<?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-785813087091789316</id><updated>2011-07-08T09:37:18.810-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Doodlbop</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Teri Battles</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>40</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-8206154946869331565</id><published>2009-09-13T19:38:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T19:44:47.205-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Neighbors</title><content type='html'>Oh, my gosh. My neighbors are totally insane sometimes! So my best friend lives across the street and her parents are complete NIGHTMARES!!! I'm not really sure how she can live in that house. It's too small and cramped and everyone is always yelling at everybody else! I'm so glad my family isn't like that. My brother is loud but he's not mean or annoying. Well, he is mean sometimes but I don't take it personally because he says mean stuff to his friends but I'm sure he doesn't really mean any of it.&lt;br /&gt;     But I can't believe how my best friends parents treat her sometimes! They act like they don't even love her! I remember one time where the kids had gone to get professional, black and white pictures of themselves and I saw them and they all looked really good! My best friend looked really pretty and her two brothers looked good too. And the parents couldn't stop going on about how good the boys' pictures looked! I don't remember them saying ANYTHING good about my best friend's! I just don't understand life sometimes... and that is a really subtle thing that the parents have done. I've seen much more yelling and screaming at that house than I ever wanted to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-8206154946869331565?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/8206154946869331565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=8206154946869331565' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/8206154946869331565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/8206154946869331565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-neighbors.html' title='My Neighbors'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-7209640998143925057</id><published>2009-06-05T15:01:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T15:01:36.398-04:00</updated><title type='text'>asdfk</title><content type='html'>l;kasdjfk;sdfjl;askdfjal;sdcnoapweirhpioweuhnkcfnvasdkl;sdkl;opawernflaskdf that is what i have to say&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-7209640998143925057?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/7209640998143925057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=7209640998143925057' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/7209640998143925057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/7209640998143925057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/06/asdfk.html' title='asdfk'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-7032457728709808719</id><published>2009-06-05T14:43:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T14:51:27.211-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny Pictures!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/28/43878072_9b440a24af.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 246px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 235px" alt="" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/28/43878072_9b440a24af.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://icanhascheezburger.files.wordpress.com/2007/05/kitty_battery.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 237px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 174px" alt="" src="http://icanhascheezburger.files.wordpress.com/2007/05/kitty_battery.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-7032457728709808719?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/7032457728709808719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=7032457728709808719' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/7032457728709808719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/7032457728709808719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/06/funny-pictuet.html' title='Funny Pictures!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/28/43878072_9b440a24af_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-1442456130667461355</id><published>2009-06-03T14:49:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T14:40:21.039-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Microtype</title><content type='html'>This is a program to learn how to type on the computer!&lt;br /&gt;It is so fun even though it is educational, but the games on it are SO fun!!!!!!!! I love it so much. Whenever I get extra time on the computer, I really like to play the games on Microtype. The games they have that I like are these:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Key-A-Shot: You have 5 sentences to type and there is a basketball for each word. The word that it is for is written on it. If you type the word right, then the basketball is shot and SCORED! Try to type as fast as you can.&lt;br /&gt;2. Connect It: This game is my favorite because in my opinion it is the most fun! What you do is you type 5 sentences and you try to type as fast as you can and when you are over, it gives you a certain amount of seconds to do the rest of the game based on how fast you typed the sentences. Then it uncovers a whole bunch of symbols or little pictures. You have to match all the pictures with another one that is exactly the same! You win that level when you run out of little symbols or pictures. Then, in the next level, you do the exact same thing but the symbols or pictures are harder to match because they are more complex looking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-1442456130667461355?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/1442456130667461355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=1442456130667461355' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/1442456130667461355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/1442456130667461355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/06/microtype.html' title='Microtype'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-423058773693818725</id><published>2009-05-20T14:28:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T14:49:43.725-04:00</updated><title type='text'>SOL's and the End of the School Year</title><content type='html'>OMG! I am like so stressed! I have soccer 6 days out of 7 days for each week! And now, since the SOLs are coming, I am having a HUGE amount of homework!!! And the teachers are getting like super strict and serious! It's so annoying. I don't understand why when SOLs are coming everyone is so hectic and then when they are over, all we do is watch movies and have parties! Right now instead of getting a lot of homework, my brother is just watching movies in school! In almost every class and almost never really doing any work! He comes home and says "I have no homework!" and then I say "Wow, I have a ton!" It is really annoying and I think things should not be crammed and instead of cramming then the teachers should start review for SOLs earlier! And then it is almost bearable! I am SO ready for summer to come! I can't wait until my camps start!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-423058773693818725?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/423058773693818725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=423058773693818725' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/423058773693818725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/423058773693818725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/05/sols-and-end-of-school-year.html' title='SOL&apos;s and the End of the School Year'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-3598896957386633954</id><published>2009-04-24T14:45:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T14:59:33.217-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Gross/Interesting Facts</title><content type='html'>I am seriously scared to eat chocolate now!  Here's why:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you know that the average chocolate bar has at least 8 species of insect in it? They make nests in the piles when the chocolate is being made!  So if you don't eat chocolate after this post, I'm sorry but I believe it and it will help you lose weight if you want to!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-3598896957386633954?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/3598896957386633954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=3598896957386633954' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/3598896957386633954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/3598896957386633954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/04/grossinteresting-facts.html' title='Gross/Interesting Facts'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-5244863643772697115</id><published>2009-04-15T14:30:00.048-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T15:02:17.721-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Scared</title><content type='html'>"It's supposed be a little bit smaller than the one that knocked out the dinosaurs." My dad said in a positive voice. "That's good right?" I don't think he realized how much trouble we'll be in. It was so long ago that the dinosaurs were around, that people completely forgot about them. Until now.&lt;br /&gt;"Dad, can we please not talk about this right now?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;"Sorry sweetheart. " he said affectionately. "But I think humans will definitely survive this!" he said in yet another confident, positive tone. I think he was overly confident. I mean, an asteroid was speeding toward Earth right now! People are making super big spaceships to carry as many humans as possible to a different planet in a different solar system before the Earth ends! And there aren't that many animals left on Earth because of humans so what will be left when it wipes out the animals? I mean, alligators and insects might survive because didn't they survive the last time this happened? To tell you the truth, I am really scared. Like REALLY scared. What if they don't have enough room on the spaceship for me and my family? What if they forget me when they take off and I'm left on Earth all alone, just waiting for my death? What if we predicted the wrong time of when the asteroid will hit and it comes earlier? With all these thoughts and questions swirling in my head, I yelled at my dad.&lt;br /&gt;"STOP TALKING ABOUT IT!" I screamed at him. His face looked slightly embarrassed and extremely surprised. I was also surprised. I am not one to yell at someone else. Especially my father! And ESPECIALLY after just a year ago, when my mother died. She died in a hover craft accident. I don't really like to talk about it. Because it wasn't like I was young and didn't remember... it was last year.&lt;br /&gt; My dad finally summoned up the courage to say something, "I'm sorry, honey.  But we will be OK.  We'll figure it out."  My dad wasn't that good at soothing me.  It was just making me angrier!&lt;br /&gt;"But what if we aren't OK dad?  What if we don't make it on the spaceship?" I ask, "What if we are here alone while the entire Earth is burning before our eyes? There's so much I haven't done yet dad!"  I could feel tears in my eyes. "I'm only 12! I'm supposed to live a long, happy life!  That's all I've ever wanted and now that's never going to happen."   I was done with my little depressing speech. That is a lot of words for me to say at one time. I don't really talk a lot.  I absorb what people say because it is all so interesting to me.  I could see my dad feeling sorry for me.  And what are those?  Am I actually seeing tears in my father's eyes?  In MY dad's eyes?! I thought I was never anything like my dad.  I am quite, observent, and realistic.  My dad is wild, confident, and exciting. I wish I  was like him.  My mom had walked into the room probably because of my yelling.  That's something she doesn't hear everyday.&lt;br /&gt;"Everything OK in here?"&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, everything is just peachy!" I said in a fake, happy voice while wiping away my tears.&lt;br /&gt;"Everything is fine." My dad said to my mom in a voice that really said "Can you go away?  