<?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-11368560</id><updated>2011-07-07T18:30:41.815-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Jordan Johnston</title><subtitle type='html'>Some good, solid documentation of a few of my happenstances</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>33</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-7135382318678214784</id><published>2011-04-23T11:26:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-23T12:03:43.976-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Flightless (Nearly) in Seattle</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Many people consider themselves to be unlucky.  That's not me at all.  At airports, things just always work out (with one notable exception involving connecting in Dallas the night the Cowboys' practice facility collapsed, which led to my first and only stay at a Motel 6).  The most recent close call involved my redeye return flight home from Seattle.  Daniel, Chad, and I had gone to Vancouver and skiing in Whistler, and we all took redeye flights back.  Even though I was at the airport 3 hours before my flight took off, I nearly missed it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To lead off, Seattle has one of the dumbest airports I've ever seen.  The South Satellite terminal (Terminal S - not labeled well) is where Daniel and Chad's flight was.  Since they were flying out an hour before I was, I figured I'd hang out with them, and then head over to Terminal B where my flight was.  Well you know how it goes in airports.  It's hard to obtain prime seating position with access to power outlets, and I had one of those prime seats, so I ended up just staying at Terminal S until about 30 minutes before my flight took off.  I would just ride the train over real quick and be at my gate.  Easy as pie, right?  Nope.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uxZHgAqwSNg/TbL-Z9aGhxI/AAAAAAAAACg/Rwp5-EMFEz8/s1600/seattle-airport-terminal-map.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 186px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uxZHgAqwSNg/TbL-Z9aGhxI/AAAAAAAAACg/Rwp5-EMFEz8/s400/seattle-airport-terminal-map.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598817008709175058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at the map.  There's not an arrow on it, but the South &lt;b&gt;LOOP&lt;/b&gt; train (emphasis on LOOP) is supposed to go S - A - B - S - A - B - S - A - B... over and over and over until the end of eternity.  This isn't like Backwards Friday on your elementary school bus route or like the running track at the YMCA that alternates which way you run around the track.  It always goes S - A - B.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I get on the train, but unfortunately, I'm not paying complete attention to my surroundings.  I was actually engaged in a very difficult level of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angry_Birds"&gt;Angry Birds&lt;/a&gt;.  All I knew was that the train was going to stop twice, and I was going to get off at Terminal B.  When the doors opened what I believed was the second time, I got off, still playing Angry Birds, and then looked up to discover I was right back where I started at Terminal S.  I thought to myself, "Idiot!  Stop jacking with your phone and pay attention next time."  I had to wait another 4 minutes for the train to come back, and this time I paid more attention.  I watched alertly as the doors opened at Terminal A, but &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;mindblowingly, the train reversed course and went straight back to Terminal S.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I get off at Terminal S, and start looking around for signs saying that the train is jacked up.  Nothing!  I looked again at the map.  Yep, it still goes in a loop!  I look around for other people to ask questions.  Nobody!  Not a soul!  It was midnight in the airport, and there was nobody at all on the train or at the stations, and I'm starting to question my sanity, and I'm wondering if the train is just screwing around with me.  At this point, I'm like, "Forget the train!  I'm just going to run."  Well if you look at the map above, you'll notice that Terminal S is completely disconnected from the rest of the airport.  So I had to wait on the train &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;again&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;This time, I decided to cut my losses and just get off at Terminal A and run from there.  I hung around for just a moment after getting off the train to see what it was going to do, and, shockingly, the dang thing continued on to B just like it was supposed to!  So I'm sprinting to B, seeing no one around me and feeling like Tom Hanks in The Terminal, and of course my gate is at the very end of B.  The gate agents saw me running and held the door for me, and shut it right after I boarded.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I slept like a baby.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-7135382318678214784?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/7135382318678214784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/7135382318678214784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2011/04/flightless-nearly-in-seattle.html' title='Flightless (Nearly) in Seattle'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uxZHgAqwSNg/TbL-Z9aGhxI/AAAAAAAAACg/Rwp5-EMFEz8/s72-c/seattle-airport-terminal-map.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-660502329740930209</id><published>2010-07-18T19:11:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-18T19:52:40.721-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A 3.5 Hour Dash to the Airport</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;PRELIMINARY NOTE:  I realize that I  have come perilously close to going almost 2 years without posting.   Although I've never claimed to be a daily poster, I do desire to post  approximately once per financial quarter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The annual  whitewater rafting trip is always fresh with new forms of entertainment,  but unfortunately is usually accompanied by new terrors as well:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/TEObXokZvpI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TDZKB8_egts/s1600/2pdNkl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/TEObXokZvpI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TDZKB8_egts/s400/2pdNkl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495406800651533970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What you see above is the result of a game called Wizard Mode.  All you need to play is beer and duct tape, and the only rule is that as soon as you finish ten, you can tape them together to form a weapon.  What was particularly amusing was the increasing sophistication of the weapons as more people finished.  It started with simply taping ten cans together in a row, and culminated with Andrei creating the Beer Mace.  The 2009 version of our trip also included an incredible beer explosion and someone chugging a beer out of his shoe.  The beer explosion was hilarious.  Someone had somehow accidentally placed a full unopened beer in the fire, which was about ten feet away from a small drop-off that went into the river.  A dude from the campsite next to us was kneeling by the fire warming his hands when all of a sudden &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BOOM!!!&lt;/span&gt;  And then the dude disappeared.  It turns out he fell off the 8-foot drop-off into the river, and was just peacefully laying there, still holding his beer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where this airport story starts is probably where most mad-dash airport stories start, which is with someone saying, "Hey, so what time is your flight again?"  After doing a quick time zone conversion, I realized it left in about 3.5 hours.  At that exact moment, someone had pulled out a GPS and figured out that it would take me 3.5 hours to get to the airport in Atlanta:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/TEOeNO7zP7I/AAAAAAAAACE/CB_Eg6Hc2mo/s1600/Picture+4.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 264px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/TEOeNO7zP7I/AAAAAAAAACE/CB_Eg6Hc2mo/s400/Picture+4.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495409920506544050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This news would be quite unsettling to most people.  I didn't worry though, because I'm lucky.  Things just work out for me with flights.  There were quite a few challenges here though.  I had to drop off my rental car in Chattanooga, and get a ride from friends the rest of the way to ATL, and it was only going to be 3.5 hours if traffic was fine, and how often is that the case in ATL??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I get in my Dodge Charger (awesome rental car), and we start tearing through all of these East Tennessee country backroads trying to get to Chatt-town.  Unfortunately, I was going about 55 in a 35, and a cop started to pull out onto the road.  After a quick risk/return analysis, I made an artful detour into a neighborhood and waited for the trouble to pass while my friends who were following me continued on.  After I pulled back out onto the road, I took a wrong turn, and drove 9 miles on a backroad parallel to the interstate.  If I didn't have my iPhone guiding me, I would have been screwed.  I'm skipping a lot here, but I dropped the rental off, rendezvoused with my friends, and we made a mad dash to the south side of ATL, and I got to the airport 20 minutes before my flight left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to check in for my flight from my phone, but their website was down.  