<?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-34089134</id><updated>2012-01-16T14:48:30.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More Than Just A Shirt</title><subtitle type='html'>The life, times and adventures of a quiet, unassuming blue Hawaiian shirt,&lt;br&gt; 
simply known as the OsShirt...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>45</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-395804954903453655</id><published>2011-04-11T12:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-12T12:26:04.846-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pool Party, and Other Things!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_QbKuOCNuEY/TaOFPP_J92I/AAAAAAAAAxg/2WFSY_qrKBA/s1600/DSCF0848%257E.JPG" target="_blank" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_QbKuOCNuEY/TaOFPP_J92I/AAAAAAAAAxg/2WFSY_qrKBA/s200/DSCF0848%257E.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594461659160246114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6EhMAfUJ-_w/TaOGwtWsHjI/AAAAAAAAAyI/-dN-oT4NV0o/s1600/DSC04793.JPG" target="_blank" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6EhMAfUJ-_w/TaOGwtWsHjI/AAAAAAAAAyI/-dN-oT4NV0o/s200/DSC04793.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594463333490892338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;There wasn't much turnaround time after arriving at the big guy's place.  He apparently has gotten caught up in this whole "traveling all over the place" thing.  No sooner do I arrive back in Montana, than I'm packed up, ready to join him in meeting up with some old friends!  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was off to the Empire state to spend the weekend on Long Island &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 141px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K1Z6uqL-pg4/TaOFPEGa3XI/AAAAAAAAAxo/T_vALPSBdhQ/s200/1c.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594461655969488242" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;with &lt;a href="http://btexpress.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;BTExpress&lt;/a&gt;, and his girlfriend &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m73p_gRdZWs/TaOGwbsypxI/AAAAAAAAAyA/CB-Z9VBbgwQ/s200/DSCF0855.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594463328751757074" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://rhymeandretro.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Lori&lt;/a&gt;.  BTE was throwing a party to show off his new pool/landscaping in his back yard, and the big guy jumped all over that opportunity!  BTE and I met when I was in &lt;a href="http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2006/10/wolverine-country.html" target="_blank"&gt;Detroit&lt;/a&gt;, and the big guy had met the both of them at his birthday soiree a few years ago.  As a surprise for BTE, the always lovely &lt;a href="http://summer713.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Shizzle&lt;/a&gt; showed up to spice up the day! It was great to &lt;a href="http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2010/09/shazam-its-shizzle.html" target="_blank"&gt;see her again&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yikEEnvKArE/TaOFPXnPnzI/AAAAAAAAAxw/OHlsYH_vUsg/s1600/DSC_4485-1024x791.jpg" target="_blank" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 154px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yikEEnvKArE/TaOFPXnPnzI/AAAAAAAAAxw/OHlsYH_vUsg/s200/DSC_4485-1024x791.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594461661207437106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EPFGilssm70/TaSX6t2cn5I/AAAAAAAAAyY/ZO5xXNeLVQc/s1600/DSCF0879%257E.JPG" target="_blank" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 104px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EPFGilssm70/TaSX6t2cn5I/AAAAAAAAAyY/ZO5xXNeLVQc/s200/DSCF0879%257E.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594763672097169298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;There was drinking, eating, swimming, chatting... Really a wonderful afternoon! As the chicken on the grill was just getting ready to be served, &lt;a href="http://hubmanshangout.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Hubman&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.anothersuburbanmom.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Another Suburban Mom&lt;/a&gt; came around the corner! Lots more fun ensued, and more pics were taken.  Hubman and ASM hadn't seen each other in quite a few weeks (he'd been off on business half a country away) so they were more interested in getting reacquainted than sticking around with the rest of us.  Which is understandable.  The next thing I know, everyone else is skinny-dipping in the pool, and I'm left on the side to watch.  Which wasn't such a bad thing...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6XzItuZ8Ej8/TaOR-768BjI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/soZJwSHWITM/s1600/cropped%2Bshirt.jpg" target="_blank" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 125px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6XzItuZ8Ej8/TaOR-768BjI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/soZJwSHWITM/s200/cropped%2Bshirt.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594475672547100210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Before heading back to Montana, the big guy had a lunch date with &lt;a href="http://minorityreportunderground.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Minority Report&lt;/a&gt;.  They met up near LaGuardia,  and had a very nice lunch.  There was some time left before her train left, so we all took a quick trip to a nearby park, where she and I met face to face, as it were.  A quick meeting, unfortunately, but a wonderful one!  Hopefully we'll get to meet up again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I ended up going back to Montana, but little did I realize what was on the agenda next!  Passport requirements had to be checked!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-395804954903453655?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/395804954903453655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=395804954903453655&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/395804954903453655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/395804954903453655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2011/04/pool-party-and-other-things.html' title='Pool Party, and Other Things!'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_QbKuOCNuEY/TaOFPP_J92I/AAAAAAAAAxg/2WFSY_qrKBA/s72-c/DSCF0848%257E.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-1292942674932124318</id><published>2011-02-13T00:01:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T09:19:48.535-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Debauchery!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rHlyQkdIFJg/TVb7-D5C0wI/AAAAAAAAAv8/3FbvWRx7slE/s1600/IMG_1087.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rHlyQkdIFJg/TVb7-D5C0wI/AAAAAAAAAv8/3FbvWRx7slE/s240/IMG_1087.