I want to be alone to curse at my sucky life."&lt;br /&gt;My mom and I walked out of the room.  I knew my mom was going to try to talk to me, so I just ran up to my room as fast as I could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm scared...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-5244863643772697115?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/5244863643772697115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=5244863643772697115' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/5244863643772697115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/5244863643772697115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/04/im-scared.html' title='I&apos;m Scared'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-7288830612232270489</id><published>2009-04-03T14:23:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T14:28:27.281-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring Break</title><content type='html'>So during spring break I am going to be mostly at my grandma's house in NH! I love her house! It always has a certain smell to it and all her furniture is exactly the same everytime I go. I am also going to see my uncles and some of my cousins! My cousins are soooooooooo cute!!!!!! And my grandma has a pond in the back of her yard and it is fun to catch frogs!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-7288830612232270489?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/7288830612232270489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=7288830612232270489' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/7288830612232270489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/7288830612232270489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/04/spring-break.html' title='Spring Break'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-942337951731643077</id><published>2009-04-01T14:28:00.012-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T15:05:56.619-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Parents... SHUT UP you know?</title><content type='html'>Everyone is getting something they want!  Lots of my friends are happy with how things are going at school.  Social and academic! I'm really happy for them!  And it's not like I'm not happy at school, my grades are good.  But I'm just kind of bored and my grades are kind of effortless.  And if any teacher sees this, I'm not saying that you need to make your courses harder!  I'm just saying that I'm a genius! Ha ha I'm kidding.  And two of my friends have boyfriends that they wanted and I'm just sooooooooo bored.  And I play travel soccer but my parents are really strict about it.  They say I'm not trying  my hardest and I'm being selfish because I'm not helping out my team or whatever!  My mom was making me feel really bad and I honestly do not think I am doing that terrible!  I think my parents want me to be some proffesional soccer player!  And the truth is that I'm not good enough for that!  I mean I'm not bragging but I am good but I just DO NOT like my coach or how my parents are pushing me!  I just want them to SHUT UP.  It really sucks.  My mom says that some of the worst players on my team are looking better than me! And then the other issue with my travel soccer performance is me playing goalie!  People tell me that I am a really good goalie, and I guess I am but I do not like it as much as the field!  And my parents say that I am better at goalie than I am on the field.  My coach and they say that unless I am fonominal in the field, then I will be put in as 50% goalie!  It sucks!  They are making me feel really crappy.  I really DO NOT like my parents right now.  And my mom is bugging me about eating healthy because she thinks I am getting fat.  I DO NOT like it when people remark on other people's weight!  And especially my own weight.  I am not blind.  I know what's happening with me all the time, and I don't need ANYONE else to tell me!  And my BEST FRIEND teases me about my weight sometimes too! And other sucky things that are happening in my life right now is my grandma was just in the hospital because she has cancer or something and she was taking this medicine for it but it made her hand really numb.  And my brother, who has A.D.H.D, is having a hard time in school because his English teacher is really disorganized and keeps changing tests and quizzes!  Also, he is having a REALLY bad time with his baseball coach! The baseball coach is freaking everyone out because he is REALLY intense and mean!  He actually hit a kid on the cheek already!  But it wasn't like with a lot of force but it was still over the line!  And my cousin is mad at me because she showed me her youtube videos and my mom saw me watching them and then she told my unlce who told my cousin's mom and now my cousin is about to get grounded!  I didn't know she wasn't allowed to have youtube videos!  And I'm about to go see her next week during spring break and I don't want her to be mad at me!  And my dad has a pinch nerve or something and he has been really cranky lately!  My mom has been really cranky also because she has been pissed about my brother's school and baseball problems, and my soccer and "eating healthy problems"! I am in a really bad mood.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-942337951731643077?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/942337951731643077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=942337951731643077' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/942337951731643077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/942337951731643077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-parents-shut-up-you-know.html' title='My Parents... SHUT UP you know?'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-1951208942712704121</id><published>2009-03-27T14:26:00.014-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T14:53:11.380-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Music Rocks!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Oh my god. I have been listening to so much music lately! I listen EVERY time I am in the car, and I listen almost every time I am walking from or to the bus! And also I am listening while I am in the bus and in Creative Writing class and sometimes in Core + class! If anyone has questions about songs on 99.5 then I probably will know them. I LOVE music! In English today, we have these warm ups and today we had to explain what the world would be like without music! It would be AWFUL! There would be so much unemployment and almost everyone would be sad and bored! Think of all the times that you listen to music during the week or day! Then you know that it's a lot. It would totally suck if music was illegal. Wouldn't it? And Rihanna and Britney Spears wouldn't have jobs! So... yeah! What are your favorite songs? I don't really know what to write about. Right now I'm listening to a song called Milkshake! I'm sure a lot of you know it... haha! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-1951208942712704121?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/1951208942712704121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=1951208942712704121' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/1951208942712704121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/1951208942712704121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/03/music-rocks.html' title='Music Rocks!'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-5645985838798604458</id><published>2009-03-25T14:56:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T15:07:57.397-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wow I'm soooooooo bored.</title><content type='html'>Lalalalalalala.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'll always be my thunder&lt;br /&gt;So bring on the rain&lt;br /&gt;And bring on the thunder!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-5645985838798604458?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/5645985838798604458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=5645985838798604458' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/5645985838798604458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/5645985838798604458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/03/wow-im-soooooooo-bored.html' title='Wow I&apos;m soooooooo bored.'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-711393505105212130</id><published>2009-03-25T14:24:00.025-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T14:54:16.680-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Talking About School and Stuff... IT SUCKS.</title><content type='html'>School is really annoying sometimes. My school has A LOT of projects during the year. And I don't really like presenting in front of people. I know that a lot of people don't either. It's annoying. Because you know that the class clowns or "popular people" are always laughing about &lt;em&gt;something &lt;/em&gt;and you always think that they are laughing about you. And I hate it when there is mroe than one important project at a time! Like this week I have to present a French project, and then I had to finish presenting my Health project with my friend Undrakh (it's not that bad to present when you aren't the only one up there). And the people before us were really funny so that lightened the atmosphere! And then my American Studies teacher assigned us a project due five days later! It sucks! Does everyone agree? I think so. But some projects are actually kind of fun! Like in Science, I had to make a 3D animal cell and I made it out of a cake! It was really cool because for the organelles and parts of the cell, I made out of candy! And I was allowed to eat the cake after! Well actually I could have served it to the class (and because I didn't they got mad, but whatever) but they had already had two cakes, so they could deal with it! The nucleus was made from some old candy called a Sno Ball! It was big and fat and squishy and had some like cream and chocolate cake inside! It was sooooooooo cool! You know what I hate? Drama. It's so stupid! I know this girl that got SUPER mad at me for "flicking her off" with my ring finger! I was really excited that day because it was like the last week of school and I was in a good mood and then that night she started talking to me on chat.  She started getting really "upset" because I was "acting like a different person"!  So stupid... but she's nicer now.  Well... not really. I talk about it later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-711393505105212130?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/711393505105212130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=711393505105212130' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/711393505105212130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/711393505105212130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/03/just-talking-about-school-and-stuff-it.html' title='Just Talking About School and Stuff... IT SUCKS.'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-923634262783294040</id><published>2009-03-11T14:24:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T14:34:27.125-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Sorry</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Mother, it's Susie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you haven't forgotten me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I'm sorry of what I've left you with&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry I took so many pills&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;It's just that no one was there for me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Especially when I needed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;My brother knew I was depressed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He tried to help&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;But it wasn't his job to fix it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was yours&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;You never payed attention to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even when your boyfriend wasn't around&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;He didn't like me either&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one did but my brother&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I'm sorry,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you should be too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-923634262783294040?