<?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-3705575</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:48:06.245-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Follow the White Rabbit</title><subtitle type='html'>...when the men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go, and you've just had some kind of mushroom and your mind is moving low...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://white_rabbit.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://white_rabbit.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Bunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11349506498584788828</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>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3705575.post-83023369</id><published>2002-10-15T13:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-10-15T13:57:56.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;B&gt;I have a date on Friday!!!&lt;/B&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Henry had a party on Saturday and invited some people he works with and Daniel just happened to be one of them.  It was kinda romance novel kinda thing at the beginning, our eyes met across the room, some guy spilled his drink on me and Daniel was there with a napkin.  Very sweet.  And it's Daniel, not Danny which is good, then I won't confuse him with Danny the supernerd when I reflect on my love life in the future.  Unless he turns out to be "the one" and I won't have to wallow in my misery anymore!  We'll see.  For now, I'm just glad he's straight, or Henry would be going on a date with him and I'd be complaining that all the good ones are taken or gay.  I think Daniel might be the one to prove that old saying wrong ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3705575-83023369?l=white_rabbit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/83023369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/83023369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://white_rabbit.blogspot.com/2002_10_13_archive.html#83023369' title=''/><author><name>Bunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11349506498584788828</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-3705575.post-82745267</id><published>2002-10-09T12:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-10-09T12:21:44.063-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've become everything I've ever hated...  This morning I was super grumpy and basically a total bitch untill I had a cup of coffee and a cigarette.  That has never happened to me before and I'm kinda thinkin it has something to do with me PMSing or something.  Cos I'm not a mean person.  And I'm not a bitch, I'm a sweetheart really... *batting my eyelashes*&lt;br /&gt;Agh, maybe it's just my addictive personality finally kicking in.  Maybe next week I'll be downing three martinis before getting out of bed, who knows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3705575-82745267?l=white_rabbit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/82745267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/82745267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://white_rabbit.blogspot.com/2002_10_06_archive.html#82745267' title=''/><author><name>Bunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11349506498584788828</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-3705575.post-82512041</id><published>2002-10-04T08:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-10-04T08:18:20.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Audrey just sent me &lt;a href="http://www.manikus.com/mixed/lego/"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;.  I think it's funny!&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the site doesn't make much sense tho...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3705575-82512041?l=white_rabbit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/82512041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/82512041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://white_rabbit.blogspot.com/2002_09_29_archive.html#82512041' title=''/><author><name>Bunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11349506498584788828</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-3705575.post-82474935</id><published>2002-10-03T13:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-10-03T13:30:40.746-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Oh my god, this week has been a total nightmare, I think I will go home tonight and soak in the tub.  I've been trying to train this new girl who just started working with me and I just can't do it.  She's 18 years old and she makes me feel like I'm anchient.  I'M 24 FOR CHRISSAKE!  And she can't get her little blond head around anything I say to her (I'm not saying it's because she's blond, I'm a blond too...), I try to explain to her that there's just one printer on our floor that works right now but she keeps standing in front of the one that doesn't work and doesn't understand why her papers don't come out.  Aaaaaaaaaagh...  this is driving me nuts.  I usually try to get along with people, but she is beyond getting along with.  I think I'm gonna have to tell Mrs.Peterson that this is not going to work out...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3705575-82474935?l=white_rabbit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/82474935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/82474935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://white_rabbit.blogspot.com/2002_09_29_archive.html#82474935' title=''/><author><name>Bunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11349506498584788828</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-3705575.post-82322376</id><published>2002-09-30T13:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-10-01T10:35:10.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>October???  Tomorrow?  But how can that be?&lt;br /&gt;I know time is relative and all, but there is just no way that we've already gone through 3/4 of the year already.  This is a very startling discovery, since one of my new years resolutions was to start my christmas shopping in October so I wouldn't be flat broke in December.  That means I have to start thinking about christmas.  Boy, time flies when you're having fun.  I must have had a blast this year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3705575-82322376?l=white_rabbit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/82322376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/82322376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://white_rabbit.blogspot.com/2002_09_29_archive.html#82322376' title=''/><author><name>Bunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11349506498584788828</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-3705575.post-82098821</id><published>2002-09-25T11:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-09-25T11:50:14.176-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>While most people think Monday is the day to dislike, I tend to be a bit more grumpy on Wednesdays.  Mondays I can deal with, 'cos I've just had two whole days to prepare for it, but on Wednesdays I've been working for 2 days and still have 3 more to go and that just makes me sad...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3705575-82098821?l=white_rabbit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/82098821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/82098821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://white_rabbit.blogspot.com/2002_09_22_archive.html#82098821' title=''/><author><name>Bunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11349506498584788828</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-3705575.post-82052397</id><published>2002-09-24T13:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-09-24T13:55:49.