<?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-986723820101732844</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:44:29.680-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Brants Blogs</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>24</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-6391930279677671282</id><published>2009-05-05T08:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T09:06:48.728-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Tale of the Cat with Two Tails</title><content type='html'>I remember asking my old friend Jeff "does that cat really have two tails?".  Of course Jeff had the great idea to follow the cat and get a better look.  Little did we know that this chain of small events would lead us to the longest night of our lives.  We followed the large grey cat for about twenty minutes, he ran quickly through several allies and deselate back roads in which we only saw one pair of &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;headlights&lt;/span&gt;.  His grey fur glimmered in the full moon light we were graced to have so we had no trouble spotting his large body even at a distance. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually we came to a large rundown warehouse on the outside of town, the place appeared to be deserted, but as we followed the enormous cat inside the cracked walls we found that it wasn't so at all.  There was an large gathering of cats in a &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;vestibule&lt;/span&gt; all around a stage area with two torches on its sides.  The silence that preceded the grey two tailed cat died even more to where the slight breeze outside was like the engine of a desiel truck. Two thing were very apperent, that the two tailed cat was some kind of cat leader and that we shouldn't be hear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the giant grey two tailed cat began to speak we were in awe of what we heard.  He spoke of how the ignorant humans &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;stubbornly&lt;/span&gt; destroyed the natural habitat of the native ally cats &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;blaming&lt;/span&gt; the humans for cleaning the streets and not throwing out as many scraps.  I was no doubt that the evil gaint grey two tailed cat was planning some kind of revolution and it was even mor obvious that he was well of his rocker.  As Jeff and I slowly began to make our overdue escape Jeff unfortunatly caught an old nail that tripped upon the wooden floor.   The echo throughout the warehouse easily drowned out the speaker cats feeble voice.  We darted for the nearest exit, about 35 yards away through a wide empty hallway.  Evil cats quickly began flooded through the doorway that we had hidden in as we watched the congregation.  After kicking in the door at the end of the hallway we found ourselves in a large storeroom almost the size of a football field.  Evil cats were already entering from doors from across the room and we were fully surrounded.  Luckily both Jeff and I had brought along our fully automatic rifles, .44 magnum handguns and several gernades apeice.  We fought off the cats for several minutes but soon realized that the cats themselves outnumbered the amount of ammo we had.  It was then that I noticed the moonlight shining into our battlefield.  I looked up and saw that the roof was long gone.  "up these old racks" I yelled at jeff as I started to climb towards the ceiling.  The cats followed us closely and I could hear the fatique in Jeffs breathing, since being addicted to twinkies he didn't have the endurance he once had.  I reached the top and turned to give him my hand and pull him up.  Just before I clasped his hand the evil cats caught him from behind, he fell into the sea of evil cats below.  The cats were but feet from reaching the top to I leaped to a remaining part of the roof and raced away looking for a way to ground level.  The cloudy sky now covered the moon and the way was dark.  Cats swarmed around me and I began to lose hope, soon I would be reunited with Jeff.  Then luck came my way as large droplettes of rain began falling around me, first lightly and then harder and harder.  The cats quickly retreted back into the warehouse and I took no time to put as much distance between myself and that place as I could.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-6391930279677671282?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/6391930279677671282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=6391930279677671282' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/6391930279677671282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/6391930279677671282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2009/05/tale-of-cat-with-two-tails.html' title='The Tale of the Cat with Two Tails'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-6904434420868158926</id><published>2009-05-01T08:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T08:44:28.756-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Swine Flu</title><content type='html'>I think that the swine flu suck, but it could be a lot worse.  I would really be tripping if it was like zombies.  Like on that movie 28 days later, the zombies on that movie like sprint at full speed and just strait up eat yo butt ya know.   That would stink.  The main charactor in that movie woke up in a hospital were somebody had locked him in and slid the key under the door.  They totally saved his life.  He totally died right after he got out though... no not really he live for a while.  The movie was pretty good though.  Anyway, at least its no like that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-6904434420868158926?