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/923634262783294040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=923634262783294040' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/923634262783294040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/923634262783294040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-sorry.html' title='I&apos;m Sorry'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-3313025089853213114</id><published>2009-02-20T14:46:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T14:50:50.254-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This is the hottest guy in the world...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TmCCGvl2mRY/SZ8JVQUsdxI/AAAAAAAAAA8/emxImutxImE/s1600-h/RobertPattinson.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304969146829403922" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 198px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TmCCGvl2mRY/SZ8JVQUsdxI/AAAAAAAAAA8/emxImutxImE/s320/RobertPattinson.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is the hottest guy in the world by the way... anyone who doesn't agree is stupid.  Ha ha just kidding. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But it's true. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-3313025089853213114?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/3313025089853213114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=3313025089853213114' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/3313025089853213114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/3313025089853213114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/02/this-is-hottest-guy-in-world.html' title='This is the hottest guy in the world...'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TmCCGvl2mRY/SZ8JVQUsdxI/AAAAAAAAAA8/emxImutxImE/s72-c/RobertPattinson.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-6166504992545787028</id><published>2009-02-20T14:33:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T14:42:30.523-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Top 5 hottest guys</title><content type='html'>Ok so I have seen many people put there top 5 hottest guys list up on their blog.  AND FRANKLY I THINK THEY ARE INSANE! This is the real top 5 hottest guys list:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. ROBERT PATTINSON (my friend Emma agrees)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Shia LaBeouf&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Zac Efron&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. That dude from the new movie Spectacular on Nickelodean... (I don't know his name)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. This really hot senior that I'm afraid to put his name up on here in case someone he knows sees it... and five of my friends agree that he's so hot!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-6166504992545787028?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/6166504992545787028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=6166504992545787028' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/6166504992545787028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/6166504992545787028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/02/top-5-hottest-guys.html' title='Top 5 hottest guys'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-5855427635024106213</id><published>2009-02-13T14:50:00.050-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T14:43:20.419-05:00</updated><title type='text'>An Average Summer Morning</title><content type='html'>I'm happy, I'm excited and I have no idea what to write about. I guess I'll write about those feelings I just listed.&lt;br /&gt;     I'm happy because I have been going shopping quite often and I've gotten some cool clothes. And it has been kind of nice outside so I've even been able to wear shorts sometimes!&lt;br /&gt;     I'm excited for the summer because my mom just gave me this newspaper with all the camps for the county! And by the way, there is a good number of sucky camps this year! Except one sounds kind of cool... OK I'm getting off track! I'm really looking forward to just being lazy during the summer and hanging around at the pool every day and going shopping with my friends. And bike riding, and shopping! I'm saving up money for the summer because that is when I plan to do a lot of shopping. I can't wait to not have to wear jackets and long pants! And actually I'm not that bored now... I like writing about the summer! I'll write some more! So this is what I want my day to be like during the summer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;•☺♣ ◘○♠◘♥☻&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     I woke up from my comfortable bed. I was so hot last night because the AC wasn't on high enough! I woke up with sweat caked on my forehead. I knew that I should be feeling gross and uncomfortable, but I love the heat! I love summer! So I got out and changed into my T-shirt from Wet Seal and my cut-off jean shorts. I slipped on my pink flip-flops with the red bands. Then I brushed my hair fiercely like I always do. I pulled my now soft hair into a careful ponytail. Making sure that there wasn't any bumps or pop-outs on the top of my head. I hate that!&lt;br /&gt;     I could smell my Dad cooking bacon and eggs, and hear my loud brother laughing his gigantic laugh! . He stopped laughing as my mom scolded him for being too loud in the morning. Ha ha! Sucks for him! I walked down the stairs while putting my lip gloss, my cell phone, and my wallet into my pockets. My lip gloss goes in the front right pocket, my cell phone into the front left pocket, and my wallet into my back right pocket. I always have certain places for things in my pockets. "Hey mom!"&lt;br /&gt;     "Hey, honey!" she said enthusiastically, "Want some bacon and eggs?"&lt;br /&gt;     "Sure." I love bacon and eggs. Especially the bacon! "Hey Dad!"&lt;br /&gt;     "Hey." he seemed really tired. He always is. He always passes out on the couch in front of the TV at about 8:00 p.m every night. And then he doesn't actually go to bed until about midnight, and then he reads and falls asleep with the light on and his face laying on his book. I love it! But it really pisses my mom off... she always complains about how he isn't getting enough sleep and that it's bad for his health. Even though it probably is... I still think it's hilarious!&lt;br /&gt;     "Hey, Peter." All I got as a reply was a 'Hmph' My brother is 15 years old and almost 16. He likes to ignore me as much as possible. He calls me names and bad words but it's not like it's getting to me. He always thinks that he is the strong sibling and that I will crack under his words, but he must be the stupid sibling!&lt;br /&gt;     So I ate my bacon and eggs in silence.   Then when I was done I walked up to the counter to put my plate and silver-wear in the dishwasher.  It was already 11:00!  "Hey mom can Dorothy and Ilana go to the pool with me today?" &lt;br /&gt;     "Yeah sure.  But you need to read something other than a magazine because you haven't been reading lately. " Oh god.  What torture.  I have to read a book!  Even though I read one every day! But she doesn't know that. &lt;br /&gt;     "Mom.  I read a book every night! After I go to bed."&lt;br /&gt;     "I can't be sure of that."&lt;br /&gt;     "Ugh.  Fine! I'll read a book!" I hate it when she does this.  I read enough!  I walked away and down the hall.  I patted my dog, Lucky, on the way.  As I turned to go up the stairs, two objects, one brown and one blonde flashed by my feet.  "God damn it!"&lt;br /&gt;     "Anna!  Watch your language!"&lt;br /&gt;     "Oops!  Sorry. The cat almost tripped me!" I walked up the stairs and to the bathroom.  Then I sqeezed my toothpaste out and brushed my teeth.  I wiped my face and then went to lie down on my bed for a few more minutes.  I'll go to the pool later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-5855427635024106213?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/5855427635024106213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=5855427635024106213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/5855427635024106213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/5855427635024106213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/02/average-summer-morning.html' title='An Average Summer Morning'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-3543464803586836748</id><published>2009-02-13T14:44:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T14:50:02.976-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm so bored</title><content type='html'>a  b    c    d    e    f     g    h    i     j    k    l   m   n   o    p    q     r   s     t    u    v   w    x    y   z&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:webdings;"&gt;ab c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-3543464803586836748?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/3543464803586836748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=3543464803586836748' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/3543464803586836748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/3543464803586836748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/02/im-so-bored.html' title='I&apos;m so bored'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-5936756920944223342</id><published>2009-02-12T12:38:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T14:43:05.925-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The HB Dances</title><content type='html'>The HB Dances are a lot of fun. They are WAY more fun than the Little Falls Dance! I bet almost everyone will agree with me. But what are really annoying about the HB Dances are the fliers they put out in the hallway! I walk around the hall ripping down every single one I see! They are decorated very messy, and THEY ARE EVERYWHERE! They are very distracting and I DO NOT like them! And yes, I'm probably overreacting, but whatever. Whenever I rip down one there always seems to be another one that pops up! The HB Dances are more fun than the LFD's because you know mostly all the people there, and it isn't awkward.  It is smaller and not as hot.  And when you need to go to the bathroom, there isn't this whole gang of girls gossiping and fixing their hair!  In my experience, people are nicer at the HB Dances.  One time at the LFD, my friend was dancing and some boy comes up to her and says "Are you a boy or a girl? I'm just wondering." And he laughs and runs away!  Nothing like that has happened at the HB Dance so far in my experience.  I thought that was really mean and insulting.  Even if your friends from HB Woodlawn bring their friends to the Middle School Dance, it is still fun and comfortable.  There are dance competitions, and better music there than the LFD.  The LFD (so I've heard)  has had many cases of drugs, smoking, beatings and things like that.  So if you have a choice to go to the HB Middle School Dance or the Little Falls Dance, you DEFINETLY should go to the HB Middle School Dance!!!!!! Trust me...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-5936756920944223342?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/5936756920944223342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=5936756920944223342' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/5936756920944223342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/5936756920944223342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/02/blog-post.html' title='The HB Dances'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-5686438075990731777</id><published>2009-02-11T14:39:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T15:01:16.634-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm so bored</title><content type='html'>O                      O&lt;br /&gt;                                                            &lt;br /&gt;                                                             &gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                  &lt;br /&gt;                                                  (________)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-5686438075990731777?