<?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-23536137</id><updated>2011-04-21T19:43:44.565-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bachelor</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>The Bachelor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00723191311959208298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/35/109332245_a3264010b5_o.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23536137.post-114323382640956015</id><published>2006-03-24T12:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-24T12:57:06.420-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Favorite time of year</title><content type='html'>Spring! Spring! Spring! This is my favorite time of year. Not yet too hot, but warm enough for micro shorts and tube tops. That's right, it's HOOCHIE SEASON! This time of year girls get all frisky and want to fuck. I do not know why they do, but I noticed it back in high school. The parties get crazier, and the hot tub gets full lots faster and earlier. Not to mention all of the single moms dump there kids with the dad and go to the beach. I am going to be heading to Austin tomorrow afternoon. Several of us who go to Colorado during the summer are going to get drunk and plan the trip. My buddy Derek and I will try to convince some of the other guys to come to Vegas with us on memorial day. What ever we do, it will involve drinking to excess and taxi cabs. Hopefully it will involve some boobies as well. Bri and I hung out last nigh. She showed up to the bar at about 9:00. So much for going home early. We drank for about 2 hours and I had to leave. She emailed me this morning about kissing some guy in his truck. I have no idea when that happened, but I 100% believe it. Tonight I have to do some wash and let my liver have a break. I have to be at work tomorrow at 7:00 o' f#ckin clock in the morning! Good news off at noon them off to Austin. Under age Bartender wants to come? She is hot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23536137-114323382640956015?l=bachelornumberone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/feeds/114323382640956015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23536137&amp;postID=114323382640956015' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114323382640956015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114323382640956015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/2006/03/favorite-time-of-year.html' title='Favorite time of year'/><author><name>The Bachelor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00723191311959208298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/35/109332245_a3264010b5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23536137.post-114306207116812619</id><published>2006-03-22T12:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-22T13:14:31.183-08:00</updated><title type='text'>League fun</title><content type='html'>Every Monday night I go to the bowling with four other men. These guys are all very different than me. One is a college student/drug dealer, another is a garbage collector for the city, there is a bar tender/cable TV man. And One of them works at&lt;br /&gt;Walmart. We have little in common, but somehow manage to get along famously. I look forward to my bowling league as a time when you can just go and take a mental break. And we also, sometimes get to kick the crap out of other teams. Just a little peek into my Monday. As soon as bowling is over, I get back in my truck crank up the system and go hunting for women. At least it is something to do on Monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to last weekend. Saturday I stayed up with D-madness until 4:00am. Several of us raided Walgreen at 2:15 for breakfast food. No Sy this time. 4 of us Me, my good friend C-berg and patty all went to d-madness house and threw a mean munch. We all talked for a while, C-berg had to work the next day, so home for all of us. Sunday my sister mir picks me up for dinner with mom and dad. Her real reason was to get me to lift some heavy boxes into her house. Had dinner at the Blue Star Brewing Company. The food there is awesome. I recommend cheese enchiladas with red pork chili topping. Mir and I leave mom and dad with a hug and I am off to the house for laundry and to watch Ray. Pretty fun weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23536137-114306207116812619?l=bachelornumberone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/feeds/114306207116812619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23536137&amp;postID=114306207116812619' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114306207116812619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114306207116812619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/2006/03/league-fun.html' title='League fun'/><author><name>The Bachelor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00723191311959208298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/35/109332245_a3264010b5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23536137.post-114296020797466531</id><published>2006-03-21T07:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-21T09:03:23.033-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hollywood video continued.</title><content type='html'>After freezing last week, I returned on Sunday. I was wearing a wrinkled linen shirt, a sweat stained hat and baggy shorts. Top that off with sandals I bought for the purpose of helping my buddy paint the bottom of his pool. I was looking as sharp as mud. As luck would have it, the pretty blond had been replaced by a curly headed ninompoop named Vance. I hate you Vance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;St particks day was pretty fun. Started right after work with a hot shower and a clean shave. Then it time to get ill. Down at my local bar, there was a huge tent and security outside. All surrounding parking was taken so I parked in the back. Band was unloading. They are good friends of mine, so I humped some speakers, then had my first of many Jack Daniels and Diet Coke. First, met up with DDblondi and her crew of women of size. They always want to rub my crotch and touch my thigh under the table. There is on I would like to bang, but only if no one knew. That never happens at my bar. I was supposed to take bri to the spurs game, but she had to work late. I thought about taking someone else, but I decided to wait for her. She sat down and I ran for shots and beers, in the meantime the large girls came back from the restroom. It took bri about 10 seconds to get angry by their petty comments and snide looks. Grabbed her a took her to the bar before they started swinging. Angry looks from that table, but who fricking cares. We have more booze, then bri's posse shows up and my game is done. There is no way to peel her away from her friends. But just my luck, B-nasty shows her pretty face and I am done looking. I know this girl is a freak, so I like to come up with