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/6904434420868158926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=6904434420868158926' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/6904434420868158926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/6904434420868158926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2009/05/swine-flu.html' title='Swine Flu'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-4590661013419101794</id><published>2009-04-08T08:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T08:45:50.465-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Teacher</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Mrs. Lackey my 5th grade teacher in Aspermont was a really good teacher.  She always seemed to teach you without you even knowing you were learning at all.  She was really nice and always had fun activities to help us with the lesson.  She is defiantly my second coolest teacher behind only Mrs. K of course because she is hands down the bestess ever.&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/986723820101732844-4590661013419101794?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4590661013419101794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=4590661013419101794' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/4590661013419101794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/4590661013419101794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2009/04/teacher.html' title='Teacher'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-3476309560848628962</id><published>2009-03-13T08:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T08:57:14.105-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Missing Person</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SbqCSq7HvDI/AAAAAAAAABY/rIjb6zXQwII/s1600-h/Picture+1.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 100px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SbqCSq7HvDI/AAAAAAAAABY/rIjb6zXQwII/s320/Picture+1.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312701967708437554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-3476309560848628962?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/3476309560848628962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=3476309560848628962' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/3476309560848628962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/3476309560848628962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2009/03/missing-person.html' title='The Missing Person'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SbqCSq7HvDI/AAAAAAAAABY/rIjb6zXQwII/s72-c/Picture+1.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-6397788147026499779</id><published>2009-03-11T08:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T09:01:30.134-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Evil Flying Monkeys attack of CHS.</title><content type='html'>This is a poem about the time I saved our school from the evil flying monkeys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;One fateful day in late July&lt;br /&gt; A pack of flying monkeys came by way of the bright blue sky.&lt;br /&gt;With destruction on their mind and hate in their eye,&lt;br /&gt;They swooped onto CHS to just stop by.&lt;br /&gt;Little did they know that I lay awaiting,&lt;br /&gt;To give them a long overdue berating.&lt;br /&gt;As swarmed by the hundreds to destroy our schoo,&lt;br /&gt;I raised my 12 gauge and my shot was true.&lt;br /&gt;I quickly expended all of my shells,&lt;br /&gt;As they withdrew into the skies with angry yells.&lt;br /&gt;Again they attacked in quite a hurry,&lt;br /&gt;with no time to reload I used my fists of furry.&lt;br /&gt;They bit and clawed at my skin,&lt;br /&gt;as I repeatedly clocked them in their chin.&lt;br /&gt;As wave upon wave attacked hour after hour,&lt;br /&gt;My attitude grew all the more sour.&lt;br /&gt;When my strength slowly began to stray,&lt;br /&gt;I opened my Gatorade and quickly put it away.&lt;br /&gt;Now that I was completely replenished,&lt;br /&gt;It was time for these evil monkeys to be diminished.&lt;br /&gt;Their limp lifeless bodies piled higher and higher,&lt;br /&gt;The fight in their eyes began to retire.&lt;br /&gt;Finally the evil flying monkey leader,&lt;br /&gt;Said "we must flee from this vicious life reaper".&lt;br /&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/986723820101732844-6397788147026499779?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/6397788147026499779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=6397788147026499779' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/6397788147026499779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/6397788147026499779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2009/03/evil-flying-monkeys-attack-of-chs.html' title='Evil Flying Monkeys attack of CHS.'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-4987315251908799595</id><published>2009-03-10T08:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T09:01:50.075-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Salem</title><content type='html'>If I was accused of witchcraft in Salem I would run away and never come back.  I wouldn't wait around for all those crazy little girls to point the finger at me, I would sell my belongings and jet.  If I were accused before I could leave then I would try to pick the locks and run.  I don't think I would admit to witchcraft to save my life.  but I guess you never no intill you're their.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-4987315251908799595?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4987315251908799595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=4987315251908799595' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/4987315251908799595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/4987315251908799595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2009/03/salem.html' title='Salem'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-273150641392220904</id><published>2009-02-27T08:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T09:00:53.767-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nerf Factory Riot</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SagcLDXLMEI/AAAAAAAAABI/woLne0KYdaI/s1600-h/Picture+1.