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572918632532595458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uZVryip9dac/TVb72TyHn8I/AAAAAAAAAv0/fKrVGUBPlxA/s1600/P7011401.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uZVryip9dac/TVb72TyHn8I/AAAAAAAAAv0/fKrVGUBPlxA/s200/P7011401.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572918499359563714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I left the waters of Minnesota and my newest friend and was headed west, to the mountains of Colorado and the phenomenon known as &lt;a href="http://blue-eyedvixen.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Vixen&lt;/a&gt;.  Rumor had it that she had blue eyes, so I was excited to meet her and see how I would match up.  No sooner had I arrived, I was packed away into her suitcase, full of bikini parts.  Rather than exploring Colorado, I would be traveling with her to sunny California (once again).  This time, to meet up with her best friend &lt;a href="http://westcoastweirdo.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Roxy&lt;/a&gt;.  And a full weekend of debauchery!  Of course, the journal I've been traveling with had to be checked out.  There might be some top-secret stories and pictures in there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ajP0CDmq9z8/TVb_ekh1pLI/AAAAAAAAAwE/Sj8RL_MKhXI/s1600/EmSadie.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ajP0CDmq9z8/TVb_ekh1pLI/AAAAAAAAAwE/Sj8RL_MKhXI/s240/EmSadie.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572922489584329906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LeyO45zZ1Tw/TVcBvEm1WTI/AAAAAAAAAwM/W96xlxIL0hc/s1600/Vixen%2Bdancing.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LeyO45zZ1Tw/TVcBvEm1WTI/AAAAAAAAAwM/W96xlxIL0hc/s240/Vixen%2Bdancing.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572924972096379186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;What I hadn't realized is that Vixen and Roxy take pictures of &lt;i&gt;everything&lt;/i&gt;! The sheer volume of pictures is staggering!  What you're seeing here is a drop in the bucket. And since this is a somewhat family-oriented blog, there's many that will never show up here! That being said, things started out innocently enough.  Even Roxy's dog Sadie got in on the act!  But soon the tequila came out, and Vixen started dancing, and the fun was just beginning.  And that was just the first night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m_LmxKnaock/TVcGCLUnVFI/AAAAAAAAAwU/g3et1W2Zuig/s1600/P7040200.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m_LmxKnaock/TVcGCLUnVFI/AAAAAAAAAwU/g3et1W2Zuig/s240/P7040200.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572929698363036754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The tequila started flowing early the next day. I'm not sure why there's a crossing sign near the pool. There was nary a train in sight!  Then again, there were lots of things I saw that I didn't understand.  Vixen and Roxy might have had a bit of rivalry going on, trying to gain my affections.  Sure, they played nice at first, having their pictures taken with me together.  Then all hell broke loose...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jUNw_QhwcDk/TVcIGpoFZ5I/AAAAAAAAAwc/F05RdmDGwCc/s1600/BrandiEm%2Bmolest%2BOs%2Bshirt.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jUNw_QhwcDk/TVcIGpoFZ5I/AAAAAAAAAwc/F05RdmDGwCc/s240/BrandiEm%2Bmolest%2BOs%2Bshirt.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572931974240495506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JfnCyIlKGCI/TVcIb31m24I/AAAAAAAAAwk/b1jF9M09kBw/s1600/Os%2Bshirt%2BBrandie%2Bdown%2Bunder.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JfnCyIlKGCI/TVcIb31m24I/AAAAAAAAAwk/b1jF9M09kBw/s240/Os%2Bshirt%2BBrandie%2Bdown%2Bunder.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572932338832563074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm not sure how, or who started it, but all of a sudden I found my self in a wrestling match between the two of them.  Next thing I know, Roxy's going after Vixen for wearing me.  Then Vixen attacks Roxy, who somehow got me away.  It was fierce, and you can see Roxy doing her best to fend off Vixen's attacks.  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TgvbBQxjUIo/TVcIzcdgFRI/AAAAAAAAAws/UEul4rZU6p8/s1600/P7040182.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TgvbBQxjUIo/TVcIzcdgFRI/AAAAAAAAAws/UEul4rZU6p8/s240/P7040182.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572932743800558866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;At some point, Roxy's husband got involved, and the two of them joined forces and turned on him! &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-07O075l6FUY/TVcJXtw1ScI/AAAAAAAAAw0/q1ve30oNhA8/s1600/Sitting%2B1.b.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-07O075l6FUY/TVcJXtw1ScI/AAAAAAAAAw0/q1ve30oNhA8/s240/Sitting%2B1.b.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572933366920333762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;There's pictures of that, too, but the nudity was just too much to bear.  I had to keep my eyes shut.  As best I could...  Eventually, Vixen was sent away to sit by herself in a "timeout". Well, by herself, with me.  After a brief cooling off period, calmer heads prevailed, someone suggested more tequila, and things quickly returned to normal.  Well, what passes as "normal" to these people!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yopNWlgYaRs/TVcLnvk5sjI/AAAAAAAAAw8/PXklJezxWYQ/s1600/RoxyVixen%2Bass-%2BOs%2Bshirt.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 297px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yopNWlgYaRs/TVcLnvk5sjI/AAAAAAAAAw8/PXklJezxWYQ/s320/RoxyVixen%2Bass-%2BOs%2Bshirt.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572935841308324402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Vixen and Roxy made up in the end, so to speak.  And soon it was time for me to go.  A quick trip back to Colorado, and I was off to meet up with the big guy, who was going to take me to meet up with some old (and new) friends!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-1292942674932124318?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/1292942674932124318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=1292942674932124318&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/1292942674932124318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/1292942674932124318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2011/02/debauchery.html' title='Debauchery!'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rHlyQkdIFJg/TVb7-D5C0wI/AAAAAAAAAv8/3FbvWRx7slE/s72-c/IMG_1087.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-3413885779050694388</id><published>2011-01-18T00:01:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-18T08:32:47.786-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Off to the North Star State!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TTUdhbajRWI/AAAAAAAAAu8/cMOJYH_Qu9I/s1600/May%2B2010%2B031.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 140px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TTUdhbajRWI/AAAAAAAAAu8/cMOJYH_Qu9I/s200/May%2B2010%2B031.