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/5686438075990731777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=5686438075990731777' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/5686438075990731777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/5686438075990731777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/02/smileys.html' title='I&apos;m so bored'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-9020556744804879995</id><published>2009-01-23T14:34:00.025-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T14:35:54.160-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have A Really Big House In Miami!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Chapter 7&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;It Was His Dad!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;"That was no one." he said in a defensive tone yet again. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;"Ronnie! You can't expect me to see that type of tension in a conversation and not be curious!" He saw my point and he decided to tell me who that was. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;"That was my dad. . ." he seemed like some screaming would be coming even though we were in a movie theater. But that only made me more concerned and I don't know why he would think I would be mad. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;"That was your dad?!" I couldn't make sense of anything. How could father and son act like that?! Why did Ronnie's dad look so evil?! Why was Ronnie in such a defensive position when he was talking to his dad?! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;"Yes." I wanted to ask more but his voice rang with finality. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;"Oh. OK. . ." I decided to just leave it alone for now. . . I would ask him about it later. The rest of the date went really well accept that I could not sit still with the curiosity and Ronnie was obviously not paying attention to the movie and was instead, staring off into space. I was wondering about why they acted like that together, and where and how and with what Ronnie got those terrible bruises! He had them on his arm and completely down his back. It was horrible. . . it didn't look like a sport injury. . . I didn't know what it was. And then something popped into my head. "Is your dad... abusing you?" It was hard to get the words out because the visuals I had in my head were just so terrible! I mean, to have that type of bruise all down your back... and know that it came from your father. Ronnie looked almost scared now. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;"Um... no." Ronnie was a terrible liar. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;"Oh my god." I couldn't think. I was standing up. I looked around the theater and I felt about 50 pairs of eyeballs staring back at me. Apparently I had been screaming. I didn't know. I couldn't hear. I couldn't see. Tears welled up in my eyes. It was silly because I wasn't the one being abused, Ronnie was. Yet I was the one that needed comforting. He rubbed his arm up and down my arm. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;"It's okay. I'm okay." I couldn't believe how much I was getting to know Ronnie! I mean, before he was just another silly boy in my grade! But know he is a real person with big, real problems. And I knew the most important one. I felt a surge of energy and I burst out of the theater. I didn't know where I was going, I just had to get out of there and get the gruesome visuals out of my head! I burst through the double doors of the movie theater and down the road. I don't know how long I was running, but I finally saw a fire station. I charged toward the doors until someone grabbed me. The thick, muscular arms let me twist around to see the face. It was Ronnie. I didn't know he had been following me. I couldn't speak. I just hugged him and buried my face in his chest. "I was calling for you," he said in a concerned voice, "Did you hear me?" I shook my head against him. He was so tall! "But listen. You can't tell ANYONE about this.If you do... well you can guess." I felt horror flash through my body. "He will get mad." &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;"But your bruises! I-I-It's terrible! Doesn't it hurt?!" I was a stupid question, but he didn't seem to be in pain at all.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;"I'm fine. Are you okay?" I couldn't believe it. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;"WHAT?! Am I okay?! WHAT THE HELL?! You're the one who's father is abusing you, and you're asking ME if I'M okay?!" I heard a man yell something inside the fire station. Uh oh. Someone heard me.  I was in big trouble.  Ronnie said nothing and moved quickly through the back yard.  He carried me instead of letting me run beside him.  I thought that was kind of insulting.  Except there was bigger things to worry about.  The yelling of the man became louder.  I didn't bother to turn around because it was obvious that he was outside with us.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;"HEY!"  he yelled at us.  "STOP RIGHT THERE!" &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-9020556744804879995?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/9020556744804879995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=9020556744804879995' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/9020556744804879995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/9020556744804879995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-have-really-big-house-in-miami_23.html' title='I Have A Really Big House In Miami!'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-7393302522940579567</id><published>2009-01-08T13:09:00.013-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T14:13:27.831-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have A Really Big House In Miami!</title><content type='html'>Chapter 6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A Disturbing Night&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;          Robbie had his arm around my shoulder while we walked into the theater. It was uncomfortable but also sweet. I always hate it when you're walking and talking in the hallways of the movie theater, and then when you walk into the theater for your movie, you finish your sentence and you feel like you were yelling and interrupting the movie, just because it was all quiet in there! That makes me nervous... I don't know why. I tell Robbie this, and he says &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;           "Oh my god, me too! That is so cool!" And it didn't sound like he was saying that just to agree with me, it sounded like that was an honest thing that we had in common! That is cool! He was just quivering with excitement as we entered the theater! I was looking up at his face, and I finally realized how tall he was! He must be 6"4'! Then he stopped cold. His body froze but got hot as if he was nervous. I was still looking at his face as his features tightened into an almost scared expression. I didn't know what he was looking at until I looked in the same direction he was.  I saw a very bulky man with his muscles rippling through his arms.  He looked about 40 years old maybe but still young.  He had some facial hair but not that much.  He looked mad.  I couldn't understand how Robbie knew him, but he seemed to.  Robbie looked like he was in pain.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;           "Hey Robbie.  Are you alright? Who is that?" I whispered in his ear so that the man won't hear me.  Robbie didn't answer.  He just stared ahead.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;          "What are &lt;em&gt;you &lt;/em&gt;doing here?"  Robbie asked in a defensive voice.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;          "You mean you aren't happy to see me?" the man sneered.  He flashed a devilish smile.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;           "Answer the question."  I couldn't make sense of anything.  Robbie looked so mad and the man looked so sinister.  The man just chuckled and left the theater.  Robbie stared after him as if he was ready to defend himself if something happened.  I didn't notice until now that the whole talk was whispers.  Because no one in the theater seemed to notice us in the doorway.  I could feel how tense Robbie was and I was scared.  There was just WAY to much tension in that conversation to not be concerned.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;          "Robbie.  Who. Was. That?" I asked nervously while we walked to our seats.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-7393302522940579567?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/7393302522940579567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=7393302522940579567' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/7393302522940579567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/7393302522940579567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-have-really-big-house-in-miami.html' title='I Have A Really Big House In Miami!'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-2670579605269316918</id><published>2008-12-18T12:42:00.019-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T13:01:41.713-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have a Really Big House in Miami!</title><content type='html'>Chapter 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;I Always Like A Man That Says 'Please'!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;I still can't believe he answered his cell phone for his mom on our date! But he was actually being a gentleman after that because I think he knew that that was rude. "Here we are!" He said, actually seeming excited. He opened the car door for me while we looked up at a very tall and familiar movie theater. I didn't look at his seemingly painful bruise anymore, but I couldn't get the disgusting picture out of my head. It was yellow, blue, and purple altogether. "Do you play baseball? By any chance..." I couldn't help myself. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;He seemed surprised by the question. "No." he said. "Why?" I was hoping he wouldn't have asked that. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;"Well," I didn't want to lie to him anymore. "I was just wondering how you got that bruise on your arm." I swept a quick glance toward it. And as I looked at it, he moved a tiny bit away from me. The wind fluttered his shirt ever so slightly so I could see a sliver of his back. All the way down, it was the same color as his bruise. He took a glance in my direction, bending his head as far as his neck would allow him. It was a cool evening and the wind was comfortable and chilly. He looked very nervous. "Oh my god!" I was too shocked not to speak about what I had seen. He couldn't have gotten an injury this bad in a normal sport! "What happened?!" He seemed to notice that I knew too much. He looked like he was thinking. And pain slashed across his face. Not physical pain, but emotional pain. He didn't seem to want to think about what had happened. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;"Um... I'm not really supposed to talk about it." He stared into my eyes. I was actually noticing how handsome he was. He was REALLY handsome actually. He had dirty-blond hair, and olive skin. His eyes were amazing. They were an incomprehensible shade of blue. They were much brighter than you would think possible for his skin tone. And they had the slightest ring of brown on the outsides. I was in awe. “What?” he asked obviously noticing me looking at his face so intently. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;"Oh nothing. You know, you're actually really gorgeous." I couldn't believe that these words were actually coming out of my mouth! He didn't seem to be caught of guard by the observation, like I thought that he would. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;"Well thanks! You're pretty gorgeous yourself." He seemed happy that we had gotten off the topic of his bruise. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;"Thanks Robbie." I started to laugh and he joined in. We were laughing until we got to the booth where they sell the tickets. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;"Two tickets for &lt;em&gt;Scares: Familiar&lt;/em&gt;, please?" He asks politely. I always like a man that says 'please'. OMG! I THINK I AM FALLING FOR ROBBIE! I kind of didn't want to, but he is just so nice and gorgeous! I wonder if he will make a move during the movie... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-2670579605269316918?