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 221px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SagcLDXLMEI/AAAAAAAAABI/woLne0KYdaI/s320/Picture+1.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307523137062776898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-273150641392220904?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/273150641392220904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=273150641392220904' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/273150641392220904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/273150641392220904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2009/02/nerf-factory-riot.html' title='Nerf Factory Riot'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SagcLDXLMEI/AAAAAAAAABI/woLne0KYdaI/s72-c/Picture+1.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-1747433268180346869</id><published>2009-02-26T09:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T11:06:38.638-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring</title><content type='html'>10 things I love about spring&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1-The warmth!!!&lt;br /&gt;2-High School is coming to a close.  (for good)&lt;br /&gt;3-I don't have to take taks.&lt;br /&gt;4-spring break.&lt;br /&gt;5-classes start to relax&lt;br /&gt;6-land judging starts, now its chickens though.&lt;br /&gt;7-basketball playoffs.&lt;br /&gt;8-then baseball.&lt;br /&gt;9-It doesnt get dark as fast.&lt;br /&gt;10-I can start making money again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-1747433268180346869?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/1747433268180346869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=1747433268180346869' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/1747433268180346869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/1747433268180346869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2009/02/spring.html' title='Spring'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-4897704590554762723</id><published>2009-02-02T07:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T11:05:14.464-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Parents</title><content type='html'>1-I am thankful for changed diapers (Breeding, Creede)&lt;br /&gt;2-Han Solo action figure&lt;br /&gt;3-My first bike&lt;br /&gt;4-For feeding me.&lt;br /&gt;5-for my PS1&lt;br /&gt;6-my playhouse&lt;br /&gt;7-my own room&lt;br /&gt;8-my old golf clubs&lt;br /&gt;9-all the beanie babies&lt;br /&gt;10-watching jurassic park with me a hundred times&lt;br /&gt;11-giving me candy&lt;br /&gt;12-paying for my hair cut&lt;br /&gt;13-getting me my tv&lt;br /&gt;14-a few tanks of gas&lt;br /&gt;15-my fan&lt;br /&gt;16-my socks&lt;br /&gt;17-tires&lt;br /&gt;18-wiring&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-4897704590554762723?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4897704590554762723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=4897704590554762723' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/4897704590554762723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/4897704590554762723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2009/02/parents.html' title='Parents'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-4430181520440781696</id><published>2009-01-16T08:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T08:37:50.427-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Man Sales his Daughter</title><content type='html'>Police have arrested a Greenfield man for allegedly arranging to sell his 14-year-old daughter into marriage in exchange for $16,000, 100 cases of beer and several cases of meat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Police said they only learned of the deal after the 36-year-old man went to them to get his daughter back because &lt;a itxtdid="7106936" target="_blank" href="http://able2know.org/topic/127970-1#" style="border-bottom: 0.075em solid darkgreen ! important; font-weight: normal ! important; font-size: 100% ! important; text-decoration: underline ! important; padding-bottom: 1px ! important; color: darkgreen ! important; background-color: transparent ! important;" classname="iAs" class="iAs"&gt;payment&lt;/a&gt; wasn't made as promised. The man was arrested Sunday on suspicion of human trafficking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-4430181520440781696?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4430181520440781696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=4430181520440781696' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/4430181520440781696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/4430181520440781696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2009/01/man-sales-his-daughter.html' title='Man Sales his Daughter'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-3431502034556801792</id><published>2009-01-13T08:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T09:01:21.589-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dog Story</title><content type='html'>I was at my Adam's 5th birthday party at the local park.  Adam is my master's son.  While we were at the park, all the humans were enjoying their sweet treats, when I noticed a pack of strays hanging around some nearby bushes.  It was obvious they were up to no good by the look in their eyes.  I barked several times to let them know that they had better keep their distance, or else.  My master didn't like my barking, apparently he didn't see the strays, he chained me to a nearby tree.  It wasn't long after my chaining the strays attacked.  They went to to strikes, one group went for the cake and cookies, they were simply a decoy.  The other group went after Adam, the strays had a grudge against my master for some reason.  I pulled as hard as I could and was finally able to break the chains that held me to pathetic tree I was chained to.  