When I approached the ticketing counter to get my ticket, Delta wouldn't allow me to check in because it was less than 30 minutes before the flight.  I had a few quick words with a rep, and she printed my ticket off.  I skipped everybody in security after making a loud announcement that I was doing so, and I was rushing toward the speed train given that I only had 15 minutes left before the last flight of the evening to Houston was departing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, I'm thinking it's going to be easy.  Yet another challenge comes my way.  As soon as I get on the train, an automated voice comes over the speakers saying, "Sorry, the train is down for maintenance."  I'm in disbelief at this point.  I've come way too far for the train to let me down.  So I ditched my sleeping bag and took off in a sprint for Terminal D.  Atlanta is the busiest airport in the world, and let me tell you, Terminal D is a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;long&lt;/span&gt; way away.  After I got to Terminal D and sprinted up those mountainous escalators, I then discovered that my gate was all the way at the end of the terminal.  I made it just as they were closing the door to the jetway, with a great sense of accomplishment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a good thing I made it, too, because I had an important presentation at 8 AM the next morning and I would have missed it.  I owed Eric and Travis big time for getting me there.  They even skipped Cracker Barrel to take me on what they thought was an improbable adventure.  All you can say after an adventure like that is BOOYAH!!  At least, that's what I was saying under my breath as I was doing some subtle fist pumps of success in my aisle seat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-660502329740930209?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/660502329740930209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/660502329740930209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2010/07/35-hour-dash-to-airport.html' title='A 3.5 Hour Dash to the Airport'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/TEObXokZvpI/AAAAAAAAAB8/TDZKB8_egts/s72-c/2pdNkl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-114842943302113329</id><published>2008-07-28T23:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-23T11:23:45.757-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny Hurricane Katrina Incident</title><content type='html'>I feel obligated to finish this post. I noticed that I saved this post to my drafts &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;almost two years ago&lt;/span&gt;, and since it lingered that long, it deserves to be finished. So I have an interesting confession to make:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Whenever somebody mentions Hurricane Katrina, funny thoughts come to mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://web.mit.edu/12.000/www/m2010/images/katrina-08-28-2005.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://web.mit.edu/12.000/www/m2010/images/katrina-08-28-2005.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And no, I don't mean laughing out loud like when you type "LOL" into your IM chat. Much louder than that. Actually, I take that back. The type of laugh I'm tempted to do is what is most likely known as the "moderately funny laugh" according to the TBS Funny-Not Funny Hotline, which is typically constituted by shooting short bursts of air out your nostrils without actually opening your mouth. You know what I'm talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Anyway,&lt;/span&gt; during the Fall of 2005, I was doing my third co-op term at Southern Company. I was living at Highland Towers in Birmingham. And &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;stupidly&lt;/span&gt;, I was doing laundry in the apartment laundry room during Hurricane Katrina. This community laundry room was as awesome as a community laundry room could be! The washers and dryers had automatic locks on them that would not allow anyone to open them while they were operating, allowing you to go off and leave your clothes. Quite unfortunately, the power went out while I was washing some clothes. Adding to this unfortunatism was the much more unfortunate fact that my clothes were locked inside the washer when the power went out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I lamented this plight, I began to walk back toward the stairs when I heard someone yelling in the elevator. A man was stuck in there and apparently the backup generators to the elevator weren't working! The guy was yelling "I'M STUCK! I'M STUCK!! SOMEBODY HELP!!" I could hear him fairly well, so he wasn't too far away from me. Then I heard somebody who was apparently trying to calm down: "Stay calm! Help is on the way! You will be out of there soon!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt kind of guilty about eavesdropping on all of this, but there was nothing I could really do, so I figured I might as well stay entertained since my cable was now out. The guy kept yelling and the man who was trying to calm him down kept trying to do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, there was silence. And then, when I expected to hear nothing more, I heard:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;I'M GONNA &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;DIE!&lt;/span&gt; I'M GONNA DIE! I'M GONNA DIIIIIIE!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;The calm down dude started his routine again and it seemed to be working... until...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;OXYGEN!!!!!!!!! OXYGEN!!!!!!!!!! I NEED AIIIIIIIIRRRRR!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoever that clown was in the elevator was putting on quite a show, and it was really making me crack up. The building was getting pretty hot though without any A/C, and I thought to myself, "If anybody has power during a hurricane, it's going to be Alabama Power." So I drove to the Southern Company building with a few packs of Capri-Suns and watched &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;The Thomas Crown Affair&lt;/span&gt; on the overhead projector in the conference room to kill some time and wait for the power to come back on. The power didn't come back on for over a day, and when it did, I had some awfully mildewy clothes to deal with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, Hurricane Katrina itself isn't anything to laugh about, but I always think of that dude yelling all that crazy stuff in the elevator whenever anybody talks about the hurricane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-114842943302113329?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/114842943302113329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/114842943302113329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2006/05/funny-katrina-incident.html' title='Funny Hurricane Katrina Incident'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-5828264801188691853</id><published>2008-07-28T22:30:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-28T22:43:35.359-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sketchy Live Journal People</title><content type='html'>After 21 months in blog wilderness, I have decided to make my humble, yet dramatic return to the blogosphere.  This was partially prompted by several colleagues of mine.  I would tell them some crazy story, and they would say, "Dude!  Go write a blog post on that!"  I must also add that they were not in the slightest sense serious, yet, nonetheless here I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing I want to do in my first blog in 21 months is make fun of Live Journal people.  You know who I'm talking about, too.  It's those people who write passionately to their blog on a daily basis.  They think that all of their friends are constantly refreshing the page, looking for new entries.  Then, naturally, they burn out after a few weeks.  Two months later, they are back, usually with a message that looks something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Alright guys!  I'm back for good!  I was busy with school for a while, but that's all over now and I can't wait to express my feelings on this web page every day for the rest of my life!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... And that's usually the last post they make.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what about me?  I've never claimed to be a once a day person, or even a once every fortnight person.  If anything, I've claimed to be a bimonthly blogger.  And so I shall remain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-5828264801188691853?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/5828264801188691853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/5828264801188691853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2008/07/live-journal-people.html' title='Sketchy Live Journal People'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-116158320157024936</id><published>2006-10-23T00:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-23T10:21:34.726-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Near-Death Lamp Incident</title><content type='html'>An unfortunate occurrence happened. A fairly accurate illustrated portrayal of the incident is presented below:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5597/919/1600/death%20lamp.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5597/919/400/death%20lamp.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a miracle I'm still alive,  basically.  So I was just minding my own business and sleeping.  One thing that is relevant to the discussion is that I have historically had a problem with turning my alarm clock off subconsciously, so I place it a good distance away from my bed so I don't do that.  