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563385374818125154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I was headed back north.  North to the "Land of 10,000 Lakes".  The state that hosts the city considered the coldest in the lower 48.  Mosquitoes so thick that they block out the sun in the summer.  Home to Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox.  Certainly a change from the urban sprawl I'd been seeing over the past few months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fortunately, I was sent to visit a lovely girl with a smile that just wouldn't end!  Her name was &lt;a href="http://chptrtwo.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Barefoot Dreamer&lt;/a&gt;. She had a bit of hippie in her &lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;(obvious with a name like that, don't you think?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;), and our first visit out was to see some of her friends.  These hippies were a bit different than the eco-hippies I met in Florida.  These were more of the patchouli scented, bocci ball playing type &lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;(hippies play bocci ball?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;.  I did get passed around a bit, and ultimately got worn by BFD and her friend &lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;(OK, I understand that I'm a big shirt, but does everyone have to try the two-in-one trick?).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TTUmkcULYRI/AAAAAAAAAvE/r-gph1BiJSA/s1600/May%2B2010%2B019.2.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TTUmkcULYRI/AAAAAAAAAvE/r-gph1BiJSA/s200/May%2B2010%2B019.2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563395322204086546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TTUoHoUyzzI/AAAAAAAAAvM/vYq8lGD7uaM/s1600/osshirt2.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TTUoHoUyzzI/AAAAAAAAAvM/vYq8lGD7uaM/s200/osshirt2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563397026234945330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A couple days later, she and I spent some time down at one of the 10,000+ lakes, enjoying the summer sun.Besides her winning smile, the girl has killer legs!  After a bit, we started wandering out into the water.  &lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 144px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TTUqaFGGp7I/AAAAAAAAAvU/zhaUHuPfIaI/s200/osshirt5.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563399542218860466" /&gt;One thing lead to another, and eventually, she tossed her top and I onto the beach, and I don't quite recall anything else beyond that point.  But I was happy!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, alas! All good things must come to an end.  I was lovingly packed up, and sent on to Colorado.  Little did I know what debauchery was to greet me next!&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/34089134-3413885779050694388?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/3413885779050694388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=3413885779050694388&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/3413885779050694388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/3413885779050694388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2011/01/off-to-north-star-state.html' title='Off to the North Star State!'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TTUdhbajRWI/AAAAAAAAAu8/cMOJYH_Qu9I/s72-c/May%2B2010%2B031.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-3250421970096590556</id><published>2011-01-09T00:01:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-09T19:13:35.441-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Friends and Old - Back to Dallas</title><content type='html'>After spending time in south Florida, I was en route to the Dallas area, and surprisingly, met even more new people! I thought I'd met everyone there.  Dallas must be a big town!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TSlk2pHi2dI/AAAAAAAAAt0/tC59nnQplWk/s1600/DSC_0020a.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TSlk2pHi2dI/AAAAAAAAAt0/tC59nnQplWk/s200/DSC_0020a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560086104878799314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TSll7tyJZfI/AAAAAAAAAuE/b0ixev-k144/s720/DSC_0006a.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TSll7tyJZfI/AAAAAAAAAuE/b0ixev-k144/s200/DSC_0006a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560087291542201842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I found myself in the hands of a nice girl by the name of &lt;a href="http://triplelll.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Triple L&lt;/a&gt;.  A lovely lady with LONG hair, cats, a fiancé, and she had no problems filling out my bluish goodness!  I got the impression that she and the big guy were familiar with each other for quite awhile.  I was going to ask why she didn't meet up with us when we were in Dallas together a couple of years early, but silly me, I have no mouth.  How could I ask her that??  Anyway, our time together was short, and she was eager to get some pictures taken, which I was happy to oblige.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TSlk263mFHI/AAAAAAAAAt8/8N3M-ux-rps/s1600/P5120012.JPG" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TSlk263mFHI/AAAAAAAAAt8/8N3M-ux-rps/s200/P5120012.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560086109643740274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TSll7zgGH6I/AAAAAAAAAuM/vXpvA3HDa-s/s1600/0512001538.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TSll7zgGH6I/AAAAAAAAAuM/vXpvA3HDa-s/s200/0512001538.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560087293077102498" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;What I didn't realize is that there was apparently some sort of a timeline involved, and promises made, and my time in Big D wasn't supposed to be too long.  I'm not sure how, but some of the others I met here previously heard I was in town and insisted on meeting up.  So Triple L ventured out to meet up with &lt;a href="http://www.shumpy.com/says.asp" target="_blank"&gt;Shumpy&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TSloEaMa9bI/AAAAAAAAAuU/CLWgIu6hTFs/s1600/Picture%2B6.png" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 195px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TSloEaMa9bI/AAAAAAAAAuU/CLWgIu6hTFs/s200/Picture%2B6.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560089639925773746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TSloNeZSvpI/AAAAAAAAAuc/WsJeFtmDI0M/s800/P5140006.JPG" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TSloNeZSvpI/AAAAAAAAAuc/WsJeFtmDI0M/s200/P5140006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560089795672325778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We all met up, had a couple of drinks, then I was off with Shumpy.  Since the last time I'd seen him, he'd become an internet radio host!  So we went to the studio, where he had an upcoming show.  He and I spent the show together, and even appeared on the webcam!  