I chased down the group of strays that had kidnapped Adam.  I chased them to a dead end alley.  They turned, ready for a fight to a death.  It was three on one, I didn't care for my chances.  I attacked first going for the smallest of the three.  I latched on to his throat and jerked with all my might.  I heard him squeel and go limp in my clasp.  The other two came at my flanks and bit and clawed my ribs and legs.  I kicked the one to my left away and turned to face the leader who had came at my right.  I went in and bit at his nose and ears; he gashed my eye with his front paw which hindered my vision.  Now my back was to the wall and the two strays were about to pounce; this was going to be my last stand, I needed a miracle.  When from the end of the alley I heard my masters voice call "Adam.....Rex".  He had a wooden baseball bat in his hand and a look of rage in his eye.  After the strays ran off my master carried Adam back to his vehicle and even let me sit shotgun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-3431502034556801792?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/3431502034556801792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=3431502034556801792' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/3431502034556801792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/3431502034556801792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2009/01/dog-story.html' title='Dog Story'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-766226862753004919</id><published>2008-12-12T07:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T07:17:16.117-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Room 101</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SUKAb9HC2nI/AAAAAAAAAAw/Z-KQuQiCJmY/s1600-h/scary_room.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SUKAb9HC2nI/AAAAAAAAAAw/Z-KQuQiCJmY/s320/scary_room.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278922930980575858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my room 101 would probably be spiders because they freak me out.  All those legs are just unnatural.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-766226862753004919?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/766226862753004919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=766226862753004919' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/766226862753004919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/766226862753004919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2008/12/room-101.html' title='Room 101'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SUKAb9HC2nI/AAAAAAAAAAw/Z-KQuQiCJmY/s72-c/scary_room.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-5153723015171626012</id><published>2008-12-05T07:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T07:33:05.550-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Kitten Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/STlFjh-ICNI/AAAAAAAAAAo/EgkfDlSsgtY/s1600-h/ChristmasKitten1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 234px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/STlFjh-ICNI/AAAAAAAAAAo/EgkfDlSsgtY/s320/ChristmasKitten1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276324915157928146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This kitten reminds me of the time when I saved a small village in eastern Europe from a pack of giant bloodthirsty kittens.  I was traveling the the country side minding my own business, when I came into a town.  The majority of the population had taken refuge in a large church near the center of the village.  I entered the church to find out what was going on.  They welcomed me coldly as though I was an agent of the kittens or some kind of spy.  After learning of how the murderous kittens had destroyed and ravaged the town I grew hot with rage.  I set out the next morning to stop these vile creatures from harming the town ever again.  I carried with me only my walking stick as a weapon.  Upon entering the evil kittens lair I stealthily progressed through the maze of caves and tunnels.  When I finally came to the large cavern that the demonic kittens inhabited I went  blind white with rage and attacked without mercy.  I woke up in the church two weeks later.  Apparently I had slew the kittens but sometime in the battle the horrible beasts had bitten both of my legs clean off.  They said that after I didn't return for a week they thought I was dead.  But when the kittens didn't attack they came looking for me.  Luckily for me a master surgeon lived in the village and was able to reattach my legs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="file:///Users/bbowman/Desktop/ChristmasKitten1-1.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-5153723015171626012?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/5153723015171626012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=5153723015171626012' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/5153723015171626012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/5153723015171626012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2008/12/kitten-story.html' title='Kitten Story'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/STlFjh-ICNI/AAAAAAAAAAo/EgkfDlSsgtY/s72-c/ChristmasKitten1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-953789506222329462</id><published>2008-11-25T07:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T07:07:01.554-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving</title><content type='html'>Well if there is one thing that my family knows how to do it is cook.  I love the turkey and gravy, mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, the hot rolls... my family can cook.   My personal favorite at thanksgiving is probably the turkey and gravy and hot rolls.  I also love the chocolate pies, we always have at least 2 chocolate pies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite things about thanksgiving break are...