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>You know what I hate about bloggers?  People who name their blogs in English but write the whole thing in a completely diffrent language, so that when you click on a blog with an intresting title, you don't understand a word of it.  Except for the title.  Why can't people just use their own languages instead of teasing us with an enticing title and making us look at a page that doesn't make sense.  I mean, it takes about three seconds to click on a page and open it, so all you guys out there with an English title on a foreign blog, you took 3 seconds of my life and I want them back...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, never mind, I'd only waste them anyway...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3705575-82052397?l=white_rabbit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/82052397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/82052397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://white_rabbit.blogspot.com/2002_09_22_archive.html#82052397' title=''/><author><name>Bunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11349506498584788828</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-3705575.post-81831919</id><published>2002-09-19T14:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-09-19T14:18:01.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I got an e-mail asking me if the story was really about me.  No, it's not.  It's fiction and I am not a snob, my dating record shows that I've been on dates with an investment banker, a musician, a plumber, a cop and some others.  I generally like people who are comfortable with themselves, because that's who I'm gonna be with.  What a person does for a living means nothing to me, if they're comfortable with who they are and where they are in life, that's soooo much more important.  I have my own crummy job to go to, I don't have to sit and think about someone elses, now do I?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3705575-81831919?l=white_rabbit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/81831919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/81831919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://white_rabbit.blogspot.com/2002_09_15_archive.html#81831919' title=''/><author><name>Bunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11349506498584788828</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-3705575.post-81784537</id><published>2002-09-18T15:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-09-18T15:09:42.490-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I got comments... Comments anyone???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3705575-81784537?l=white_rabbit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/81784537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/81784537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://white_rabbit.blogspot.com/2002_09_15_archive.html#81784537' title=''/><author><name>Bunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11349506498584788828</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-3705575.post-81777185</id><published>2002-09-18T12:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-09-18T12:14:25.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I love to read &lt;a href="http://www.davezilla.com"target=new"&gt;Davezilla&lt;/a&gt; and inspired by him, I wrote my very own "Worst Date Ever" story.  Here goes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever had a blind date from hell?  Well, I have.  Literally.&lt;br /&gt;Dave from work set me up with Bob, a guy he said was his golfing buddy from the country club.  Dave told me he was perfect for me, charming, handsome and smart, just the way I like them!  So I agreed to this and called Bob up on Tuesday night and we arranged to meet at Spantini's, the hot new restaurant in town, on Friday night.  He sounded great on the phone and I was really looking forward to meeting him on Friday.  So I asked him how I would recognize him and he said he would be holding a red rose and if that wasn't enough, he was the one with the horns.&lt;br /&gt;That Friday night I went to Spantini's and looked for the man with the rose and horns, and there he was.  He was really good looking and the horns weren't even that noticeable.  So we started the pre-dinner chatter.&lt;br /&gt;"So where are you from" I asked him.&lt;br /&gt;"Oh well, I have a place in LA, New York, London... pretty much every major city, but originally, I'm from Hell."&lt;br /&gt;"Hell??  Well, that would explain the horns," I said with a little laugh.&lt;br /&gt;"Oh yeah, that's pretty standard down there, everybody's got them,"  he said and smiled.  He had a very cute smile.&lt;br /&gt;"And what do you do?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;"I'm a collector for The Master"&lt;br /&gt;"And what do you collect?"&lt;br /&gt;"Souls mostly.  I have to travel a lot, but I like that."&lt;br /&gt;"I see, that's very intresting."&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I think so too.  I've been doing that for about 3000 years now."&lt;br /&gt;As soon as he said that I knew it would never work.  I mean, I just can't see myself in a relationship with a man who has no carrier ambition.&lt;br /&gt;The End.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm actually just writing this from memory, I have it all written down at home somewhere, so maybe I'll edit it someday...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3705575-81777185?l=white_rabbit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/81777185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/81777185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://white_rabbit.blogspot.com/2002_09_15_archive.html#81777185' title=''/><author><name>Bunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11349506498584788828</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-3705575.post-81723885</id><published>2002-09-17T10:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-09-24T14:05:58.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I just found out a few days ago that one of my best friends is pregnant.  Yay, I'm gonna be an auntie!  &lt;br /&gt;I kinda have 3 groups of friends; in one, I'm the youngest one and the only one who doesn't have any kids, but I like that.  I can be cool aunt "Rabbit" who spoils their kids and takes them to the park and lets them stay up late, but doesn't have to change diapers or deal with them while they're throwing tantrums at the supermarket.  We all worked together a few years back and back then three out of seven had kids.  Now, two weddings and 5 babies later there's just me who's left single and child-free!  But the thing I like the most about these guys is that they've never ever asked me how my love life is or tried to set me up with somebodys lame cousin.  They totally recognize the fact that I'm younger than they are and it's not what I want.&lt;br /&gt;Then there's the "Three Single Girls and One Gay Guy in a Relationship (altough it's a diffrent relationship just about every other month)" group which is the most fun one.  Not to say that my other friends aren't fun, but these are the people I can call on a whim and ask them to go skinny dipping in the lake or watch Spaceballs for the gazillionth time.  And since we're all single, we can be out of the house 5 minutes after we think of something fun to do.  I like that!&lt;br /&gt;And last but not least, there's the ever so small group of me and Audrey.  We were roommates for about 2 seconds in an apartment that was so disgusting that I can't even begin to describe it.  Audrey has her friends and I have mine, but she's the only one who knows I smoke weed.  