dangerous sexual situations for us to enjoy. We went to Walgreen bought a disposable camera. Drove to a quiet neighborhood and she striped naked and I took her picture in from of various houses and buildings. It was about 12:30 by this time, so it was dark. After about 10 pictures of her, I got out of my cloths and let her take about 5 pictures. Then, I dropped them off for 1 hour service. Sy the photo guy has no idea what I dropped in his lap. Back to the bar for last 45 min of the night. Tab came to over $ For this little dive bar, that is a LOT. Back to Walgreen. B-nasty and I walk in and Sy can't even hold his composure. He almost forgot to charge us. Then back to my place for 2 hours of hot and dirty sex. At least it was hot for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23536137-114296020797466531?l=bachelornumberone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/feeds/114296020797466531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23536137&amp;postID=114296020797466531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114296020797466531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114296020797466531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/2006/03/hollywood-video-continued_21.html' title='Hollywood video continued.'/><author><name>The Bachelor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00723191311959208298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/35/109332245_a3264010b5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23536137.post-114264015804666350</id><published>2006-03-17T15:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-17T16:02:38.060-08:00</updated><title type='text'>fridaynight</title><content type='html'>So it is Friday night at about 5:40. This is the first free minute I have had since 8:00 am. I am wiped out, and still have to go meet my date for tonight's game at seven, head down to the &lt;a href="mailto:at@t"&gt;at@t&lt;/a&gt; center to watch my spurs. Then off to my local for a night of serious rowdiness. I am tired and semi-hung over today, so I got my butt kicked by the dozens of people who needed their cars and trucks fixed today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, saw a super hot young woman the other day in Hollywood video. Hot ass, followed by a beautifully smile and blond hair. Did mention she was young? Eight friggin' teen! Anyway, picked out some sleazy pseudo-porn flick for my alone day and she walked around the corner and spotted it in my hand. She asked if I was finding everything alright. I must have turned red. Anyway, I should have ask for hope floats or some other piece of crap movie. But I froze and said that I was I'm OK. Oh well, next time I go there, it's on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23536137-114264015804666350?l=bachelornumberone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/feeds/114264015804666350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23536137&amp;postID=114264015804666350' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114264015804666350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114264015804666350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/2006/03/fridaynight.html' title='fridaynight'/><author><name>The Bachelor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00723191311959208298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/35/109332245_a3264010b5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23536137.post-114243710526396928</id><published>2006-03-15T07:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-15T07:38:25.290-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hectic.</title><content type='html'>Work today has been crazy busy. Since I work on commission, I am going to help customers over blog any day. Especially since I really don't have to much to share today. Spurs won two in a row. Big game Friday against Phoenix. I may just lie low until then, but I doubt it. Well, since nothing note worthy happened to me last night, I can share with you for a few minutes. I am the oldest of four children. Two sisters and one brother. Grew up in a small town north west of San Antonio called Boerne. It is a great place to be FROM. It is safe, but I could run thru all of the single women in a mater of weeks. There are plenty of cheating wives, but this being Texas, you are taking a chance of getting your ass shot off! Mom and Dad still live there with my little brother. He is in his senior year of high school. He is not planning on leaving, and I can not figure out why?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23536137-114243710526396928?l=bachelornumberone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/feeds/114243710526396928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23536137&amp;postID=114243710526396928' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114243710526396928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114243710526396928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/2006/03/hectic.html' title='Hectic.'/><author><name>The Bachelor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00723191311959208298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/35/109332245_a3264010b5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23536137.post-114234858777145457</id><published>2006-03-14T05:36:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-14T07:22:52.403-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jerk!</title><content type='html'>When he heard that The Underage Bartender and I had plans to see Nickelback, a young man named Mikey bought a ticket and asked for a ride. U. B. , being a sweetheart agrees to let him ride along. At this point I had been at my bar since 1:30 and was in no shape to argue. Plus, it never hurts to have a designated driver. U. B. Shows up about 5:00 and Chad, D-madness, her and I sit down and have drinks like civilized adults. This is the last civilized moment of the evening. Mike shows up about 7:00 and we are off with him at the wheel of my truck, U. B. In the front seat and me in the back. With a quick stop for beer, we are off the the races. Get to the coliseum and Mike buys more beers, I start saying that all of the women there are less than attractive. At this point UB is in the bathroom and an attendant is moping around our feet. It seems we had been spilling more beer than we were drinking. The rock fans were not impressed by the fact that we could remember about half of the words to Willie Nelson's whiskey River between the two of us. As UB stumbles out ot the restroom, we head outside for a smoke. Before the show even started, we all were tired of being there and climed a fence between us and the car and were gone. On the way home Mike drove while UB and I made out in the back seat. If I had been him, I would have driven into a light pole.