&lt;br /&gt;1-The "Crazy Good" food&lt;br /&gt;2-Getting together with family&lt;br /&gt;3-Watching Thanksgiving day football.&lt;br /&gt;4-sleeping in through the break&lt;br /&gt;5-the cool weather&lt;br /&gt;6-playing football in the back yard&lt;br /&gt;7-staying up late.&lt;br /&gt;8-chilling with friends.&lt;br /&gt;9-The "Amazing" food.&lt;br /&gt;10-No School.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-953789506222329462?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/953789506222329462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=953789506222329462' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/953789506222329462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/953789506222329462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2008/11/thanksgiving.html' title='Thanksgiving'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-139147610869827309</id><published>2008-11-21T07:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T07:00:13.191-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>1-Maci- It brightens my day just to see her smile.&lt;br /&gt;2-Mom- Takes care of me even when I don't take care of myself.&lt;br /&gt;3-Dad- Stands behind me in what I do. (and let me know when I screw up)&lt;br /&gt;4-Salvy- has totally saved me on several occasions.&lt;br /&gt;5-Jake- I know I can always call if I needa vent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-139147610869827309?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/139147610869827309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=139147610869827309' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/139147610869827309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/139147610869827309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2008/11/1-maci-it-brightens-my-day-just-to-see.html' title=''/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-7985748106710296252</id><published>2008-11-07T07:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T07:13:18.632-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Senior night</title><content type='html'>I don't get to play my last home game in Fair Park Stadium this week because I pulled the heck out of my hamstring last week against Friona.  It really sucks that the last home game I would have ever had the chance to play in with a childress jersey I have to sit out.  My mother and I have spent 2 hours a day working to rehab my hamstring and get it playable as soon as possible.  Hopefully, if everything goes well and my muscle heals quickly I will be able to play our first playoff game next week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-7985748106710296252?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/7985748106710296252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=7985748106710296252' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/7985748106710296252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/7985748106710296252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2008/11/senior-night.html' title='Senior night'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-5772300749401035603</id><published>2008-10-31T07:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T07:21:04.508-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Maybe banning the costumes altogether was a little extreme, but the guy who wore the Hitler costume should have thought of the people he would be affending when he did.  Maybe he and a few others thought it was funny but when you dress up as someone who killed millions of people you better get ready for some recoil.  Dressing up like a killer from some movie is one thing;  Hitler and the Holocaust actually happened and people still feel the effect of it today.  I think that wearing the Hitler costume to a school with a large number of Jewish students was pretty stupid.  If someone wore it to childress then it probably wouldn't be as big of a deal but if there were Jewish student then they would probably be pretty angry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ten Reasons why I like Halloween&lt;br /&gt;1-Candy&lt;br /&gt;2-Dressing up&lt;br /&gt;3-haunted houses&lt;br /&gt;4-scaring people&lt;br /&gt;5-scaring movies&lt;br /&gt;6-weather is getting cooler&lt;br /&gt;7-candy&lt;br /&gt;8-thanksgiving is getting close. lol i like thanksgiving.&lt;br /&gt;9-playoff season is closing in.&lt;br /&gt;10-candy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-5772300749401035603?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/5772300749401035603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=5772300749401035603' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/5772300749401035603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/5772300749401035603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2008/10/maybe-banning-costumes-altogether-was.html' title=''/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-8651578666405988570</id><published>2008-10-24T07:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T06:57:44.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Coach Rhodes</title><content type='html'>One time freshman year after a freshman football game coach Rhodes said that I played a good game; that was the only compliment I got from him intill my Junior year.  Now he lets me no when I do something good, likewise he will let me know when I'm doing something wronge to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-8651578666405988570?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/8651578666405988570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=8651578666405988570' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/8651578666405988570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/8651578666405988570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2008/10/coach-rhodes.html' title='Coach Rhodes'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-5685595608853438668</id><published>2008-10-10T06:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T07:12:55.248-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Story (i not much of a storyteller)</title><content type='html'>It was a bright cool morning in a small west Texas town.  