Unfortunately, however, I have a large wingspan and I try to cheat sometimes because of that.  So yeah I was cheating the other morning but in the process my head tipped over my tripod lampstand and this &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;extremely pointy lamp&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; came crashing down.  This has happened before with other lamps that are duller and I have had minor bruises, but this was an entirely different lamp.  This lamp has got all kinds of dangly, dangerous sharp junk on it and a top piece that is comparable to a spear-head (my mom made me get it so don't say anything).  But it happened in slow motion pretty much and because of the position I was in, I knew that it was too late to try to stop the lamp so I quickly threw my pillow over my head and braced for the worst.  You know, after telling this story, I have realized that this really wasn't that big of a deal, but I got a real adrenaline rush out of it so I guess that's good enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although this is unrelated, another nighttime tendency I feel it is necessary to make public involves my watch.  For some reason, I can't leave my watch on a desk or table or anything because I can actually hear it ticking and it keeps me awake.  Even if I am ridiculously tired, I will get up out of bed, pick up my watch and put it on the carpet somewhere.  Well OK.  That should do it for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-116158320157024936?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/116158320157024936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/116158320157024936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2006/10/near-death-lamp-incident.html' title='Near-Death Lamp Incident'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-114842905718931245</id><published>2006-05-23T18:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-23T19:04:17.200-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Outlandish Motivation Techniques</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Brief Note: I fully intend on continuing these occasional brief posts.  I had a hectic semester.  Give me a break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Okay.  So the key item on today's agenda was meeting with a simulations consultant in a suburban office complex around 9 AM.  Today, I learned a very important lesson: If I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ever&lt;/span&gt; start my own consulting firm, I'm going to make absoultely sure that I meet the other consultants or business personell leasing the neighboring offices, because what I experienced today was truly amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around 9:02 AM, we heard some loud cheering and yelling going on in the office below us.  I figured that it was just a respectful display of acclaim for reaching a landmark or something like that.  Well, the cheers turned into synchronized shouting, with the office personell below us crescendoing into a high pitch yell and softening into a low-pitch murmur.  Then it stopped.  Then 9:07 rolled around and this one guy just starts screaming and then all the others gradually join him screaming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JORDAN:  So what exactly is going on here?&lt;br /&gt;KEVIN (the consultant):  Oh, I don't know, but it happens every day.&lt;br /&gt;JORDAN:  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Every day??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KEVIN:  Yeah, I'm guessing it is some sort of strange motivational technique.  They should be about done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the yelling continued on and off &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;until about 10:15 AM&lt;/span&gt;.  I swear, that had to have been some sort of cult masquerading as a business.  When it finally &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;did&lt;/span&gt; get quiet for a prolonged period of time, I figured it was probably because all of the people followed their holy leader's instructions and took their suicide pills.  NUTS.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-114842905718931245?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/114842905718931245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/114842905718931245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2006/05/outlandish-motivation-techniques.html' title='Outlandish Motivation Techniques'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-113445320729572898</id><published>2005-12-12T23:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-12T23:57:55.413-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Aaaah Hectic</title><content type='html'>What a ridiculous week:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/49/4055/1024/Jordansweek2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/49/4055/400/Jordansweek2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday was terrible. I had my presentation and 58-page paper due on that Wednesday, so I didn't get any sleep that night and then on Thursday I was in Atlanta, then Birmingham, then Tuscaloosa to do the presentation, then back in Birmingham for another function &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all in one day&lt;/span&gt;. It was a crazy week and I look forward to goofing off a bunch this week. I will goof off like it is nobody's bidness this week, and that's fo sho.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-113445320729572898?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/113445320729572898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/113445320729572898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/12/aaaah-hectic.html' title='Aaaah Hectic'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-113433845280267488</id><published>2005-12-11T16:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-11T16:37:31.210-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Collegiate Hall ... What was I thinking?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;PRELIMINARY NOTE: If you are Daniel Furlong, please disregard all of this!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was young and naive my first time in Birmingham, and I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; picked out the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;wrong&lt;/span&gt; apartment complex during that summer a year and a half ago. The roommate compatibility test paired me up with a guy named Byron, the king of the ghetto. All this time, I thought to myself how unlucky I was that summer to get paired with him ... until I saw this review on an apartment ratings website:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.apartmentratings.com/rate/AL-Birmingham-Collegiate-Hall-All.html"&gt;http://www.apartmentratings.com/rate/AL-Birmingham-Collegiate-Hall-All.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As it turned out, this website convinced me that I was one of the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lucky&lt;/span&gt; ones!  There were 33 reviews of the apartment, and only &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;four&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;of them recommended it for future residents! After actually reading some of these, I found out that the majority of these people had stuff stolen from their cars or their apartments. A screenshot of the messages posted is below. It is quite humorous:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/49/4055/1024/collegiate%20hall.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/49/4055/400/collegiate%20hall.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you can see, the negative ratings are not simply complaints about the lack of hot water!  My favorite titles:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;   &lt;li&gt;hellll nawwww!  RUN AWAY QUICK!&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;I was beaten and robbed!&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Parents: Do NOT put your child here&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Move in at your own risk&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;WARNING: Not Safe!&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Don't take the chance&lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ul&gt; I would like to mention, however, the specific living conditions that I dealt with because it is quite amazing when considered collectively:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;   &lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Byron ran a stolen tire buisness.&lt;/span&gt; It was not uncommon to see Byron and Bo rolling in tires on any given night and stacking them on our balcony. Byron wasn't altogether inconsiderate, however. He sold a set of tires to his mom for a discount of $25/tire.&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ten of his friends and family members lived with us for over three weeks.&lt;/span&gt; That was quite the akward situation. I would frequently have to step over four or five people on my way to the door when I was leaving for work. One of his friends, James from Selma, I actually enjoyed having around. He stayed for the entire summer.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;James and I did &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; know that one of Byron's cousins was a girl until the day before she left.&lt;/span&gt; First of all, there was some name ambiguity. She said that her name was "O" and that she was 24 years old. From her appearance and sound of her voice, James and I assumed she aws a 15-year old man. I still remember James breaking the news to me the night before she left. James said, "Hey J-Money. Man, you know that ain't a dude, man!" I, of course, reacted in disbelief. James came back with some comforting words: "Well that ain't as bad as if it was the other way around. Just imagine if we thought that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;O&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;was a ho, and then we found out that the ho be a dude.  