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23536137-114234858777145457?l=bachelornumberone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/feeds/114234858777145457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23536137&amp;postID=114234858777145457' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114234858777145457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114234858777145457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/2006/03/jerk.html' title='Jerk!'/><author><name>The Bachelor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00723191311959208298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/35/109332245_a3264010b5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23536137.post-114226239420784865</id><published>2006-03-13T05:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-13T07:06:34.220-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I survived!</title><content type='html'>Here I am, safe and sound after a weekend that took years off of my life. Started Friday night with a 23rd birthday party for a super hot girl we will call bri. For some odd reason she wanted to go bowling. With this group, that means drinking beer by the pitcher and watching the girls asses when the throw the ball. I am still out of bowling commission because of an altercation last week at the office. After two games, we were all tired of bowling. Back to my local with about half of the party including Bri. At the bar, I totally lost track of the party because I was chatting with my good friend Chad. At 2:30 when the bartender told us to leave or get to work cleaning, Chad decided we were hungry. Grabbing our good friend D-madness off her stool at the end of the bar, we proceeded to terrorize the folks at Walgreen for their limited selection of groceries. Got to Chad's place and passed out on the couch while they feasted on eggs, bacon, green beans and sweettarts. Woke up the next day and Chad had to go work for 2 hours, so I cooked and ate the rest of the eggs. I can't remember the last time I have cooked. At this point it is about 1:30 and we head back to the bar to get my truck which we left there the night before. Bar was not open yet, but they let us in anyway.&lt;br /&gt;This is the start of Saturday. I will write about the Nickelback concert after lunch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23536137-114226239420784865?l=bachelornumberone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/feeds/114226239420784865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23536137&amp;postID=114226239420784865' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114226239420784865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114226239420784865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-survived.html' title='I survived!'/><author><name>The Bachelor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00723191311959208298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/35/109332245_a3264010b5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23536137.post-114200256867956810</id><published>2006-03-10T06:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-10T06:56:08.686-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun with strippers</title><content type='html'>Sitting at my local bar Las night, talking shop with a guy who does the same job. We were having a blast comparing stupid customer stories and gobbling down jack, when a girl we will call "May" called and wanted to hang out. This call is both exciting and depressing. May is 5 foot 2 inches tall and weighs about 103lbs. I think that about half of her weight is breasts. The depressing part is, after she gets drunk, she gets all weepy and will not give it up. Hanging out with her is like walking a tight rope. You want to make sure she is having fun, but you also don't want her smearing up your polo shirt with eye makeup. I walk into the bar down the street to hook up and find her sitting next to a friend of mine. I almost walked out and left her to him, but I was feeling...... ok, I wanted her for myself. Grabbed her hand and hauled her to a gentelmens club across the street, where she started to put on a show that had me looking like the man. I am not averse to making a scene, but when other guys come and try to sit at my table, it is time to leave. I drag May away from this 18 year old Mexican hotty and toss her into the back seat of my explorer. About 10 minutes and a load of semen later I drop her at her car. I managed to dodge the crying and felt like a stud. Good night so far! Head back to my bar for a night cap, underage bartender takes one look at me and smiles. How does she know? She whispers in my ear how excited she is about the concert tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23536137-114200256867956810?l=bachelornumberone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/feeds/114200256867956810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23536137&amp;postID=114200256867956810' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114200256867956810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114200256867956810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/2006/03/fun-with-strippers.html' title='Fun with strippers'/><author><name>The Bachelor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00723191311959208298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/35/109332245_a3264010b5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23536137.post-114191295957869714</id><published>2006-03-09T05:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-09T06:02:39.586-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What am I doing.</title><content type='html'>Last night a girl we will call DD blonde told me her friend we will call Red was feeling lonely and that we should go and visit her. Me, being the Neva man, agree with no argument. On the drive over there DD blond has a grin on her face that I have seen before. Last time I saw it was before she pulled out my member and swallowed it during the opening credits of wedding crashers. At this point, I know that something beyond my control is about to happen, and I can't wait. When we get to Red's apartment, all of the lights are blazing and it smells like she had been cooking all day. After a good home cooked meal, and a kiss on the cheek, we are on our way. Do you ever feel like you have been cheated!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23536137-114191295957869714?l=bachelornumberone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/feeds/114191295957869714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23536137&amp;postID=114191295957869714' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114191295957869714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114191295957869714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/2006/03/what-am-i-doing.html' title='What am I doing.'