We went back to his place, where I met somebody new.  His girlfriend and I got to know each other a bit...  And now I hear they're engaged!  Congrats, guys!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TSlqV8fTp5I/AAAAAAAAAuk/-btHXdX80c4/s1600/IMG950393.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TSlqV8fTp5I/AAAAAAAAAuk/-btHXdX80c4/s200/IMG950393.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560092140212823954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TSlqe2DCPeI/AAAAAAAAAus/gmHYqju7IRk/s1600/OsShirt3.Click.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TSlqe2DCPeI/AAAAAAAAAus/gmHYqju7IRk/s200/OsShirt3.Click.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560092293102452194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm not sure how things happened next, but Shumpy got a call from &lt;a href="http://tastytidbits.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Q&lt;/a&gt; (formerly No One In Particular--what's up with the name changes??).  This is the same girl that kidnapped me years ago &lt;a href="http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2007/08/gunfight-in-texas.html" target="_blank"&gt;at gunpoint!&lt;/a&gt;  Shumpy didn't want a repeat of that situation, and since he knew that we'd met &lt;a href="http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2010/03/dont-mess-with-texas.html" target="_blank"&gt;one other time&lt;/a&gt; since that incident, he figured it was OK to pass me on to her, as long as I was sent off in the mail within hours.  As I said, there was some sort of timeline involved.  She was quite gracious, and happy to see me, and I, her.  But alas, we did have to cut it short to just one night.  Apparently I was to head north.  Not Kansas-type north, but northern Minnesota north!  Almost to the North Pole north!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-3250421970096590556?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/3250421970096590556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=3250421970096590556&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/3250421970096590556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/3250421970096590556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2011/01/new-friends-and-old-back-to-dallas.html' title='New Friends and Old - Back to Dallas'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TSlk2pHi2dI/AAAAAAAAAt0/tC59nnQplWk/s72-c/DSC_0020a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-9076276251628232599</id><published>2010-11-04T22:45:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-04T23:25:59.929-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Green Adventures of the OsShirt</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TNOJvyjKUZI/AAAAAAAAAtA/esejEOgjcZ4/s1600/5098354846_9da2701125_o.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TNOJvyjKUZI/AAAAAAAAAtA/esejEOgjcZ4/s320/5098354846_9da2701125_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535919821084578194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I arrived in Homestead fairly unscathed although, I have to say, it was HOT here.  &lt;a href="http://www.queeniesplace.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Queenie&lt;/a&gt; squealed like a kid when she opened me. What a greeting! The first thing she did was sniff me. I think it was to see how much trouble I caused before arriving to her. I think Queenie is a bit…weird. That became even more evident when she told me where she was taking me. Apparently, she thinks that my life needed some greening up and she thought it was her duty to teach me how to be more eco conscious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TNOLqD_XvyI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/Nzpw1fmS-tM/s1600/5097755953_2394959420_o.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TNOLqD_XvyI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/Nzpw1fmS-tM/s320/5097755953_2394959420_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535921921710341922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yep, we went to some hippy freak, earth loving festival.  (The Miami Going Green Festival to be exact) Her hub was given the privilege of wearing me and boy did we look awesome although, I didn’t think that we would fit in very well.  It was a beautiful day in Miami. Warm, sunny with a picture perfect balmy breeze blowing. Ahhh paradise.  As we arrived, I realized that this wasn’t going to be such a weird experience. These earth lovers know how to throw a party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TNOJwEwXFOI/AAAAAAAAAtI/sJ014vE9k3c/s1600/5098355176_30a47cd1bd_o.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TNOJwEwXFOI/AAAAAAAAAtI/sJ014vE9k3c/s320/5098355176_30a47cd1bd_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535919825971778786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I was educated about water conservation, recycling and composting. I heard about eco friendly home improvements. I met some fabulous people from the National Park Service who told me how important it was to be aware of my local eco systems and ways that I could enjoy them responsibly.  There was music being performed.  Earth friendly cleaning demos. I spoke to a couple of guys about wind power and another that wanted to help Queenie convert her new casa over to solar power. And ohhhh the food smelled delicious and most of it was vegetarian because as I was also taught, animal based diets are one of the leading causes of pollution in the world. I could eat vegetables all day if they all smelled like this. Yum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I even managed to find some of my relatives!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TNOMmyILDqI/AAAAAAAAAtY/vkgi6UfBxxo/s1600/5097756323_aec66c75c0_o.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TNOMmyILDqI/AAAAAAAAAtY/vkgi6UfBxxo/s320/5097756323_aec66c75c0_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535922964887441058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to see 100% electronic cars that had been built by local high school students. I also got to get up close and personal with a fully solar powered boat that could take it’s passengers from Miami all the way to Bimini without using one ounce of gas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TNOMnbn17UI/AAAAAAAAAtg/LSLjLagSabc/s1600/5097756499_62aaac70a4_o.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TNOMnbn17UI/AAAAAAAAAtg/LSLjLagSabc/s320/5097756499_62aaac70a4_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535922976026127682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently the owner of the boat didn’t like us getting so up close and personal with this magnificent boat. Who knew that we weren’t supposed to board that sucker and enjoy a little fun. It really was a shock that it had to come to this though:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TNOMnWrTEmI/AAAAAAAAAto/kkqw3U9OIUU/s1600/5097756685_8a4eecc567_o.