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/2670579605269316918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=2670579605269316918' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/2670579605269316918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/2670579605269316918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-have-really-big-house-in-miami_18.html' title='I Have a Really Big House in Miami!'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-8238572367502752602</id><published>2008-12-11T12:40:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T12:58:20.967-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have a Really Big House in Miami!</title><content type='html'>Chapter 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The Horrible Car Ride&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"So..." he was letting the conversation get awkward before either of us had even said anything. He was really getting on my nerves. &lt;em&gt;dring-fling-kring-dring-fling-kring... &lt;/em&gt;His cellphone started ringing a very annoying ring tone. I don't think I did a good job hiding my frustration. He started getting red. He was just staring at me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Answer the cell phone!" I said annoyed. He fumbled with it but finally got to flipping it open. He held it up to his pink ear. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Oh. Hi mom. Um... I can't really talk right now. I'm kinda busy..." He said &lt;em&gt;very &lt;/em&gt;pink and embarrassed. I was fuming. I could hear him mom getting very annoyed on the cell phone. His cell phone was an old, bulky, ugly piece of something that looked like plastic. We still weren't moving in the car. I could still hear his mom and I think she was trying to have him come home and do laundry. I couldn't believe it. I also couldn't wait to tell Sophia how dorky her crush is. I thought I heard his mom threatening him with her husband in some way, but I decided to ignore it. He seemed a little fidgety and nervous after that. But he finally hung up the cell phone and put it back in his butt pocket. I think he could tell how mad I was at him for answering his cell phone on our date. I decided to act a little nicer and flirtatious. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"So Ronnie... was that your mother?" I asked in an innocent tone. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Yeah..." he said "Sorry about that. She kind of has a temper when she wants me to do something and I refuse..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Well that's okay." THAT WAS ABSOLUTELY NOT OKAY. And right then, I noticed something... I very painful looking bruise on his bicep. It looked almost yellow. But it looked like it wasn't hit just once. It looked like it was hit several times. I felt a chill go through my body. The hair on the back of my neck flew up. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"What?" he asked obviously noticing that I wasn't looking at his face. I think he was talking but I was too zoned out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"The bruise on your arm... what happened?" I asked in a non-fiction concerned voice. "Are you alright?" He looked down at the green-yellow bruise as if he didn't even know he had it. I thought I saw a flash of regret fall across his face.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Oh yeah I'm fine... so... what type of music do you like?" I didn't really like any of the music he had in his car, but I just said that I liked the Pussy Cat Dolls to make him happy. The rest of the car ride wasn't really akward, but it was kind of boring. I hope the date will go better...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-8238572367502752602?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/8238572367502752602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=8238572367502752602' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/8238572367502752602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/8238572367502752602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-have-really-big-house-in-miami.html' title='I Have a Really Big House in Miami!'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-1359104473927724395</id><published>2008-11-14T14:03:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T12:55:26.845-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have a Really Big House in Miami!</title><content type='html'>Chapter 3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Convincing Dad is Not as Easy as I Thought&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Well I asked dad if I could go to the movie shoot for "Acrobatic Phenomenon" but he said... "WHAT?! ABSOLUTELY NOT! You can go once you show me that you've raised your C's to A's and your disgusting D to a at least a B!" So yeah... I hate him sometimes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Hey Ronnie!" I said when he came to the door about a second after my dad yelled at me. I actually forgot that it was our date! So since I was mad at my dad, I did something really stupid. I went and got all over Ronnie! "Oh you smell so good, Ronnie! Are you wearing colone?" I could see my dad's face steaming with anger and Ronnie's face was glowing pink! So I just said, "Let's go Ronnie! We have a movie to get to!" And then I left. I could hear my dad cursing as I left, and Ronnie seemed a little scared. But if he's going to like wet his pants during our date, then I am so going to slap some sense into him! Right when I stepped into his car, I knew this date wasn't going to turn out well... I saw that all of his music albums were like, the Pussycat Dolls, and stupid girly bands that wear skimpy clothing. Right now... I regret saying yes to this offer of a date. His car is trashy, he has an ugly tie on, and he has wierd music in his car! Ugh! But if I get Orlando Blume, then everything will be okay! He will ask me to marry him and then I will say yes and we would live happily ever after in his mansion! Except I think my mansion is bigger than his! Because I'm awesome! Okay! Guess what Ronnie is talking about?! He is talking about how he had to raise HIS grades to buy this "one of a kind classic" car! I can't believe that we would have the slightest thing in common! He just was blabbering the rest of the car ride and when we got to the theater, I saw a sign up outside that said, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Come &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;buy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;tickets &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;see &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Orlando &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Blume's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Premier of the Acrobatic Phenominon! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;For sale inside! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Oh my god! Ahh!!!!!!!!!!!! I am sooooooooooooo buying those tickets! I'm so excited! I guess Ronnie saw me looking at the poster and he started saying how that movie looks really bad! Can you believe that?! He started saying that it looked really bad! He new I looked interested in Orlando Blume! Ugh! Now I hate him even more! And I guess I kinda expressed my feelings in my face a little too much because he stopped talking right away. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-1359104473927724395?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/1359104473927724395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=1359104473927724395' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/1359104473927724395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/1359104473927724395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-have-really-big-house-in-miami.html' title='I Have a Really Big House in Miami!'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-854157152185360650</id><published>2008-11-07T14:10:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T14:15:56.753-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Middle School Tale</title><content type='html'>Chapter 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The End&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;     I fell asleep in class. And if you hadn't noticed already, I talk in my sleep a lot. So I accidentally said that I like Kyle outloud. Then he asked me out on another date at the movie theater. But believe me, I said no. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-854157152185360650?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/854157152185360650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=854157152185360650' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/854157152185360650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/854157152185360650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2008/11/middle-school-tale_07.html' title='The Middle School Tale'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-3538049194160905292</id><published>2008-11-07T13:33:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T14:08:18.814-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Middle School Tale</title><content type='html'>Chapter 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Dreams&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;     I can't believe this is happening! I thought. But it turns out I said that out loud also. I always say things out loud that I don't try to! It's annoying! I was about to literally die of fear. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"This isn't really happening!" a voice from behind the shadows said in a mysterious way. I was too confused to think about what it was actually saying. "You only think this is happening. You think this is real life, but this is what you are imagining. In your language it is commonly known as a dream." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"WHAT?!" It was too much to handle. I felt like a super human being and I burst out of the chair. The ropes had loosened anyway. This is not a dream! I feel the pain in my arm! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"No you don't. You &lt;em&gt;think &lt;/em&gt;you feel the pain, that's why you think you have an injury." 'The thing seems to hear my thoughts.' I thought. "That's because I &lt;strong&gt;am &lt;/strong&gt;your thoughts. I am you. And now I'm telling you to run. Your dream is about to get dangerous." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"DANGEROUS?!" I screamed to myself. Outloud. "YOU MEAN THE REST OF THIS ISN'T A DANGEROUS?!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Kandy?" someone said in a &lt;strong&gt;very &lt;/strong&gt;concerned voice. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"What?" I screamed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Are you alright?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I woke up. My mom was hovering over me looking deep into face. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"What?" I was so tired. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"I think you had a bad dream." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Huh?" my eyeslids fluttered open and closed.&lt;br /&gt;"You were screaming and saying things like your arm was bleeding, and vampires, and things being really dangerous. Do I need to take you in to the doctor?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Umm...no. I'm fine. I just need some water." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Okay well... hurry up. You have to go to school today. Don't be so tired that you will fall asleep in class." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Don't worry. I won't." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-3538049194160905292?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/3538049194160905292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=3538049194160905292' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/3538049194160905292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/3538049194160905292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2008/11/middle-school-tale.html' title='The Middle School Tale'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-7738599380267217776</id><published>2008-10-31T13:35:00.016-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T12:59:53.964-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Middle School Tale</title><content type='html'>Chapter 6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm Afraid This is the End&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;     I looked at Steven in bewildered eyes. "Ahh!" I screamed. I couldn't help it. All the words and questions just slipped out! "Who are you? What are you doing with us? What do you want? You can't get away with this!" The tattooed man slapped me across the face. I started sobbing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Shut up!