Damn I'm glad that ain't happened."&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;James and I were outside during a shooting.&lt;/span&gt; I had just pulled up from work, and James was doing something in the trunk of his car, and we heard 11 gunshots and a girl screaming and all these people started running. James yelled out, "Oh snap! We gotta go!" Then, upon arriving at the apartment, James commented upon the incident: "Man dog. Man that man made sure the got the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;job&lt;/span&gt; done man!"&lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ol&gt; All I have to say is thank God I'm alive and I will &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;never&lt;/span&gt; be tricked into living in the ghetto ever again.  I encourage you to check out that website though.  The reviews are hilarious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-113433845280267488?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/113433845280267488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/113433845280267488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/12/collegiate-hall-what-was-i-thinking.html' title='Collegiate Hall ... What was I thinking?'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-113194037436603520</id><published>2005-11-13T21:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-13T22:09:52.786-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Triumph on ESPN College Gameday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/49/4055/640/Corso2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/49/4055/400/Corso2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, Alabama lost this weekend in one that could have gone either way to #5 LSU, but that doesn't mean it wasn't a successful weekend! It was an awesome weekend. The hoedown was fun and I got to hang out with a lot of great people. But the funniest part was that my friends and I actually turned something we had joked around about into a reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were expecting ESPN College Gameday to be coming to Tuscaloosa sometime this year, and we were thinking about how funny it would be to have a deceptive sign that initially said something like "Lee Corso is Awesome" and as soon as we saw the sign on the screen we would rip off the word &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;awesome&lt;/span&gt; and the phrase "a bastard" would appear.  Well who says dreams don't come true?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eric had actually put the word "fabulous" as the cover word, but it served its purpose. Eric said that the cop at the Gameday set entrance looked at the sign a bit suspiciously, but let him in anyway. We didn't intend on getting right behind Corso's zoom-in angle, but that is a testament to how truly providential this was. We got the sign on TV three times during the first hour, and on our best run we got it on TV for a good solid 8-10 seconds (an eternity). And the best part was that it took up the entire side of the screen to the left of Corso's head! It truly could not have been planned better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About an hour into the show, I was getting ready to hold up the sign again, but this rather rotund lady managed to squeeze her way around hundreds of people to the third row where we were and she yanked the sign away from us! We were not distraught for long, however. We knew we had done our job. Better yet, Philip ingeniously rearranged the letters of the "fabulous" sign, which we still had, to spell out "F LSU." A couple minutes later, this cop who looked like he came straight out of the movie Super Troopers came and tapped Philip on the shoulder. Apparently, someone radioed the cop to look at the sign but the cop apparently didn't know what the sign said. Philip rearranged the letters really quickly and handed them to the cop and the cop just stared at all of the letters for a good solid minute or so and handed the letters back!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I had one of those refridgerator magnets of human emotions where you can move the square around to your current emotion, mine would be "accomplished."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-113194037436603520?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/113194037436603520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/113194037436603520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/11/triumph-on-espn-college-gameday.html' title='Triumph on ESPN College Gameday'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-112684598519674579</id><published>2005-09-15T23:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-15T23:51:07.846-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Water Water Everywhere</title><content type='html'>Well, my intentions were good.  I was going to run some water, wait until it reached a scalding temperature, and hand-wash some dishes.  Unfortunately, I wasn't paying attention and the dishes managed to realign themselves in the sink to where the water wasn't draining.  Next thing I know, there's two inches of water on my hardwood floors.  Look at the water ripples for yourself:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/watereverywhere.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/watereverywhere.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly, I was tired, so I just ... Actually, I'm tired as crap now from all the work we've done in Atlanta today.  In fact, I'm hittin' it folks.  See you tomorrow or some other time.  Holler at that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-112684598519674579?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/112684598519674579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/112684598519674579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/09/water-water-everywhere.html' title='Water Water Everywhere'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-112658706451123164</id><published>2005-09-12T23:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-12T23:59:34.183-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Trip to Seaside</title><content type='html'>Yeah, this happened way back sometime in July, but I've been pretty busy with a whole bunch of crap.  Anyway, Daniel and I went down to Seaside and it was a very relaxing trip.  For instance, you can see me relaxing below.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/Hammock.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/Hammock.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, I am not relaxing with a girl, but with a newspaper.  But hey, the hammock sure was nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were right down the street from the Truman house from the movie The Truman Show (Jim Carrey was in it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/Truman%20House.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/Truman%20House.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way down, Daniel suggested an alternate route (which turned out to be a wrong one), but it was actually quite sweet because we never would have found this outstanding restaurant!  You are not going to believe what the name of the restaurant was.  Go ahead.  Look at the sign:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/SawMeal.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/SawMeal.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that circular disk hanging below is supposed to be a cirular saw.  Think about the context of this picture.  You are in Alabama.  Not only are you in Alabama, you are in a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;very&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;rural part of Alabama where they speak &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;very&lt;/span&gt; rural language.  Rural as they were, they still had the magnificent ability to generate very crappy puns.  I have to admit, this one is quite a groaner.  Sawmeal instead of sawmill.  Wow.  Ouch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-112658706451123164?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/112658706451123164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/112658706451123164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/09/trip-to-seaside.html' title='Trip to Seaside'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-112328496449167495</id><published>2005-08-05T18:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-05T18:45:03.580-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's That Time of Year Again!</title><content type='html'>Take a look at the best running back in the NFL during his college days:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/sualex6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/sualex6.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A sea of crimson awaits:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/Bama%20Endzone.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/Bama%20Endzone.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ray Hudson leaves the entire Kentucky defense in the dust:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/Ray%20Hudson%20Endzone.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/Ray%20Hudson%20Endzone.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROLL TIDE!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-112328496449167495?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/112328496449167495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/112328496449167495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/08/its-that-time-of-year-again.html' title='It&apos;s That Time of Year Again!'