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TNOMnWrTEmI/AAAAAAAAAto/kkqw3U9OIUU/s320/5097756685_8a4eecc567_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535922974698443362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Who said that eco warriors couldn’t have any fun?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;My time wasn't all spent getting hippie-fied.  I seem to remember some pics with Queenie herself.  Remember how I said I thought she was a bit...weird?  I'll just leave it at that.  Anyhoo, it was time to be packed off and sent on my way.  Next destination?  A whirlwind of a visit back to Dallas to meet a couple of new friends, and seeing a couple of old ones!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-9076276251628232599?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/9076276251628232599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=9076276251628232599&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/9076276251628232599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/9076276251628232599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2010/11/green-adventures-of-osshirt.html' title='The Green Adventures of the OsShirt'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TNOJvyjKUZI/AAAAAAAAAtA/esejEOgjcZ4/s72-c/5098354846_9da2701125_o.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-8812049232133663715</id><published>2010-09-15T11:58:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-04T23:36:09.668-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Cross Country With Chickie!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TI2-yhgq3uI/AAAAAAAAAsQ/BvPYPywxKqE/s1600/IMG_1404.JPG" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TI2-yhgq3uI/AAAAAAAAAsQ/BvPYPywxKqE/s240/IMG_1404.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516274893796859618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TI3AytmjWQI/AAAAAAAAAso/s2XOHWqVOSI/s1600/IMG_1457.JPG" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TI3AytmjWQI/AAAAAAAAAso/s2XOHWqVOSI/s240/IMG_1457.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516277096066013442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Shizzle &amp;amp; 13 got me all ready to head to Florida again, though my destination was a bit further south than I'd been previously.  I arrived at &lt;a href="http://www.skitteringthoughts.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Chickie's&lt;/a&gt;, only to almost immediately be packed away again for a trip to the west coast!  Talk about going across the country!  Chickie's husband Sweety actually wore me first.  Just to be sure I wasn't a weirdo or anything.  Personally, I think he wears me pretty well!  We stopped and played at Hoover Dam and the Grand Canyon (&lt;i&gt;it was like &lt;/i&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S44ZKfly7eI/AAAAAAAAAmA/fcbA3jYuxPU/s1600-h/DSCF1512.JPG" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;i&gt;déjà vu&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;i&gt; all over again!  but different&lt;/i&gt;).Of course, we spent time in Las Vegas, too.  Chickie and I stood in front of the fountain at the Bellagio for a good long time.  I could have spent all night there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TI2_faJJkjI/AAAAAAAAAsY/LUR-WuuM_B8/s1600/4500991773_82954d0584_o.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TI2_faJJkjI/AAAAAAAAAsY/LUR-WuuM_B8/s240/4500991773_82954d0584_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516275664913273394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TI3AyHKnNLI/AAAAAAAAAsg/0-MMUiPyrYo/s1600/4500921609_65cea12018_o.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TI3AyHKnNLI/AAAAAAAAAsg/0-MMUiPyrYo/s240/4500921609_65cea12018_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516277085748278450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Eventually, our destination was Los Angeles.  It was as warm, but less so than Florida (at least, from what I remember from the short time I was actually there this time).  Time spent with her friends, along with some drinking and puking and things.  Fortunately she didn't drag me along for any of that.  We did the sight-seeing thing too.  California is nice in that they make sure you know where you are at any given time, as evidenced by this picture!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TI8aCtb30YI/AAAAAAAAAs4/3tkMohpSIg8/s1600/IMG_1621.JPG" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TI8aCtb30YI/AAAAAAAAAs4/3tkMohpSIg8/s240/IMG_1621.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516656702410707330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TI8Zle_UC3I/AAAAAAAAAsw/mrISRNciktA/s1600/4440395243_063b612f92_o.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TI8Zle_UC3I/AAAAAAAAAsw/mrISRNciktA/s240/4440395243_063b612f92_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516656200316619634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We eventually made it back to Florida, where she and I got to spend a little time by the pool, then lounging together and saying our farewells.  This was a fun visit, and was just a hint of the fun that the rest of the summer was going to offer up!  I'm a little bit disappointed I didn't get to have my picture taken with Chi Chi 2.0, though...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next stop--southern Florida!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-8812049232133663715?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/8812049232133663715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=8812049232133663715&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/8812049232133663715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/8812049232133663715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2010/09/cross-country-with-chickie.html' title='Cross Country With Chickie!'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TI2-yhgq3uI/AAAAAAAAAsQ/BvPYPywxKqE/s72-c/IMG_1404.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-8301998711984150933</id><published>2010-09-07T20:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-07T20:40:36.984-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Shazam!  It's Shizzle!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TIXA5-XVZBI/AAAAAAAAAro/KY1QtpD-7OM/s400/DSC_0061.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 276px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TIXA5-XVZBI/AAAAAAAAAro/KY1QtpD-7OM/s320/DSC_0061.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514025421010986002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As mentioned in the last post, I had expected to be shipped out to someplace unknown, but &lt;a href="http://13messages.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;13 Messages&lt;/a&gt; and I got a surprise!  The lovely redhead &lt;a href="http://summer713.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Shizzle&lt;/a&gt; came by and wanted to have pictures taken with me!  This was the first time that she and 13 had really met (that ride in the elevator doesn't count), but the big guy had met her when he &lt;a href="http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2006/09/ominous-adventure.html" target="_blank"&gt;visited back in 2005&lt;/a&gt;, before my adventures had really started.  