love-story.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/2548229717441171105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/2548229717441171105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/love-story.html' title='Love story'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-4415419381872305417</id><published>2009-03-02T15:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T15:36:26.046-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pump up the pace</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=" ;font-family:Arial;font-size:10pt;"&gt;I’ve read that laughing burns calories, this is another thing I can incorporate into my idle moments to help counteract the sedentary lifestyle.  I figure I can fit in about 6 hours of raucous laughter every day.  It also occurred to me that it takes more muscles in your face and more effort to frown than to smile, therefore, laughing normally is not the most effective calorie burner.  Three hours of frowny laughing is better than 100 thigh raises, or even 20 minutes on the bow-flex.  I’ve begun putting it into practice all the time, whether I'm in Trader Joe's, Barnes &amp;amp; Noble or just sitting at home reading the book I just purchased.  Start today, right now, if it sounds something like: “rubrubrubrubrubrub” then you’re doing it right.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-4415419381872305417?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/4415419381872305417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/pump-up-pace.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/4415419381872305417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/4415419381872305417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/pump-up-pace.html' title='Pump up the pace'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-8199291582225914213</id><published>2009-03-01T17:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T20:21:47.296-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fantasy stroll. March 1, 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Today I went for a fantasy stroll, which I normally do every Sunday.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I pretended I was a great big lion, with a luscious flowing mane.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Everyone feared me and respected me.  They admired my coat, lions are beautiful creatures.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I growled and purred and went on a hunt.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Several other lions joined me as I feasted on a fresh zebra kill. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;There is only one king of the jungle.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-8199291582225914213?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/8199291582225914213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/fantasy-stroll-march-1-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/8199291582225914213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/8199291582225914213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/03/fantasy-stroll-march-1-2009.html' title='Fantasy stroll. March 1, 2009'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-3873670453641780818</id><published>2009-02-28T10:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-28T10:53:57.683-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Living in the mind</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Sometimes, when I have a crush on somebody, I write out their name in Microsoft word or anywhere really.  I just like to take the mouse cursor and highlight their name over and over again.  I imagine that the black or dark blue space is me, I symbolically envelop the person with my love over and over again.  After a while I am able to close my eyes and imagine an entire lifetime of happy memories living and growing old with them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-3873670453641780818?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/3873670453641780818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/02/living-in-mind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/3873670453641780818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/3873670453641780818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/02/living-in-mind.html' title='Living in the mind'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-9213360685963190277</id><published>2009-02-25T17:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T18:42:42.551-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A heart is won</title><content type='html'>I've always been a romantic.  I once went on a hunger strike in order to win the heart of a woman, "You'll have to force-feed me your hate," I told her "love is the only thing these lips will touch."  Then I wiggled my nose and enchanted her with the story of the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rat_king"&gt;rat king&lt;/a&gt; I saw on the subway tracks in Grand Central.  You see, magic does happen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-9213360685963190277?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/9213360685963190277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/02/heart-is-won.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/9213360685963190277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/9213360685963190277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/02/heart-is-won.html' title='A heart is won'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-5097488720917223012</id><published>2009-02-24T18:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T18:56:17.016-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The hotness</title><content type='html'>Sometimes, when I really want to impress somebody, I tell them I'm a firefighter.  Firefighters get all the glory.  Sometimes they start asking specific questions, like "blah blah blah?" I just tell them "flame wranglers never say die, semper fi" and they normally shut up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-5097488720917223012?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/5097488720917223012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/02/hotness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/5097488720917223012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/5097488720917223012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/02/hotness.html' title='The hotness'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-2489048641995250243</id><published>2009-02-23T16:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T16:35:31.933-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A change of pace</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;My lifestyle is much too sedentary.  I’ve decided that to combat this I will involve various new things in my daily doings that will help to burn extra calories and tighten my physique.  First, instead of just standing in the subway car on my way to work or wherever I will pace.  I will do this as unobtrusively as I possibly can, as the cars can at times be crowded, by pacing into whatever open space is available, the entire length of the wagon if possible.  If the wagon is overpacked then I will have to just stay in one place and spin my body round.  Hopefully this will catch on, the entire city will be enjoying a much higher quality of life with an increased level of hustle and bustle, mostly bustle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-2489048641995250243?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/2489048641995250243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/02/change-of-pace.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/2489048641995250243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/2489048641995250243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/02/change-of-pace.html' title='A change of pace'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-5232035479255219201</id><published>2009-02-22T13:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T13:39:17.702-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A noteworthy idea</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial"&gt;I’ve decided the best way to find a mate is through the dissemination of notes.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What I’ve begun doing in the past week or so is write a short note, normally in the form of a compliment, on the back of my business card and drop it into a woman’s purse or coat pocket.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If you want to do it undetected then try the subway. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;This is a great way for a girl to know that you’ve noticed her and also get your contact information should she want to find out more about you, such as who you are and at what point you were able to sneak the card into her pocket.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;“I like the way your head looks in a hat” and “contact me for VIP access” are just a couple examples of what I came up with this past week.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Now I wait.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-5232035479255219201?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/5232035479255219201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/02/noteworthy-idea.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/5232035479255219201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/5232035479255219201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/02/noteworthy-idea.html' title='A noteworthy idea'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8109077700195483430.post-6904789512230925769</id><published>2009-02-20T18:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T10:38:52.573-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Frequent (Free Quint!)</title><content type='html'>Hello.  My name is Brandon Johnn. I have my own bedroom and my own computer.  I frequent the internet, and as you can see, I've started a blog.  I would also like to free Quint, he is a friend of mine who went to jail for being so lonely.  I hope you will frequent my blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8109077700195483430-6904789512230925769?l=brandonjohnn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/feeds/6904789512230925769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/02/frequent.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/6904789512230925769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8109077700195483430/posts/default/6904789512230925769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brandonjohnn.blogspot.com/2009/02/frequent.html' title='Frequent (Free Quint!)'/><author><name>Brandon Johnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02499977062576251961</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o1U-IFg2HGk/SbIRQG4IDfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/v_jrrL80Fpw/S220/BJportrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