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-112248280577275537</id><published>2005-07-12T11:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-27T12:19:57.190-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Second Sunday in July</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/40600004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/40600004.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes!  It's that time of year!  It's time for members of the Thompson family (my mom's side) to make their annual pilgrimage to the Fayette Civic Center located in Fayette, Alabama.  The event usually is rather enjoyable.  The food is great and I really do enjoy talking to various family members ... well, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;most&lt;/span&gt; of them.  There's always second-cousin Charles that I have to watch out for though.  He's not right in the head from fighting in Vietnam.  Last time, he managed to corner me and then lecture me about the historical significace of paperclips in American society.  Crazy!  Thank God that didn't happen to my dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the picture above is my cousin Margaret Ann.  She is also from Memphis and she just graduated from UT.  (Yeah, I know.  Sad, isn't it?)  Anyway, she started a tradition several years ago that I have faithfully adhered to every time I have attended.  There is a guestbook at the front of the civic center that guests sign every day, and the rule is that we must continue to sign in the same comment after our names year after year.  Instead of putting "Awesome!" or something nice like that, five years ago I apparently thought it would be a good idea to put "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Truly the best civic center experience of my entire life.&lt;/span&gt;"  So that's what I have to sign every year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, that was a great story wasn't it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-112248280577275537?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/112248280577275537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/112248280577275537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/07/second-sunday-in-july.html' title='The Second Sunday in July'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-112093149818930945</id><published>2005-07-09T12:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-19T10:54:50.353-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No, My Name Is Not Terrell</title><content type='html'>Last night, I received two wrong number phone calls. The first one was a girl asking to speak to Jalen, and the second was some grandma lady wanting to talk to Jimmy. I don't mind the occasional misdial, but I seem to be getting a dispropotionate share of wrong number calls ... and I don't think that even two of these callers have asked for the same person! It's someone different every time! Jimmy, LaBrandon, DeShaun, Dale, Rock ... That's right. And the person calling me always sounds like one of two people. It's always either some sort of disillusioned elderly woman or a guy who could easily go platinum with a new rap album. One of the funniest ones (to me) was about two weeks ago. Here's how our chat went:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: Hello.&lt;br /&gt;CALLER: Eh (sounds like "hey" but with no 'h').  'Dis Terrell?&lt;br /&gt;ME: I don't know a "Miss Trell."&lt;br /&gt;CALLER: Naw naw.  Is 'dis Terrell?&lt;br /&gt;ME: Can you please restate your previous question?&lt;br /&gt;CALLER: I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sayd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; is 'dis Terr ... [He does the ghetto laugh.] This ain't Terrell.  [He hung up.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One time, I tried to have a little fun with with this one caller. I swear, it seems like it's the same guy calling me, but asking for a different person each time. Maybe he just likes my reaction or something. I got a call not too long ago that was kind of funny, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: Hello.&lt;br /&gt;CALLER: Hey is 'dis &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Rock? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;[puts extra emphasis on the word "Rock"]&lt;br /&gt;ME: [after a short pause]  Yes.  [I said "Yes" in my Texas news anchor voice.]&lt;br /&gt;CALLER: Who this is?&lt;br /&gt;ME: [pause]  This is Rock.  [using the same voice]&lt;br /&gt;CALLER: Bull [explicit deleted].  This ain't Rock.&lt;br /&gt;ME: If I ever see this "Rock" character, I'll be sure to tell you.&lt;br /&gt;CALLER: [ghetto laugh] Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time I don't do that though.  I just tell them they've got the wrong number.  These people probably &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;do&lt;/span&gt; know right away, as my voice probably sounds nothing like anybody they know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If anybody has any good ideas for future calls, let me know. Well, it's Saturday afternoon and I'm done with all my first summer term finals now. I just got back from Hardee's and that was definiately my worst trip to Hardee's ever. Very tired ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-112093149818930945?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/112093149818930945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/112093149818930945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/07/no-my-name-is-not-terrell.html' title='No, My Name Is Not Terrell'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-112084944155427374</id><published>2005-07-04T14:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-08T14:33:57.096-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Highly Unfortunate Vacuum Cleaner Incident</title><content type='html'>When I went home this weekend, I walked inside and I thought that maybe, just maybe, Charles (my bird) would be nice to me.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wrong.&lt;/span&gt; My bird hates me. Who says that animals can't hold grudges! I was never mean to Chucky, it was mainly one incident that he still holds against me, an occurance that I call "The Highly Unfortunate Vacuum Cleaner Incident."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;like, 6 years ago&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;my mom told me to start vacuuming up the seeds under Charles' cage. As I was sucking up the seeds with the little tube thing, I briefly passed the wand by the bird and I noticed his feathers responded to the suction. I was like, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wow.  That's kind of cool.&lt;/span&gt;  So I moved the wand closer to him and his feathers started coming up and he looked hilarious and I was like, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wow.  It looks like he's in a wind tunnel.&lt;/span&gt;  But then I accidentally let the tube get too close and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;FOOMP!  &lt;/span&gt;Charles absolutely rocketed into the vacuum cleaner tube.  My mom was like, "OH MY GOD YOU JUST VACUUMED UP THE BIRD!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;So I yanked plug from the wall and fortunately for him, he was lodged in the tube. So I detached the long tube and kind of poked him out and he was just laying there on the floor. That was very odd, because birds &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;never&lt;/span&gt; lay down. They even sleep while standing up. So I kind of poked him a little, and I started saying, "Oh Chucky. I'm so sorry." After a few seconds he woke up from the shock looking dazed and confused. He &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;still&lt;/span&gt; holds that against me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has been kind of weird ever since. Most birds sit inside their cage or at least on top of it. Many times, my bird enjoys sitting on the side:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/40600013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/40600013.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He still tries to hide from me. In the picture below, my bird actually thinks he is hiding from me. I walked towards his cage and he slid down the back a little:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/406000141.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/406000141.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bird flies into the wall all the time, so hopefully he will crash so hard he will forget about the vacuum thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-112084944155427374?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/112084944155427374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/112084944155427374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/07/highly-unfortunate-vacuum-cleaner.html' title='The Highly Unfortunate Vacuum Cleaner Incident'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-112084920923137340</id><published>2005-07-03T14:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-08T14:17:47.980-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shake Them Haters Off</title><content type='html'>For those of you who didn't know, Reed and I were quite fortunate to be in attendance when the And-1 Mix Tape Tour made its stop in Memphis at the FedEx Forum.  My choice of apparel was my pink and white striped Polo which I had tucked neatly into my khaki shorts.  When Reed saw me, he said, "Jordan!  What are you thinking??"  I realized he was right.  So I untucked my shirt and remarked, "Precisely Reed.  We must simply try to blend in."  