Knowing that 13 had a bit of a reputation as a good photographer, and that the big guy has had a huge crush on her since forever, the question of picture-taking was sort of moot.  Of &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;course&lt;/span&gt; it was going to happen!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TIXICF2G-vI/AAAAAAAAArw/aVMREFP8_1s/s400/DSC_0082.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TIXICF2G-vI/AAAAAAAAArw/aVMREFP8_1s/s320/DSC_0082.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514033257039461106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Right off the bat, you could tell this was going to be a much different picture taking session that I'd been used to up to this point.  Rather than wasting time, she started out with the half-nekkid look!  I thought it was nice that her undies matched her shoes, though I'm not sure how someone would normally have noticed that sort of thing.  She seemed at ease in front of the camera, and 13 took lots of pictures, just to be sure that he got the perfect pictures.  She was kind enough to turn over to give us a look at the other side of that first picture!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, all good things must come to an end, and so it did for the evening.  It was time for me to be sent off to sunny Florida.  Shizzle must have gotten confused or something, because she started taking everything off &lt;i&gt;except&lt;/i&gt; for me!  Ah, but I didn't mind.  The longer I could be with her, the better (little did I know that we'd meet again this summer!).  Finally, 13 got her to take me off, and he got me ready for my trip.  I hope she brought some other clothes with her!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TIXPP4J7EjI/AAAAAAAAAr4/1Ma0hqufiAA/s400/DSC_0096a.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TIXPP4J7EjI/AAAAAAAAAr4/1Ma0hqufiAA/s400/DSC_0096a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514041190464033330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-8301998711984150933?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/8301998711984150933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=8301998711984150933&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/8301998711984150933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/8301998711984150933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2010/09/shazam-its-shizzle.html' title='Shazam!  It&apos;s Shizzle!'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TIXA5-XVZBI/AAAAAAAAAro/KY1QtpD-7OM/s72-c/DSC_0061.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-5569421258306473902</id><published>2010-07-24T00:01:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-25T22:21:24.439-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to Music City</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TC7PAQz99RI/AAAAAAAAArI/0epXJfZJKdo/s1600/elvis.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TC7PAQz99RI/AAAAAAAAArI/0epXJfZJKdo/s200/elvis.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489552599231100178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TC7SUglB8uI/AAAAAAAAArY/w1_C1Mk96E8/s1600/Photo2.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TC7SUglB8uI/AAAAAAAAArY/w1_C1Mk96E8/s320/Photo2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489556245595681506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I've been on the shoulders of some famous people's likenesses on this little adventure over the years, including &lt;a href="http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2007/08/live-music-capital-of-world.html" target="_blank"&gt;Stevie Ray Vaughan&lt;/a&gt;, the &lt;a href="http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2007/08/live-music-capital-of-world.html" target="_blank"&gt;Statue of Liberty&lt;/a&gt;, and even a neon pink &lt;a href="http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2007/08/ye-of-little-faith.html" target="_blank"&gt;Jesus&lt;/a&gt;!  But my next stop found me on the shoulders of the King.  This could mean only one thing--I was back in Tennessee!  However, I wasn't with the ladies from my past.  This time it was with a very nice man with a weird name--&lt;a href="http://13messages.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;13Messages&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TC7PA9lQncI/AAAAAAAAArQ/EwEGL5TgF2M/s1600/shirt+015.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TC7PA9lQncI/AAAAAAAAArQ/EwEGL5TgF2M/s200/shirt+015.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489552611249003970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TC7SUwHJYCI/AAAAAAAAArg/O7HQvwQVXsg/s1600/shirt+028.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TC7SUwHJYCI/AAAAAAAAArg/O7HQvwQVXsg/s320/shirt+028.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489556249765306402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Undoubtably the thing I noticed right off the bat is that the internetz girls seem to like him.  Quite a bit.  And that he is wildly in love with his wife.  In fact, I think there were more pictures with her than with him!  He does love his camera!  We didn't really get out around town on this trip, but I know he and the big guy had a surprise for me that would more than make up for that!  We had some wine, we had some fun, but nothing prepared me for what was to come!  Yes, Tennessee seems to be a great state for fun, and I haven't been disappointed.  The year 2010 was shaping up to be a pretty good year.  And I hadn't even gotten the surprise yet!  Just when I figured I was about to be shipped off to an unknown location, we got a visitor...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-5569421258306473902?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/5569421258306473902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=5569421258306473902&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/5569421258306473902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/5569421258306473902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2010/07/back-to-music-city.html' title='Back to Music City'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TC7PAQz99RI/AAAAAAAAArI/0epXJfZJKdo/s72-c/elvis.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-5345636515656652405</id><published>2010-07-02T00:01:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-03T00:13:33.673-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Gettin' Sassy In the Land of Toques</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TC1-qw_xU9I/AAAAAAAAAqc/FPu-ZHmfZQQ/s1600/IMG_0710a.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TC1-qw_xU9I/AAAAAAAAAqc/FPu-ZHmfZQQ/s320/IMG_0710a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489182794006483922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;One more trip along the southern shores of Canada was in store, as I was headed to the Toronto area.  I shortly found myself cuddled within the ample bosom of the girl they call &lt;a href="http://lisastirades.