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"What do you want from me?!" I cried. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"I want your life." He pulled out a dagger and a part of it glistened from the sliver of light showing through the shades on the window. I couldn't think. I completely forgot about Steven and Kyle and Karen and Amy and Gabriella. I just suddenly felt this rush of energy. I tried to burst out of the ropes on the chair, but they were too tight and well knotted. I was stuck in a room with an angry, violent man with scary tattoos of dragons and daggers plunging into people's chest's. But worst of all, he had a dagger and an expression that will haunt me forever if I get out of here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"What are you going to do to me?" I asked sheepishly. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Well, you'll just have to find out by watching me demonstrate on this boy here."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;As I watched in horror at the terrible torturing happening in front of my face, the screams of Stephan silenced me. The room fell black. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; ○•○•○&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;     I awoke with a jolt. I find that the underbelly of my elbow has been sliced through. I wasn't thinking very well. But strangely enough, it wasn't bleeding at all. The pain stung like I've never encountered. My head hurt. I looked around and saw a chair lying on the floor. 'That must be why my head hurts so much. He must have whacked me with that.' I put my hand up to my head but only to feel that a cold hand was placed there. I screamed with much effort and tried to tug it off. I couldn't turn my head around, so I had no way of knowing who was there. Then the man came around. But it wasn't a man at all. It was some sort of creature that had blood smeared around his mouth and hands. I looked at the blood around his mouth and teeth, then looked to my arm. It hit me. This creature was a vampire. When I looked up from my arm, it's eyes were about a centimeter away from mine. "Hello Kandy." It said in a deep, menacing voice. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-7738599380267217776?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/7738599380267217776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=7738599380267217776' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/7738599380267217776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/7738599380267217776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2008/10/middle-school-tale.html' title='The Middle School Tale'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-2896240280279870850</id><published>2008-10-24T13:43:00.013-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T13:57:45.093-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have a Really Big House In Miami!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;Chapter 2&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Orlando Blume is Mine!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;     I want a boyfriend! I'm ready for one after my hard breakup with Ben. But I don't want one that is just like a jock who flirts with girls just to show off to his guy friends! So Ronnie said that we will go out to a movie then dinner at the Rich Diner. It sounds okay, but Ronnie doesn't appeal to me. Sofia Vasolopolis was giving me the evil eye the whole day! It's so much fun to annoy other people! Some parents and students say I'm bratty, but I don't know what they're talking about! I think I'm just confindent. They should have more confidence! I'm bored with my life. There isn't enough things to do. I mean, it's not like I don't live in Miami with a gigantic movie theater and tons of teenagers to hang out with, but I am too good for them! Today I went to talk to dad about my report card.  He got SUPER mad at me because I got a C in American Studies and French. And a D in English!  I know I shouldn't have gotton any of those but, I REALLY HATE ENGLISH!  And my brother gets those grades all the time!  But he has A.D.D and &lt;strong&gt;always &lt;/strong&gt;uses it as an excuse!  I know it's harder for him, but even if he doesn't try at all, they let it go because they think it's the A.D.D. that's causing it!  My life is suckish!  Even though I have a GIGANTIC wardrobe, lots of boys like me, and I am one of the popular girls in school... I think my life needs some more excitement!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;◘•◘•◘&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;     Okay!  You know how I said my life needs some more excitement?  Well... Orlando Blume is my excitement!  He just came to Miami and is doing a movie shoot!  And since dad is so rich, he can get me to go to that movie shoot!  I think Orlando Blume could fall for me!  I mean, I'm pretty, popular, well dressed, and I'm pretty smart!  And I've been around celebrities all the time!  Most of them are pretty full of themselves (which I totally am not!)!  But I know how to communicate with them and not get them mad!  So if Orlando Blume is selfish, then he's mine!  But if he's a normal person... well... we'll just have to wait and see!  But dad will NEVER let me go to the movie shoot with two C's and a D!  So I have to ask for some extra credit!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-2896240280279870850?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/2896240280279870850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=2896240280279870850' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/2896240280279870850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/2896240280279870850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-have-really-big-house-in-miami.html' title='I Have a Really Big House In Miami!'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-2858350546067702512</id><published>2008-10-24T13:35:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T13:41:14.968-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I Need Another Idea for My Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Hey guys! For all the "Middle School Tale" fans out there, I need ideas for chapter 5! I'm not sure what should happen! If I don't think of anything soon, I will use my favorite one that someone suggests in a comment! When I am done with the series, I am going to try to make it look like it was actually published, so if you want a brief moment of fame in a story that I will make copies of, then you should submit on a comment a really good idea for chapter 5 and even after! I will give credit to you if I pick yours! I NEED HELP! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-2858350546067702512?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/2858350546067702512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=2858350546067702512' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/2858350546067702512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/2858350546067702512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-need-another-idea-for-my-story.html' title='I Need Another Idea for My Story'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-7124184347987868569</id><published>2008-10-23T13:12:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T13:43:04.605-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have a Really Big House in Miami!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Chapter One&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am just a normal 16 year old girl. Except that I live in one of the biggest and voted nicest of mansions in Miami, Florida. Everyone in Miami knows that my dad owns the Crest business for toothpaste. You wouldn’t think that the man who owns our house is the president of Crest! In case you don’t know what Crest is, it’s a toothpaste company that is extremely famous. My dad owns it! So you can guess how big my room is! And my wardrobe! I have 543 shirts, 342 blouses, 89 pairs of jeans, about… 600 dresses, 29 gowns, 289 pairs of real pants, and 507 skirts! Not including a lot of undergarments. I’m not even going to count all my accessories! And it would take too long to count all of my purses and pairs of shoes. It is so dorky to wear something more than once! That’s why I go shopping every Saturday and Sunday! I go to Gifted Miami High School. I don’t know why they call the “Gifted” Miami High School! I mean, we all get good grades and stuff but… the only thing that is different about me and the kids at my school, is our parents are all crazy rich!&lt;br /&gt;Today at school, Ronnie asked me out! I can’t believe it! He is so disgusting and perverted! But I have to go out with him. Because Sofia Vasalopolis, who is like the biggest you-know-what at our school and most bratty, and jerky, and popular girl Gifted Miami High School, and, did I mention that she is like a Greek goddess, is like, in love with him, so I have to go out with him to make her mad! Then she’ll crack and become crazy and no one will want to be around her anymore! And then she won’t be the most popular girl at school because I will! Except that might be a lot to hope for…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-7124184347987868569?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/7124184347987868569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=7124184347987868569' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/7124184347987868569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/7124184347987868569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-dont-know-what-title-should-be-yet.html' title='I Have a Really Big House in Miami!'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-38885333382697204</id><published>2008-10-16T10:37:00.015-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-17T13:53:26.070-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Time at the Jousting Tournament</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;     Today, I went to a jousting tournament. On the way there, I met a handsome, young gentleman. He seemed very interested in me because he came up to me and started engaging in conversation! He said "Hello! Where is this lovely lady heading off this fine afternoon?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"I'm going jousting tournament, sir." He was very handsome and flirty. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Well...we shall go there together!" He linked his arm with mine. We walked together until we got to our seats in the arena. There were TONS of people there! Then the jousting tournament began. During the first half, we chatted and had fun being flirtatous. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;     Then... his "wife" came up to us and yelled furiously, then took the handsome, young gentleman away. I was a more than a little mad at him! And a little emmbarresed. But I got over it by the time the jousting tournament was done, and I stormed from the premises. On my way out, I saw him and his wife heading out also. He looked rather red and bored, while his wife looked very content with herself! &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-38885333382697204?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/38885333382697204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=38885333382697204' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/38885333382697204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/38885333382697204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2008/10/today-i-went-to-jousting-tournament.html' title='My Time at the Jousting Tournament'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-7289058515078204069</id><published>2008-10-16T10:22:00.012-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-23T13:22:15.268-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A True Story With a Bloody Hand!