<?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-5243413</id><updated>2011-04-21T17:30:20.067-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am a Doo Doo Brain</title><subtitle type='html'>It could be worse.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ftrodasta.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5243413/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ftrodasta.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>FT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07336079070575334294</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5243413.post-114042932941524421</id><published>2006-02-20T02:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-02-20T02:55:29.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Down, Six To Go</title><summary type='text'>It's 2:31 am, just two hours and thirty one minutes into my oldest son's 9th birthday. I just got back from driving the second kid home from an eight kid sleep-over we agreed to hold as celebration of the afore mentioned birthday. They are dropping off like flies. The remaining six are wide awake with what appears to be no hope of sleep this evening. Amid the almost constant farting, I am </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5243413/posts/default/114042932941524421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5243413/posts/default/114042932941524421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ftrodasta.blogspot.com/2006_02_01_archive.html#114042932941524421' title='Two Down, Six To Go'/><author><name>FT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07336079070575334294</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5243413.post-111326110447936464</id><published>2005-04-11T15:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-11T16:14:54.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Crazy Starts With C</title><summary type='text'>I think with all that went on with Terri Shaivo, the need for a Living Will and DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) is painfully evident. In addition, I propose a new type of "life disclaimer"... The DTR (Do Take Responsibility). With every Big Mac, every cup of scalding hot coffee, every pack of cigarettes, every Hostess Fruit pie, every car that can travel faster than 5 mph, every bottle of alcohol, and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5243413/posts/default/111326110447936464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5243413/posts/default/111326110447936464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ftrodasta.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111326110447936464' title='Crazy Starts With C'/><author><name>FT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07336079070575334294</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5243413.post-109376774597757855</id><published>2004-08-29T01:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-08-29T01:22:25.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Deadly Metal Bee</title><summary type='text'>I want to write a short story about a deadly metal bee... one that was sent by aliens (no, I don't believe in aliens, but they are always good for the unexplainable... and flu shots, but that is another story). This deadly metal bee would have the DNA of every living person on the earth encoded into a memory chip, and this deadly metal bee would go around killing people. The plan would be to wipe</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5243413/posts/default/109376774597757855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5243413/posts/default/109376774597757855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ftrodasta.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109376774597757855' title='Deadly Metal Bee'/><author><name>FT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07336079070575334294</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5243413.post-109363230903211685</id><published>2004-08-27T10:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-08-27T11:50:22.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who's Medal Is It?</title><summary type='text'>PAUL HAMM'S! And he shouldn't even think of giving it back. The coach for the other gymnast is the one who made the error. Suck it up! If anything, I think the coach and gymnast should have done the right thing, admitted their error, and left it at that! Why should Paul Hamm pay for the coach's error? Hello, you are in the Olympics, maybe you should double-check the score card... that might be on</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5243413/posts/default/109363230903211685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5243413/posts/default/109363230903211685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ftrodasta.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109363230903211685' title='Who&apos;s Medal Is It?'/><author><name>FT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07336079070575334294</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5243413.post-109027300988525812</id><published>2004-07-19T12:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-19T15:48:56.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Funniest Thing At The Zoo</title><summary type='text'>I was at the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo yesterday with my wife, the sons of thunder (new name for my three boys), and some newly found cousins. We saw all the exhibits, new and old, and enjoyed the day fully. When I say we saw all of the exhibits, I am not lying, we saw every stinking exhibit. Now, that doesn't sound like a great feat, but considering the shape I am in, plus the 80+ degree weather, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5243413/posts/default/109027300988525812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5243413/posts/default/109027300988525812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ftrodasta.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#109027300988525812' title='The Funniest Thing At The Zoo'/><author><name>FT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07336079070575334294</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5243413.post-107835483260750627</id><published>2004-03-03T16:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-03-03T16:04:12.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pray. Pray Naked. Pray Often.</title><summary type='text'>I have heard a bunch of what people think of "The Passion of the Christ" and so I thought I would throw my two cents in. Well, not really... To be honest, I saw the movie last week and I still haven't finished processing it internally. To be sure, I have wrestled with the surface questions like, "What gospel was the basis of the movie?" and "Why did Satan have a baby-demon-thingy when Jesus was </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5243413/posts/default/107835483260750627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5243413/posts/default/107835483260750627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ftrodasta.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107835483260750627' title='Pray. Pray Naked. Pray Often.'/><author><name>FT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07336079070575334294</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5243413.post-107703890437297899</id><published>2004-02-17T10:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-02-17T10:30:59.513-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Driving In My Car &amp; Pre-Fall Gene Therapy</title><summary type='text'>I was in my car the other day, when I had this idea. What if, through the decoding of the human genome and all the research being done on unraveling of human DNA, it was discovered that the knowledge of sin and good / evil (a.k.a. -The Fall) could be traced to a certain gene. And that through complex gene therapy, a person could become mentally and physically (obviously not spiritually) restored </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5243413/posts/default/107703890437297899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5243413/posts/default/107703890437297899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ftrodasta.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107703890437297899' title='Driving In My Car &amp; Pre-Fall Gene Therapy'/><author><name>FT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07336079070575334294</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5243413.post-96022670</id><published>2003-06-25T10:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-06-25T10:26:45.360-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Keep Your Eye On The Swallow Part 1For a while now I have been wrestling with the direction of my life. Not just the small day to day things, such as remembering to put my coffee cup in the dishwasher before I go to work or whether McDonald's for the second time in two days will damage the kids, but big unmanageable things. Where do I want to be in 5 years? Should I stay at my present job? Is </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5243413/posts/default/96022670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5243413/posts/default/96022670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ftrodasta.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#96022670' title=''/><author><name>FT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07336079070575334294</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5243413.post-91966019</id><published>2003-04-03T23:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-04-03T23:25:09.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>According to my 2 year old boy, Eli, who we have affectionately nick-named "Pickle", I am a "Doo Doo Brain". I guess it could be worse....</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5243413/posts/default/91966019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5243413/posts/default/91966019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ftrodasta.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#91966019' title=''/><author><name>FT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07336079070575334294</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