As Bobby rolled over to stop his extremely annoying alarm clock, he groaned remembering it was another Friday.  School was bleak that day and all anybody was thinking about was the football game.  Bobby, who once loved to play football had found his desire dwindle during their less than perfect season thus far.  Now that district was here the pressure was even more intense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pregame was all but perfect as the Bobcats whooped and hollered.  They hadn't played a team like this all year.  They lost the coin toss and so the bobcats, unfortunately for bobby had to receive the ball.  As bobby lined up behind the center in the shotgun he scanned the bobcat defense.  the play called just might work.  As he screamed "hike" the players sprung into action and bodies were flying.  He took the snap and scramble right, he had the edge.  When out of nowhere a huge hairy man picked him up off the ground and slung him to the ground, then 350 pounds landed right on top of him.  Poor Bobby never got over the ghastly hit big nasty hicks laid on him that night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-5685595608853438668?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/5685595608853438668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=5685595608853438668' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/5685595608853438668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/5685595608853438668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2008/10/story-i-not-much-of-storyteller.html' title='Story (i not much of a storyteller)'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-726019653341348270</id><published>2008-10-03T07:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T07:26:27.807-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday</title><content type='html'>I guess one of the best birthdays I've ever had was about 2 years ago when my parents through me a surprise birthday party at the swimming pool.  I usually don't do anything special for my birthday, but that was a fun birthday party.  I never saw it coming either, I thought I was just dropping my little brother off at the pool for something and then it turned out there was a huge party for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-726019653341348270?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/726019653341348270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=726019653341348270' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/726019653341348270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/726019653341348270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2008/10/birthday.html' title='Birthday'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-896885475198248350</id><published>2008-09-19T06:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T07:04:11.652-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fridays</title><content type='html'>1- Is obviously because of the football games, I love to get out on the field and compete.  As a football team we work hard all week to get ready and play that weeks opponent; and getting to take what you've done all week and apply it to the game is something I always look forward to. &lt;br /&gt;2-Its the last day of school for that week.&lt;br /&gt;3-Tomorrow is Saturday and I'll get to sleep a little later.&lt;br /&gt;4-Friday nights after home games just hanging out with friends.&lt;br /&gt;5-Fridays always seem to be more relaxed at school.&lt;br /&gt;6-Pep rallies&lt;br /&gt;7-You have something to look forward to do during the weekend, on mondays you wake up dreading the entire week.  Fridays you know the weekend is nearly here.&lt;br /&gt;8-Did i meantion the football games?&lt;br /&gt;9-Fridays mean no school tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;10-Fridays are just the single greatest day of the week.  when you put all these things together, you just get a great day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-896885475198248350?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/896885475198248350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=896885475198248350' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/896885475198248350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/896885475198248350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2008/09/fridays.html' title='Fridays'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-9080409537573655856</id><published>2008-09-12T07:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T07:31:24.238-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Future</title><content type='html'>When you get to your junior and senior years of high school people start asking you things about what you want to do when you graduate; they all fail to understand that the only thing I'm looking forward to upon graduation is leaving.  Its not a hatred for this town that most of my generation feel its a need to have freedom.  I honestly don't know where I'll be when I'm 30.  The truth is I don't ever think about it.  Where would I like to be in 15 years?  Hopefully I'll be married the girl of my dreams, be financially secure and maybe be starting a family.  But maybe thats not how it turns out, maybe I'm broke, or maybe no kids.  Whatever happens I know that I'm not going to waste my one life doing things I don't love.  Living life pessimistically isn't for me, I'm an optimistic person.  The cup isn't half empty its half full.  In the end I don't care where I end up in 10, 15, 0r 20 years, as long as I'm happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-9080409537573655856?