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Sassy&lt;/a&gt;!  I was a little nervous about this visit, as word had it that she was a bit of a wild woman, and that her name fit her perfectly.  I soon realized that I had nothing to worry about.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TC2AHp8NHMI/AAAAAAAAAqs/xQ_99-h_RKQ/s1600/IMG_0734COPYa.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 230px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TC2AHp8NHMI/AAAAAAAAAqs/xQ_99-h_RKQ/s320/IMG_0734COPYa.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489184389840313538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Motherhood has mellowed Sassy to some degree.  Not that she's a spinster or anything like that!  But after being around kids all day (she's a teacher), and then coming home to a handsome young man that has stolen her heart...well, she's not dancing on the tables quite like she used to.  At least in public.  Her household is an interesting mix of family stuff with a dash of naughtiness.  She and Mr. Sassy leave naughty or crude love notes to each other with the refrigerator letter magnets.   It's cute!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TC2AmxwdGdI/AAAAAAAAAq0/Hqjtp1rHlbY/s1600/IMG_0770a.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 318px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TC2AmxwdGdI/AAAAAAAAAq0/Hqjtp1rHlbY/s320/IMG_0770a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489184924514458066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hopefully, I figured I might get into a couple of pictures with her boy, as it seems she takes pictures of him daily (and how can you blame her?  he's cute as a bug!).  So imagine my surprise when one night, as she was wearing me while working on school papers, she got "comfortable", grabbed a Moosehead, and started working on her blog.  Half-nekkid, even!  The old Sassy was back!  The boy was in bed, Mr. Sassy was watching TV (hockey, probably), so it was just her and me!  Ample pictures were taken...many of which would not be appropriate here!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TC2E3kig7aI/AAAAAAAAAq8/dZR1jazXMlc/s320/IMG_0797a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489189611070614946" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As it got later, she just left her bra with her blog, and she and I retreated to...well, I'd better not say.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And so ended my adventures in 2009.  Soon I found myself back in the town where this all started, but with a vastly different group of people.  I could tell that 2010 was going to be a good year!&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/34089134-5345636515656652405?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/5345636515656652405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=5345636515656652405&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/5345636515656652405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/5345636515656652405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2010/07/one-more-trip-along-southern-shores-of.html' title='Gettin&apos; Sassy In the Land of Toques'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/TC1-qw_xU9I/AAAAAAAAAqc/FPu-ZHmfZQQ/s72-c/IMG_0710a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-9174319269015319991</id><published>2010-06-03T13:39:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-03T13:48:52.491-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Visiting the Canadian South</title><content type='html'>My next stop in my mini-Canadian tour sent me to the most southern region of Canada.  Really...who knew that parts of Canada were further south than any of the states in the Pacific Northwest?  Anyway, I got to stay for a good while with one of the big guy's oldest blogger buddies, Binsk.  She regaled me with stories from the days when you could see all sorts of cute half-nekkid pics of her on the internet, and the other Canadians she got to party with on occasion.  It was obvious why the big guy likes her.  In spite of spending some quality time with Binsk, we didn't get any photographic proof of that.  But that's OK...I've still got the memories!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next stop--off to meet the Sassy one!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-9174319269015319991?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/9174319269015319991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=9174319269015319991&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/9174319269015319991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/9174319269015319991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2010/06/visiting-canadian-south.html' title='Visiting the Canadian South'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-1137399821102156473</id><published>2010-05-25T23:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-05-25T23:25:29.042-06:00</updated><title type='text'>O, Canada!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S_yuV6HGJBI/AAAAAAAAAqM/4NZmvQSlQaQ/s1600/022.JPG"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S_yuV6HGJBI/AAAAAAAAAqM/4NZmvQSlQaQ/s320/022.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475442938375185426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;From the boondocks, I was sent away on my very first international trip!  Sure, it was just to Canada, but I snuck in without a passport, so it was at least a &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;little&lt;/span&gt; exciting, eh!  And while I was technically in the Great White North, I found on later inspection that I was actually far further south than Montana!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S_yuiHuo7LI/AAAAAAAAAqU/v_AQNl0p4mg/s1600/024.JPG"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S_yuiHuo7LI/AAAAAAAAAqU/v_AQNl0p4mg/s320/024.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475443148189134002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Anyway, I got to meet the fun lovin' girl known as &lt;a href="http://cutebutevilgirl.blogspot.com/"target=_blank&gt;Cute but Evil&lt;/a&gt; (also known as CbE).  Oh, my!  Two more perfect words couldn't describe her better!  Not evil in a world domination way, but evil like you should check for some devil horns every once in awhile!  She's got legs that go from here to Edmonton, but it's the lips--oh, the lips!--that caught my attention.  And I don't even &lt;i&gt;have&lt;/i&gt; lips.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We didn't really get out of the house at all, but that was okay.  There was no real need to.  Besides, it was cold!  And there I was, a nice tropical shirt, with nary a toque to my name!  Alas, after awhile, it was time to be sent on.  Since I was north of the border, my next couple of stops would stay up there too.  Hopefully some Molson would be waiting for me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-1137399821102156473?