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;My best friend and I were raking leaves in my neighbor's front yard. Dorothy's mom had gone for a bike ride. It was a little chilly outside and the leaves were yellow, orange, and red. Then Brenda, Dorthy's mom, came from around the corner of the street walking with her bike. At first I didn't see anything wrong with her or her bike. Then she said "Hey guys!" Look at this!" She held up her blood covered hand. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"Eww! Nasty!" Me and Dorothy both screamed. I thought it was one of those fake Halloween costume things. "That is SO not real!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"Yes it is!" Brenda said smiling. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"Then how come it's not dripping?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"It's all dried!" She was talking in a voice that was dripping with laughter, not blood. She managed to shake of a drop. It took her a long time to shake it off because it did look really dry. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"How did it happen?!" we both asked. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"I was turning and ran into a wall!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Now isn't that crazy?! She runs into a wall of her bike, gets a dried up, bloody hand, shakes off a rubbery looking drop of blood, and is still laughing about it! She said it didn't even hurt because it went numb! I am never going to rake leaves on a chilly November day for those neighbors again, after Brenda had gone for a bike ride! Unless they give me a lot of money for it! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;The reason this story has stuck with me since, I don't know... 4th grade? is because it was crazy and stupid and I never thought something like that would ever happen! But it sounds like Brenda to always keep laughing! &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/785813087091789316-7289058515078204069?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/7289058515078204069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=7289058515078204069' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/7289058515078204069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/7289058515078204069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2008/10/true-story.html' title='A True Story With a Bloody Hand!'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-5012761306287882200</id><published>2008-10-16T10:13:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T10:22:25.349-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Big Japanese Roller Coaster!</title><content type='html'>"But she &lt;strong&gt;wants&lt;/strong&gt; to!"&lt;br /&gt;"But she shouldn't!"&lt;br /&gt;"She wants to ride this gigantic roller coaster! And she should! They wouldn't have one this big if it couldn't work!"&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, but it's the biggest in the whole world! And it's in Japan! You always hear about roller coaster crashes and accidents!"&lt;br /&gt;"So?"&lt;br /&gt;"You can tell she is nervous about it and is trying to decide to go on it, only because her cousin's are, and she doesn't want to feel left out!"&lt;br /&gt;"So she should go on and not feel left out!"&lt;br /&gt;"But she doesn't really want to and right now she's thinking 'With things like this with my cousins, I &lt;strong&gt;always &lt;/strong&gt;feel left out!' Do you really want her to go on something this stupid, JUST TO FIT IN?!" "Of cour....! Uh... you got a point there. You're right. She shouldn't go on it. It's stupid."&lt;br /&gt;"Why, thank you. Her cousins are being stupid!"&lt;br /&gt;(Now this is what the human girl says)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Never in my life am I going on anything as idiotic as that!" Her cousins were impressed. All she's ever done to stand up for herself was to yell "Shut up!" Now, she's risen a level.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-5012761306287882200?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/5012761306287882200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=5012761306287882200' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/5012761306287882200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/5012761306287882200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2008/10/big-japanese-roller-coaster.html' title='Big Japanese Roller Coaster!'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-8475167565788860782</id><published>2008-10-03T14:06:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T14:08:39.808-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid Blog</title><content type='html'>Sorry guys! My second chapter of The Middle School Tale accidentally got deleted and there was no undo button! Sorry! I hope all you guys who were interested already read it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-8475167565788860782?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/8475167565788860782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=8475167565788860782' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/8475167565788860782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/8475167565788860782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2008/10/stupid-blog.html' title='Stupid Blog'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-1991754300485922790</id><published>2008-10-03T13:44:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T13:48:20.726-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Recomendations</title><content type='html'>Hey guys! I don't know how long I should go on with "The Middle School Tale"! And I'm also thinking of a different title for the series but I can't come up with anything! Any suggestions? How many chapters should I keep doing for the story? I don't know! Tell me how much you think I should continue for ten or more chapters! And if not, tell me how long I &lt;em&gt;should &lt;/em&gt;continue it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-1991754300485922790?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/1991754300485922790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=1991754300485922790' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/1991754300485922790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/1991754300485922790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2008/10/recomendations.html' title='Recomendations'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-3616155957989190433</id><published>2008-10-02T12:49:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T12:53:10.882-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Homework</title><content type='html'>Homework, homework, homework! It's really a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hassle&lt;/span&gt;! I do not like doing things like that at home. I do not mind doing worksheets and stuff at school, because I'm already in the educational zone, but doing it at home is a real pain! Because their are so many more things you could do instead of homework that are fun. Like hanging out with your best friend, playing on the computer, and organizing pranks on your really bratty neighbor! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Ugh&lt;/span&gt;! Homework!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-3616155957989190433?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/3616155957989190433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=3616155957989190433' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/3616155957989190433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/3616155957989190433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2008/10/homework.html' title='Homework'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-4046169669790937956</id><published>2008-09-25T12:46:00.026-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T12:48:38.408-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Middle School Tale</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Chapter 4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;The Jealousy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Then I heard Gabriella. She had lost it! She started screaming and throwing a temper tantrum! I could just hear what she was thinking! "I can't believe her! I'm better than her!" That was probably what she was thinking but she said it out loud also. She wasn't my only friend. I had a few other friends also. Like Karen and Amy! Yeah... I guess they were my friends. But Gabriella had really lost it! She accidentally (I think) knocked over Stephan's soda! Then she stormed out of the movie theater while still screaming words I couldn't understand or &lt;em&gt;wanted&lt;/em&gt; to understand! My head was off of Kyle's shoulder by now, and Stephan was staring at me. He looked really hurt. Or he knew something that was hurtful to him or someone else. Maybe like Gabriella. Kyle seemed really embarrassed and I felt bad for him. He just witnessed a 8th grade female breakdown. Stephan left the theater. Right then, the "Silence is Golden" came on the movie theater screen and you could still hear Gabriella yelling in the distance! No one had the nerve to laugh. EVERYONE was staring at me and Kyle. Then the movie started. The first split second was someone getting murdered. And it really surprised me so I yelped and, without trying to, clinged onto Kyle. Everyone was still in shock at what Gabriella had done and couldn't believe it. It was almost scarier than the movie! And then everyone except Kyle looked at me with anger in their eyes. I didn't know what was going on, so I asked Kyle. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"I'm not mad at you Kandy. But everyone else is." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Why?!" I almost yelled because I was so confused. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Apparently, Gabriella really likes me and she said that you only went out with me to make her mad."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"WHAT?!" I screamed. "That is so not true!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"She told it to me on IM and then sent the chat to everyone."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Oh my god." I felt like crying. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"She also said... that you don't even like me and that you were just pretending."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"I-I...I..." I didn't know what to say. Because that was true before but now I think I'm starting to like him for real. And that will probably get Gabriella even more mad! And I didn't think that was possible! I could tell Kyle was hurt. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"HEY!" We heard a man yell from the back doors of the movie theater. "That's her!" Everyone turned their heads to see a young, African American man with a lot of tatoo's. Him and his gang were all glaring at me with determination in their eyes. "Oh. My. God." I breathed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-4046169669790937956?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/4046169669790937956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=4046169669790937956' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/4046169669790937956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/4046169669790937956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2008/09/middle-school-tale_25.html' title='The Middle School Tale'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-5123569223020308684</id><published>2008-09-18T10:12:00.022-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T13:12:00.406-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Middle School Tale</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Chapter 3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The&lt;em&gt; &lt;strong&gt;HUGE&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Date&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;     As I was looking at Kyle who seemed very hyper, something caught my eye. He looked kind of excited too. "Kyle... excited?!" I thought sarcastically. And then I could understand why he was excited. I looked behind him and saw Gabriella and Stephan coming towards us. Gabriella looked very content with herself and Stephan looked bored. "Look! My best friend and your best friend have come to keep us company!" I guess he didn't know about the fight. Now I can't believe that Gabriella would do something like this! I know why she did though. She did it as revenge. But she didn't know that Kyle was blackmailing me. But now it would be extremely awkward. Until everyone else came. This huge herd came stomping our way. A big group of about 14 people! They were all eight graders also. And included some of my other friends too. They were all dates. Seven couples! I can't believe it! But as long as Stephan didn't know what I accidentally blurted out, then I was happy! At least now it would be a lot less awkward! Now I don't have to talk to Gabriella. I can talk to all the other girls and boys. So Kyle took my hand and brought me to the ticket booth. I could tell the woman in the ticket booth was scared of all the teenagers! But we all bought tickets for "The Bloodhound". I hate it when guys think if you take your date to a scary movie that you will get more action or something! Except that might be true now because I HATE scary movies and I didn't really want to see it, but oh well! I made sure not to sit near Gabriella. Instead, I sat next to Amy and Karen. Amy is a SUPER girly-girl, but she's really nice. She was there with Max. Another popular boy. And Karen who is more of a tom-boy, came to the movies with Cody. Who is pretty cute. Karen is a bit defensive. "How are you?" Kyle asked. "Uncomfortable" is what I wanted to say but didn't. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;"I'm fine." I managed to say. You know, Kyle is really cute. He has gray eyes and chestnut hair. But for some reason, I just don't feel anything for him yet. I don't know why I said "yet". I was scared when the previews started, and I didn't know what to do. But luckily, Amy leaned over and started whispering in my ear. Well I think that she was trying to whisper, but actually she was talking rather loudly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;"You and Kyle are such a cute couple!" she said so about half of the people could hear her. I was so embarrassed. Kyle put his arm around me. If he tries a move, I am going to slap him across the face! But he was just looking at the movie screen. And then he did something that made me get goosebumps. He didn't try the move, but he turned his head and looked at me. He gave a warm smile and then I felt comfortable enough to put my head on his shoulder. And that's exactly what I did. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;"Aww!" was the girls' reply! I actually wouldn't mind being his girlfriend! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-5123569223020308684?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/5123569223020308684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=5123569223020308684' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/5123569223020308684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/5123569223020308684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2008/09/middle-school-tale_18.html' title='The Middle School Tale'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-2469370517415209716</id><published>2008-09-12T13:32:00.036-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T13:32:41.752-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Middle School Tale</title><content type='html'>Chapter 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Attempted Kidnapping&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I was too confused to think. What did the creepy guy want with me? He was staring at me through disturbed eyes. His gang was there too and they looked angry. They were pointing to me and everyone was staring at me. I didn't know what to do. Some big, brave looking guy who was watching the movie, stood up and asked what the gang members were doing in the theater. The leader, the man who came and cursed at me earlier, shoved the large man and he fell, without grace, to the red theater seats. Then, faster than you can say "Run!", a huge fist fight went out. All the men in the theater could see that the gang member wanted to do something nasty and illegal to me, so they all went to stand up for me. The first punch was thrown by one of the gang members. Not the leader or man that got shoved. It was bad. I looked around and people were lying, injured and beaten, across the theater. This was all happening when someone was getting murdered in the movie. I was scared. I looked around again, and all my friends were going out the emergency exit. Kyle was still next to me. He was shaking furiously. He seemed like he was in shock. "Kyle?" He didn't answer. Instead he pushed me away, but gently. He charged to the gang. "KYLE NO!" The next thing I know... I hear a gunshot. Blood covers the floor. And then... everything goes black. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;♪♀☺♪♀☺&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I wake up and I'm staring at a ceiling. My head is hurting unbearably. I gently lift my body up to look around. I get shoved back roughly. I'm in a bed. It's pretty comfortable actually. I see a black man with tattoo's. He backs away so I can see Stephan moaning on the ground with blood coming out of his leg. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-2469370517415209716?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/2469370517415209716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=2469370517415209716' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/2469370517415209716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/2469370517415209716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2008/09/middle-school-tale.html' title='The Middle School Tale'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785813087091789316.post-6361318318667645479</id><published>2008-09-09T17:08:00.057-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T08:52:32.664-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Middle School Tale</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;Chapter One &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The Embarrassment&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I was walking through&lt;/span&gt; the park by myself at 10:30 PM. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Now, I know what you’re thinking! You're thinking: Why would she be walking through&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; the park by herself at 10:30 PM? And I understand you. But what happened was my mom&lt;/span&gt; got really mad at me because I failed my second subject. I've never been that good at school, but now, since I’m in middle school, things are harder. I failed my Math SOL. And now I just found out I failed my Science SOL also! My parents have tested me for OCD, ADD, ADHD, and Dyslexia! But I have none of them. And even though the few friends that I have, keep telling me it’s not because I’m stupid, I know it is. And they and my parents know it also. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;So my mom got really mad and completely blew up on me and started crying. So she told me to go outside and think about how I can improve my attitude about school. So right now, I’m walking through a deserted playground about a mile away from my house. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I wasn’t actually thinking about how I can improve my attitude about school, I was thinking about where I will go when I run away. And I WILL run away! Soon. And then without trying to, I accidentally said out loud, "When I run away, I want to run away with Steven." I went to swing on the swings and I thought I heard a snicker. Like a teenage boy laughing. I didn’t see anyone, so I decided to ignore it. And then, about five silent minutes later, I heard a door open. Or that’s what it sounded like. It sounded like a wood door opening very squeakily. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Then I saw a beam of light coming from the sky. It wasn’t lightning, because there was no storm. And it wasn’t search lights because nothing criminal-like had happened. It wasn’t that big. In fact, it was rather tiny. Actually, it was a strip about the size of a piece of spaghetti. It was nearly 60 feet away so I could barely see it. It was by the baseball field. Then, when the door opened completely, a blinding light came out. It was so bright that I had to shield my face. I couldn’t believe that it didn’t wake up everyone around the area. &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;When I looked back there was something that looked like a tissue. But then it started to get a shape. It looked almost like a little person. It was floating in the air and moving up toward the sky. I couldn’t tell what it was. I thought it was one of those remote controlled kite things, but as it moved towards me I could see that it was foreign. It looked as if it was staring at me, even though I couldn’t see any eyes. I was scared and started to run, but right when I turned around someone grabbed me. I couldn’t scream, and I couldn’t run. I was terrified. "I was being kidnapped" I thought. Then I woke up!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;As I awoke in the classroom, everyone was staring at me. At first I couldn't figure out why or what had happened. But then I looked at the note right in front of my sleepy face. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Kandy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;You fell asleep in class! And you were talking in your sleep and EVERYONE &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;heard you say you want to run away with Steven. You are so lucky that &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Steven isn't in this class. I grabbed you to wake you up. Sorry Kandy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Your concerned friend, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Gabriella &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Oh my god! I can't believe it! I was sleeping in class and everyone heard me admit that I like Steven! And that I want to run away with him! I'll have to live with a bag covering my face for the rest of my life! Aah! But even though Steven isn't in this class, his best friend Kyle is. And he, with no doubt, is going to tell him right after this class ends! Steven is the most popular guy in my grade! And even though I was looking at the clock and trying to avert every one's gaze, I could feel almost 30 pairs of eyes staring at me. This class ends in 3 minutes! I HAD to work something out with Kyle! Like a bet or something! So I started to think. I couldn't make up anything but luckily I didn't need to. Kyle passed me a note. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Nice going Kandy! Hahaha! I'm sure you don't want Steven to know. So I've worked up a plan. If you &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;will go out with me, then I won't tell him about what you said!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Ugh! I can't believe him! Well actually I can. He's always been a player. And he's always flirted with me and Gabriella and tons of other girls! But I know Gabriella likes him, and I don't want to make her mad, but I have to take his offer. He usually doesn't go out with a girl for more than a week, so it can't be that bad. And Steven CANNOT find out about what I accidentally said. But then I thought of something. This is the note I sent back to Kyle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;You are such a schemer! Someone else can tell Steven you know! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I hate you,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Kandy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I could see that Gabriella was watching everything I was doing. This is the note Kyle sent me back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Don't worry about that. I got it covered. Saturday, at 7:00. We're going to see "The Bloodhound".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/785813087091789316-6361318318667645479?l=hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/feeds/6361318318667645479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=785813087091789316&amp;postID=6361318318667645479' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/6361318318667645479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/785813087091789316/posts/default/6361318318667645479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hbw08doodlbop.blogspot.com/2008/09/discovery.html' title='The Middle School Tale'/><author><name>sammy411</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03594916858354151027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