/><author><name>The Bachelor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00723191311959208298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/35/109332245_a3264010b5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23536137.post-114182572640680803</id><published>2006-03-08T05:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-08T06:02:18.706-08:00</updated><title type='text'>hump day</title><content type='html'>Not much news today. My finger was about closed until my shower this morning opened it back up. At least it did not bleed. My spurs lost to the clippers last night. I kind of expected that result, they never do to well in back to back games. Hell, if they can finish the season winning 7 then loosing one or two, they will be just fine. Made a date with a barely legal bartender last night. She wants to see a band called Nickelback, who happens to be playing in the most uncomfortable venue in san antonio. The freeman coliseum. I hate this building. But since its her, I will go and like it! This girl is smoking hot and a generous bartender. How much better does it get. Guess I will go figure out who the f*#k Nickelback is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23536137-114182572640680803?l=bachelornumberone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/feeds/114182572640680803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23536137&amp;postID=114182572640680803' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114182572640680803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114182572640680803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/2006/03/hump-day.html' title='hump day'/><author><name>The Bachelor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00723191311959208298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/35/109332245_a3264010b5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23536137.post-114176094997518775</id><published>2006-03-07T11:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T11:54:10.980-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ouch!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/169/2419/1600/waaaaa[1].0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/169/2419/320/waaaaa%5B1%5D.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got into a fight with a co-worker. I told the boss our only female advisor was printing family pictures on our communal printer. When he went to investigate, he found this picture. It did not take her long to figure out who did it. Now my finger tip will not stop bleeding and it makes typing difficult. Now she feels bad. but she still will not show me her breasts!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23536137-114176094997518775?l=bachelornumberone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/feeds/114176094997518775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23536137&amp;postID=114176094997518775' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114176094997518775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114176094997518775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/2006/03/ouch.html' title='Ouch!'/><author><name>The Bachelor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00723191311959208298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/35/109332245_a3264010b5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23536137.post-114173818184188651</id><published>2006-03-07T05:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T11:53:34.796-08:00</updated><title type='text'>tuesday morning</title><content type='html'>it is 7:30 in the morning and I am up with the chickens. Last night my bowling Team and I caused a ruckus at happy family bowling center. Too much beer in too little time caused a member of my team to try and dribble his bowling ball. Afterwards, stopped by my local and some friends. Left the bar after the game (lakers stink!), got some tacos and went to bed alone. Woke up this morning and the next thing I remember, here I sit in my noisy office sipping coffee trying to pretend to be mentally alert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Bachelor&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23536137-114173818184188651?l=bachelornumberone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/feeds/114173818184188651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23536137&amp;postID=114173818184188651' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114173818184188651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114173818184188651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/2006/03/tuesday-morning.html' title='tuesday morning'/><author><name>The Bachelor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00723191311959208298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/35/109332245_a3264010b5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23536137.post-114168379874205606</id><published>2006-03-06T14:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T11:52:52.280-08:00</updated><title type='text'>First Try</title><content type='html'>Before you start reading there are a few things you should know. My spelling is awful. I you are a stickler for spelling, this blog will make you crazy. I also work very hard all day long and do not have a connection at home. I will post when I have time, but not every single day. You also need to know that I have very few moral rules, but those I have are rarely flexible and even less frequently broken. I am against stealing and adultery (NOT fornication). I am all for cramming as much fun and excitement into your life as possible. When I die, there is no way that I am going to regret not having had enough fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I had a three day weekend this last. Went to 2 spurs games, got loaded twice, attended a flash mob (promoting arts in San Antonio, not political) went too two gentleness clubs, had sex with one of my regulars and drove one drunk girl home (damn it). All in all it was very grand. However, I did not clean my bathroom. I did not do any laundry. I did not call my friend about our next trip to Vegas, or clean that sticky spot in the carpet in from of my couch. Oh well. Screw it, I can wash cloths tonight after bowling league and worry about the spot when hell freezes over. Thanks reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Bachelor&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23536137-114168379874205606?l=bachelornumberone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/feeds/114168379874205606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23536137&amp;postID=114168379874205606' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114168379874205606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23536137/posts/default/114168379874205606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bachelornumberone.blogspot.com/2006/03/first-try.html' title='First Try'/><author><name>The Bachelor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00723191311959208298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://static.flickr.com/35/109332245_a3264010b5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