We had courtside seats.  The crowd behind us was enjoying the game immensely.  See for yourself:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/40600010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/40600010.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our view was pretty decent:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/40600005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/40600005.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was fun and nobody got shot, so it's all good.  It was an inspiration for me, however.  Since I have left Memphis, my game has become slowly deghettoized.  I play watered down ghetto ball now.  I must return to my former state!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-112084920923137340?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/112084920923137340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/112084920923137340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/07/shake-them-haters-off.html' title='Shake Them Haters Off'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-111989979746357151</id><published>2005-06-27T14:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-27T14:35:05.040-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Farewell to 'Larms</title><content type='html'>The title of this post deals with a smoke alarm adventure Kyle and I had in February ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/scan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/scan.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it's gone now! On Saturday, Kyle and I cleaned up the Birmingham apartment and turned in the keys. Leaving it was quite sad (unlike my other Birmingham apartment experience!). It was just so perfect being virtually new with the fireplace and vaulted ceiling and the clientele was just awesome. Wildwood Crossings is a great place to live if you ever have to get an apartment in Birmingham!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I reflect upon the five months we spent there, I recall one of the funniest things that happened to Kyle and I while we were there. We were in the middle of cooking dinner for our expected company. I didn't see that Kyle had accidentally spilt something inside one of the burners on the stove, so I just started working away at the white-cheddar pasta and mashed potatoes while kyle was grilling the chicken. The room became smoky quite gradually, and I didn't pick up on it until Kyle screams, "JORDAN! FIRE!" As soon as Kyle cried out "Fire!" the two smoke detectors in the living room area started going off, and my first instinct was to get the food away from the stove, so I picked up both of the pots and I ended up kind of running in place as I was looking for a place to put the food. At the same time, Kyle had grabbed a folder and he was standing on top of a chair fanning the smoke detector. It looked hilarious from my point of view because as soon as he fanned one smoke detector down and started fanning the other one, the first one would start going off again and Kyle would yelp "Doh!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our company arrived about two seconds after we got the situation under control. It must have looked hilarious from the other residents' balconies because we had left our blinds open and anybody who wanted to could see me dancing around with the pots and Kyle running back and forth frantically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... Wildwood Crossings was an awesome place.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-111989979746357151?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111989979746357151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111989979746357151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/06/farewell-to-larms.html' title='A Farewell to &apos;Larms'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-111949752816017433</id><published>2005-06-22T22:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-22T22:32:08.173-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Always close the blinds!</title><content type='html'>Well, I just got done thoroughly embarassing myself.  I was in the living room studying and it is pretty late, but I had the blinds open.  Of course I would forget that, and I started practicing moon walking about the living room and people outside saw me.  Dang it.  Stupid stupid stupid.  Also tonight, Daniel and I pretended to run in slow motion to the tune Chariots of Fire.  It was a slow day....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-111949752816017433?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111949752816017433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111949752816017433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/06/always-close-blinds.html' title='Always close the blinds!'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-111932082316613517</id><published>2005-06-18T21:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-20T21:27:03.173-05:00</updated><title type='text'>KY-tastrophy</title><content type='html'>Just so you know, I will get to the KY Jelly part further down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Friday was most certainly the second most uncomfortable day of my entire life.  I mean, I was in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;less&lt;/span&gt; discomfort when I broke my arm!  The worst day of my life was right after I had surgery on my broken nose.  When I returned to consciousness, I realized that I had these long cloth things shoved &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;deep&lt;/span&gt; back behind my nose.  When the doctor saw my worried look, she said, "Oh, don't worry!  It's just like tamp-ons!" to which I then thought to myself, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Well isn't that just the icing on the cake?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, my sunburn was worse than I thought it was, and right after I finished my test on Friday, I went to Crimson Cafe with Adam, and in the middle of my meal, my entire chest from waistline to collarbone started itching furiously.  It seriously felt like there were fire ants crawling all over me and biting me everywhere.  I tried to at least look halfway normal since I was in public, so I started rubbing my stomach in a circle in the same manner that those idiots do who pat their head while rubbing their tummy.  Anyway, it was just killing me, so I went to the student health center and by that time I was going bonkers!  I explained my condition to as many people as I could along the way so they didn't think I was some psycho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;finally&lt;/span&gt; came in after like 20 minutes after I started yelling, "Somebody just shoot me! ... with drugs &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;or&lt;/span&gt; bullets ... it doesn't matter!"  She then told me that there was no magic wand she could waive, but there were a couple of prescription drugs that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;might&lt;/span&gt; help.  She added to my comfort by telling me that those same drugs have the reverse effect upon her and makes her worse.  To top it off, she said that the prescription was not carried at the health center and I would have to run somewhere else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I drove to Rite Aid and I was practically hyperventilating by this point and somewhat numb in my arms and my head.  As I made my way through the store, I was stumbling like a drunken idiot.  The pharmacy window seemed like a light at the end of a tunnel ... a very &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;long &lt;/span&gt;tunnel.  I was feet away from the window when I passed out.  As I fell over, I knocked over an entire display of KY Jelly, and I happened to bust open a bottle of the stuff and it got all over my legs.  When I became conscious, my legs had an odd, tingling sensation in them and they were starting to feel numb like the rest of me.  The pharmicist woman gave me some pills with some water on the spot and told me she'd never seen someone in such agony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I managed to drive back to the apartment, even though I couldn't feel the car pedals.  The itch continued for another hour or so before it went away.  That Friday was definitely one of the worst days I've had in my entire life.  Seriously, it felt like I had fire ants biting all over me for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hours.&lt;/span&gt;  That's what I get for falling asleep in the mid-day sun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-111932082316613517?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111932082316613517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111932082316613517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/06/ky-tastrophy.html' title='KY-tastrophy'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-111888348642019988</id><published>2005-06-15T19:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-15T20:00:31.696-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunburned!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/sunburned.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/sunburned.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I'm not very smart.  Several hours in mid-day sun &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;with no sunblock&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;was quite a smart move on my part!  Look at that burn line!  Ouch!  I've got a test tomorrow and a test on Friday, and I don't even know if I'll be able to put clothes on tomorrow!! ... Much less even wear shoes!!  Dang it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-111888348642019988?