So it's good to have someone who you can kick back with, relax and smoke a joint.  And now there's Henry too...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what I'm trying to say is that I know a lot of diffrent types of people, and it only makes me know myself better.  I can explore diffrent sides of myself depending on whether I'm with my pregnant friend, the new mom, the gay man or the law student.  They all make me think diffrent things about me and that's a good thing.  I can't think of a better way to learn.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3705575-81723885?l=white_rabbit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/81723885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/81723885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://white_rabbit.blogspot.com/2002_09_15_archive.html#81723885' title=''/><author><name>Bunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11349506498584788828</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-3705575.post-81466188</id><published>2002-09-11T14:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-09-12T12:33:46.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So, here I am, 24 years old, pain in the ass low income job, living in the worlds smallest apartment, never had a serious boyfriend...  Does this sound pathetic?  Well, it's not.  I don't think I'd trade my life for anything right about now, because non of this matters to me.  24 years old, well that's nothing.  It's not even half a lifetime, no need to be stressed about that.  My job?  Well, actually, it's not that bad.  The hours are good and the people are nice and I do get the chance to surf the net every now and then.  Plus I am going back to collage someday so it's not like I'm stuck here forever, yay!  The apartment... OK, I could do with a bit more space and maybe my pictures would look nicer hanging on walls that didn't have stains on them, but it's home.  My home.  And about the boyfriend issue?  Let's just say I'm not ready to give up the remote control without a fight!  I've had my share of flings and one night stands, but I don't want that anymore.  And I don't want a boyfriend either.  I own a powerdrill and a vibrator and I can use both just fine ;)  But not at the same time of course...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there you have it.  Things aren't always as bad they seem.  Just take a closer look at what you have and make the best of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3705575-81466188?l=white_rabbit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/81466188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/81466188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://white_rabbit.blogspot.com/2002_09_08_archive.html#81466188' title=''/><author><name>Bunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11349506498584788828</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-3705575.post-81414913</id><published>2002-09-10T14:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-09-10T14:36:10.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Oh, does anyone know how to make those comment thingies at the bottom of each post???  &lt;a href="mailto:whiterabbit840@hotmail.com"&gt;Plz help...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3705575-81414913?l=white_rabbit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/81414913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/81414913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://white_rabbit.blogspot.com/2002_09_08_archive.html#81414913' title=''/><author><name>Bunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11349506498584788828</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-3705575.post-81412051</id><published>2002-09-10T13:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-09-10T13:20:53.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's raining.  I love when it rains for days like it's never going to end.&lt;br /&gt;I'm going out tonight with my new friend, Henry.  Audrey brought him to my "party" on Friday, which wasn't really a party, just a few potheads getting together and watching old cartoons.  But it was so much fun and I made a new friend, Henry.  He's gay.  Like the rest of my male friends.  I don't know if that's good or bad.  Maybe I should try to find at least one straight male friend.  It's just... Where do you find one?  &lt;br /&gt;If you know where I can find one, or if you are a straight man who wants to be my friend, just pop me an &lt;a href="mailto:whiterabbit840@hotmail.com"&gt;email&lt;/a&gt; and we'll work something out ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3705575-81412051?l=white_rabbit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/81412051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/81412051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://white_rabbit.blogspot.com/2002_09_08_archive.html#81412051' title=''/><author><name>Bunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11349506498584788828</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-3705575.post-81358610</id><published>2002-09-09T11:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-09-09T12:33:02.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I had a dream last night about this guy I used to go out with.  Actually we didn't really go out, we just went out for coffee a few times, smoked weed a few times and had sex a few times until he told me that his girlfriend who he thought had given up on him was about to move half way across the planet to give him a second chance.  It was totally fine by me, we had nothing in common and he was using way to much drugs for me to be really intrested in him, but he was good in bed and really good looking so it was more of an ego boost than a relationship thing.  &lt;br /&gt;So I haven't heard from him for like forever, he called a few weeks back but I didn't pick up, thank god for caller ID!  And then I have this totally fucked up dream where he calls me (and I actually answer) and tells me that his girlfriend is gone again and he's still thinking about me and he wants me to be his girlfriend and I say yes.  That's definitly the first sign that it's a dream!  Then I don't really remember a whole lot more, just that he was taking me from place to place trying to score drugs.&lt;br /&gt;I just thought it was funny, 'cos in real life, I'd never do that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3705575-81358610?l=white_rabbit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/81358610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/81358610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://white_rabbit.blogspot.com/2002_09_08_archive.html#81358610' title=''/><author><name>Bunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11349506498584788828</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-3705575.post-81140082</id><published>2002-09-04T10:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-09-10T13:39:49.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Finally I'm getting this thing started.  I've been blogging for a while now, but I kinda feel like there are some things that I just can't say when I know my friends and family are going to read it.  But this one is just for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3705575-81140082?l=white_rabbit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/81140082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3705575/posts/default/81140082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://white_rabbit.blogspot.com/2002_09_01_archive.html#81140082' title=''/><author><name>Bunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11349506498584788828</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>