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/9080409537573655856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=9080409537573655856' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/9080409537573655856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/9080409537573655856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2008/09/future.html' title='Future'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-4145932382802496058</id><published>2008-09-05T07:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T07:33:15.324-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bonfire!</title><content type='html'>Your senior bonfire is something you look forward to all four years of your high school career.  I never have really cared much, and in till this year I couldn't have cared less about the bonfire.  Even me the guy thats never put a stick into the bonfire that past few years looked forward to going to my senior bonfire.  Your senior bonfire (to football players anyway) is equivalent if not more important than your senior prom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is, in my opinion, just another way people in the generation above us (with some exceptions) think that they're making the world better by taking away privileges from the youth because they're so sure we're gunna screw it up or make the wrong decision.  Because a few people are stupid enough to to mess around in the still smoldering ashes of a bonfire doesn't  mean they should all be totally outlawed.  More people die from tobacco than from bonfires, so why not outlaw that?  What about driving?  This is sort of how they took our hour long lunches from us last year.  A few students were doing things they shouldn't have been and so what do they do?  They punish everybody by taking our lunches, and then they say "well you still have 40 minutes.  Ha thats a joke!  try 35 minutes, and when it takes 10 to get outta the parking lot and 15 more waiting on food.  That makes abouta 10 minute lunch brake.  Those people that screw it up for the rest of us usually aren't going to say "well no bonfires so I guess I won't play with fire" or "only 10 minutes left of lunch, I guess I won't get stoned before I go back to school."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/986723820101732844-4145932382802496058?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4145932382802496058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=4145932382802496058' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/4145932382802496058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/4145932382802496058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2008/09/bonfire.html' title='Bonfire!'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-986723820101732844.post-7971264049635140369</id><published>2008-08-29T06:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T07:11:35.778-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First Week</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"  &gt;The first week of my senior year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Its not exactly how I always pictured my senior year would be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I figured Id just take a bunch of easy classes and shop classes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"  &gt;But it hasn't turned out that way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Now I'm stuck in college History, college Government and Chem II.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I'm practically a full time college student.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"  &gt;The History and Government I could do.&lt;br /&gt;But this Chemistry is gunna put the hurt'in on me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"  &gt;There are lots of things to look forward to though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Such as Friday nights, basketball, baseball, and it being my last year of school.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"  &gt;My schedule is sorta wak.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"  &gt;There is a total of 7 people in my first 2 classes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"  &gt;3rd period is pretty cool.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"  &gt;4th period I go to the media center and work on my online Government class.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"  &gt;5th period I go to the elementary and help coach Gaylor with p.e.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"  &gt;6th is the worst though, and its ART!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"  &gt;7th period is History...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Athletics is a day to day thing, one day I can't wait for it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"  &gt;And the next day I'll dread it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I can't see the future or anything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:webdings;font-size:85%;"  &gt;But I'm starting to think senior year isn't going to be all its cracked up to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&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/986723820101732844-7971264049635140369?l=brantsblogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/feeds/7971264049635140369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=986723820101732844&amp;postID=7971264049635140369' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/7971264049635140369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/986723820101732844/posts/default/7971264049635140369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brantsblogs.blogspot.com/2008/08/first-week.html' title='First Week'/><author><name>Brant</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06891298253040003938</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3JiN6D72QJg/SLazfzAoirI/AAAAAAAAAAM/cG2SFoz4r0k/S220/Photo+1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