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111888348642019988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111888348642019988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/06/sunburned.html' title='Sunburned!'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-111880329932894165</id><published>2005-06-14T19:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-14T21:41:39.336-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fodder of the Tide</title><content type='html'>The title of this post is a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;very&lt;/span&gt; loose pun, so loose in fact that I felt it was necessary to make a note of that.  It is supposed to sound like "Father of the Bride."  But my discussion today has nothing to do with marriage nor Alabama football.  It deals with food around campus!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was laughing at myself yesterday because I'm usually not a very impulsive person.  I mean, I'm spontaneous, but I don't necessarily always spring to action as soon as a thought enters my head.  Yesterday, I was driving on 82 (a 6-lane highway) and there was a cop behind me but I didn't think anything of it because I was going the speed limit.  I saw Taco Bell on the right, so I shot over to the far right lane, but &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;as soon&lt;/span&gt; as I moved over, I looked to the left and said, "Ooh!  Subway!"  So I darted back to the left.  Almost instantaneously, I felt I was making a mistake as I saw Wendy's on the right side, so I jumped back over to the far right lane again.  This is incredible indecision right?  Well, for good measure, I saw Schlotzski's on the left and made a very sharp cut across 5 lanes of traffic to get there.  Remember, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;a cop was behind me the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;entire&lt;/span&gt; time!&lt;/span&gt;  I don't know how I didn't get pulled over, but I bet it looked hilarious.  The whole thing happened in a total time of approximately 15 seconds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;finally&lt;/span&gt; tried City Cafe in Northport.  What an awesome place!  What a deal!  There is not another place on earth where you can get a good meat and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;four&lt;/span&gt; vegetables for $4.15.  That is an absolute bargain.  I guess that's why it's packed out all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm always doing effing homework and I've got some more to do, so I've got to go take care of some business.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-111880329932894165?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111880329932894165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111880329932894165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/06/fodder-of-tide.html' title='Fodder of the Tide'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-111860345831195202</id><published>2005-06-04T14:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-12T21:33:22.360-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Golf in Rain = Adventure Park</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/history_clock.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/history_clock.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daniel asked me to caddy for him at a charity event for the Big Oak Ranch at Robert Trent Jones golf course, and we were out there for TWELVE HOURS! We got through 144 holes! The sky looked nothing like you see in the picture, however. It rained all day on and off. Around 11:30 AM or so, the bottom just absolutely fell out of the sky. It was pouring down rain and lighting like it was nobody's business and Daniel and I were about as far as you could get from the clubhouse. His dad and sister were out there in a cart, too. It flash flooded and I have never had so much fun driving a golf cart before. Oxmoor Valley is an extremely hilly course, so large pools of water were accumulating along the valleys of the cart path. It was kind of like the log ride at a theme park. As we descended, we put our arms up and generated a splash that went well over the roof of our cart! Daniel's dad ran into a tree. Everbody was kind of wet when we got back to the clubhouse, but Daniel and I might as well have just jumped in a pool. But what an awesome day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well ... almost. In addition to playing golf for 12 hours, I decided to move a bunch of stuff from my Birmingham apartment to my Tuscaloosa apartment and THEN leave for Memphis on the same day! It was an incredibly LONG day, but it was sweet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-111860345831195202?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111860345831195202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111860345831195202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/06/golf-in-rain-adventure-park.html' title='Golf in Rain = Adventure Park'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-111730242878645348</id><published>2005-05-28T12:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-27T14:37:07.396-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Kyle's Artwork</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;IMPORTANT PRELIMINARY NOTE:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; am NOT a NASCAR fan.  Kyle and I just enjoy making fun of it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/daleadega.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/daleadega.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kyle has provided a beautiful reproduction of what we saw on I-20 on the way to Atlanta ... Dale-a-dega! The #3 and #8 are symbolic of Talladega fans' affinity for both Dale Sr. and Dale Jr. All of those little boxes are representative of port-a-johns and the WTF is representative of our thoughts. Good job Kyle! Of course, we didn't get out of the car to see it all, but next time through, we will stop in Talladega and tour the International Motorsports Hall of Fame. It promises to be hilarious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-111730242878645348?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111730242878645348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111730242878645348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/05/kyles-artwork.html' title='Kyle&apos;s Artwork'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-111724780963379211</id><published>2005-05-27T21:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-19T10:58:00.766-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No Truck Turnaround</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/Turnaround.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/Turnaround.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went with some friends to Atlanta to see the Braves vs. the Astros, and on the way to finding Eric's house, we got a little lost, so we had to turn around in a lot. Sure enough, with our luck, we see this stupid sign that says, "No truck turnaround." How about that? There are weird signs all over the place. Like on US-78 in the middle of Nowhere, Mississippi, I noticed a billboard that said in huge letters, "Need A Vasectomy Reversal? Call ... " What on earth is that?? First of all, that is a very poor marketing strategy. I mean, how many guys driving on 78 is that going to apply to?!? Secondly, I don't even understand how you can reverse something like that. Kyle, Eric, and I happened to be discussing what life after a vasectomy would be like in Atlanta at a Steak-'N-Shake. Of course, we were discussing it WAY too loud and I got quite the akward look from our waitress. Our theories are quite funny. Haha. That was hilarious. ... Well, I've veered way off!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well it was fun. The whole trip was fun. A NASCAR track is on the way to Atlanta in Talladega (i.e. Dale-a-dega) and it was hilarious. It was a week after the race was over, but when we passed by the track, there were TWO HUNDRED FREAKING PORT-A-POTTIES out there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Atlanta is a pretty awesome place, but that's all I've got for now.  Holler.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-111724780963379211?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111724780963379211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111724780963379211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/05/no-truck-turnaround.html' title='No Truck Turnaround'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-111544067000040184</id><published>2005-05-06T23:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-06T23:38:52.356-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Co-op Humor</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/Dilbert.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px; width: 615px; height: 238px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/Dilbert.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought this was hilarious.  I have it posted on my cube at work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-111544067000040184?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111544067000040184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111544067000040184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/05/co-op-humor.html' title='Co-op Humor'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-111283079691719570</id><published>2005-04-06T18:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-06T18:43:19.026-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Breakfast at Work</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/Tough%20Decision.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/Tough%20Decision.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We make tough decisions every day.  Right now, I'm thinking "Chocolate or oatmeal?  Oatmeal or chocolate?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/Eating%20Coco%20Pebbles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/Eating%20Coco%20Pebbles.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coco Pebbles has 7 essential vitamins in it!  I think I made the right choice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-111283079691719570?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111283079691719570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111283079691719570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/04/breakfast-at-work.html' title='Breakfast at Work'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-111223721011191396</id><published>2005-03-30T20:46:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2005-03-30T20:50:07.093-06:00</updated><title type='text'>That's a big rock</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/Boulder.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/Boulder.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Camping kind of sucked.  I mean, I forgot my flashlight and there was way too much mayo on my bacon cheeseburger from Wendy's.  I got some good pictures in the morning.  Believe it or not, you can actually sit straight undeneath that boulder.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-111223721011191396?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111223721011191396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111223721011191396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/03/thats-big-rock.html' title='That&apos;s a big rock'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-111223718418999286</id><published>2005-03-30T20:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-03-30T20:48:24.253-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas in March?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/Bama%20Santa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/Bama%20Santa.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is Santa Claus an Alabama fan?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-111223718418999286?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111223718418999286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111223718418999286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/03/christmas-in-march.html' title='Christmas in March?'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-111185715578834024</id><published>2005-03-26T11:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-03-26T11:12:35.790-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Disappointing Quiz Results</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="text12" id="msg_txt"&gt;Look at this quiz I took!  This can't be right!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width="400" align="center" border="1" border cellspacing="0" style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg align="center" style="color:#66CCFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style='color:black;&lt;br /&gt;font-size: 14pt;' style="font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Your Brain is 53.33% Female, 46.67% Male&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your brain is a healthy mix of male and female&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are both sensitive and savvy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rational and reasonable, you tend to keep level headed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you also tend to wear your heart on your&lt;br /&gt;sleeve&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="&lt;a href=" target="_new"&gt;http://www.blogthings.com/genderbrainquiz/&lt;/a&gt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-111185715578834024?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111185715578834024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111185715578834024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/03/disappointing-quiz-results.html' title='Disappointing Quiz Results'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-111163893601125692</id><published>2005-03-23T22:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-03-23T22:35:36.013-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Crisis Averted!</title><content type='html'>I almost blew it big time today!  I had just parked in the garage at work on a slope and I got out of my car and I started walking ... &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;when I noticed my car moving beside me!&lt;/span&gt;  I freaking dropped everything and scrambled to get my keys and I unlocked it and jumped in while it was moving.  Fortunately, I stopped it, but the dang thing had rolled about 10 feet!  Always always always pull your e-brake!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-111163893601125692?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111163893601125692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111163893601125692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/03/crisis-averted.html' title='Crisis Averted!'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-111155189762727207</id><published>2005-03-22T22:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-03-22T22:30:25.713-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Haven't Been On Too Many Vacations</title><content type='html'>Look at the view from my window at work!  I woke up late that day, but it I got to see a beautiful sunset!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/Department%20Window.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/Department%20Window.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey check this out! Here is a map of all the states I have been to. As you can see, I have many places I need to go. I mean, I'm happy living where I am now, but I'm willing to go anywhere!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.world66.com/myworld66/visitedStates/statemap?visited=ALARCACOFLGALAMSTNTX" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.world66.com/myworld66"&gt;create your own personalized map of the USA&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-111155189762727207?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111155189762727207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111155189762727207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/03/i-havent-been-on-too-many-vacations.html' title='I Haven&apos;t Been On Too Many Vacations'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-111051377296057824</id><published>2005-03-10T22:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-03-10T22:02:52.960-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Rejuvinated Jordan</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;That's right!  I've been so sleep deprived from last semester that I haven't had much energy for anything.  But it's all changed now.  Maybe it's because Spring is right around the corner!  I'm going to push myself and start striving again to achieve my goals!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;  Looking forward to a great weekend!  Looks like Eric, Lefty, Ryan and I are going to Atlanta to watch Bama take the SEC crown.  Roll tide baby.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-111051377296057824?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111051377296057824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111051377296057824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/03/rejuvinated-jordan.html' title='A Rejuvinated Jordan'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11368560.post-111060634169872204</id><published>2005-02-28T23:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-03-11T23:56:58.150-06:00</updated><title type='text'>T-Bag of the Century</title><content type='html'>The Alabama-Auburn game was AWESOME! The fan favorite, 6'2" Jason Reese, had the best slam dunk I've seen all year long by anybody on any team! It was on his senior night too. Check it out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/19650.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/19650.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reese does a fake pass around 3 Auburn defenders and begins skying towards the basket!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/19647.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/19647.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reese then t-bags the Auburn defender!  Look at the Auburn guy!  "Please don't land on my head!"  Too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/19651.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/19651.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The starters and the rest of the bench are going crazy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/640/19648.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 2px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/49/4055/400/19648.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ball is in play at this point, but Reese doesn't care. Our coaches are laughing and giving him high fives while all the fans are smiling ear to ear!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11368560-111060634169872204?l=jcjohnston.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111060634169872204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11368560/posts/default/111060634169872204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jcjohnston.blogspot.com/2005/02/t-bag-of-century.html' title='T-Bag of the Century'/><author><name>Jordan Johnston</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05990766920781802237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fsHWqPE8TGo/SI6gkDPP9nI/AAAAAAAAABQ/j-SfWLQGM2g/S220/license3.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