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/1137399821102156473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=1137399821102156473&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/1137399821102156473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/1137399821102156473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2010/05/o-canada.html' title='O, Canada!'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S_yuV6HGJBI/AAAAAAAAAqM/4NZmvQSlQaQ/s72-c/022.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-7544958966526167433</id><published>2010-05-22T16:21:00.011-06:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T17:13:08.984-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Down in the Boondocks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S_hfop1E1JI/AAAAAAAAAps/idWeStig5B4/s1600/DSC03379.JPG" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S_hfop1E1JI/AAAAAAAAAps/idWeStig5B4/s200/DSC03379.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474230499096712338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As mentioned earlier, I'm baaaaccckkk!  My third incarnation appeared suddenly in Indianapolis, of all places!  The big guy was in town to catch the Elton John/Billy Joel concert with a lovely lady known as &lt;a href="http://rumblingsandbumblings.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;M&lt;/a&gt;.  And for whatever reason, I showed up!  Looking a bit different than before, but with bolder sense of style, if I do say so myself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S_hgzISn7jI/AAAAAAAAAp0/9lyRFI6JIVw/s1600/DSC03903.JPG" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S_hgzISn7jI/AAAAAAAAAp0/9lyRFI6JIVw/s200/DSC03903.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474231778584030770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn't actually get to go to the concert, nor the great times they had with &lt;a href="http://mph-nydiva.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;NY Diva&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://alivingdiary.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Living Diary&lt;/a&gt;, and even M's sister! And the cute little waitress at a place called Hooters!  I got the impression that he'd met them before, but I'm not sure why I didn't get to meet them.  I might have to see if that can change somewhere in the future...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S_hfoAMMnLI/AAAAAAAAApk/qjejJUKIk2g/s1600/DSC03418a.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S_hfoAMMnLI/AAAAAAAAApk/qjejJUKIk2g/s200/DSC03418a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474230487919402162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S_hi1cJuAUI/AAAAAAAAAqE/HdWqrh8nugw/s1600/DSC03406a.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 138px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S_hi1cJuAUI/AAAAAAAAAqE/HdWqrh8nugw/s200/DSC03406a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474234017298383170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Anyway, I got to spend some quality time with M in Indy.  I think she and the big guy were a bit hungover as she took them to the airport in the pre-dawn hours of the morning, but as a wonderful surprise, instead of flying back with him (and presumably ending my travel adventures), she ended up taking me home to the boondocks!  I'm not sure if that was planned or not, but I'm glad I got to go!  Really, an interesting place, the boondocks.  &lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S_hhGDC3geI/AAAAAAAAAp8/ejOoMTl6fg4/s200/noname.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474232103593279970" /&gt;She and I snuck out one afternoon and ended up by the bluffs down by the river for one last chance to be together. Then I knew it was time to go.  Through my prior incarnations, you can just tell.  M and I said our final goodbyes, and she got me ready to go.  I knew I was headed back north, but as I later found out, it wasn't back to the big guy.  I was off to the land of toques and beavers!&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/34089134-7544958966526167433?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/7544958966526167433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=7544958966526167433&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/7544958966526167433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/7544958966526167433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2010/05/down-in-boondocks.html' title='Down in the Boondocks'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S_hfop1E1JI/AAAAAAAAAps/idWeStig5B4/s72-c/DSC03379.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-1524226827688810087</id><published>2010-05-10T19:21:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T20:08:19.377-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Déjà Vu All Over Again</title><content type='html'>OK, I'm not sure why I've been blessed in the manner I have.  A few years ago, I was lost by the U.S. Postal Service.  No one seems to know where.  Not even myself.  I thought it was the end of the story.  Then surprise!  I rose from the ashes and showed up at the big guy's 50th birthday party in Dallas!  Looking markedly different, but back in action!  Being passed around from town to town&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it's apparently happened again.  After the brief but enjoyable time with Jinsane, I was delivered to another location in Looeyville.  And pictures were taken.  But then real life apparently raised its ugly head and things got wonky.  And the next thing I know, we're all packed up and moved to Florida!  And then the next thing you know, they've moved back to Kentucky!  And where did I end up?  I'm still in a box in storage in Florida.  Out of the sunshine, which for a northern shirt is a good thing, but damn, it sure gets hot in here! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in limbo.  Never sure when I might get rescued.  IF I'll ever get rescued.  But the most amazing thing happened!  The big guy must have gotten wind of things and pulled some strings, because I'm baaaaccckkk!  Again, looking a bit different than before, but still making the rounds!  Look here in the days to come to find out who I've been spending my time with!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-1524226827688810087?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/1524226827688810087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=1524226827688810087&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/1524226827688810087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/1524226827688810087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2010/05/deja-vu-all-over-again.html' title='Déjà Vu All Over Again'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-2337042391352771943</id><published>2010-04-05T21:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T21:49:22.488-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Looeyville</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S7bOTtNO5XI/AAAAAAAAApU/xiP1LVDTWI8/s1600/HNT.os.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 256px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S7bOTtNO5XI/AAAAAAAAApU/xiP1LVDTWI8/s400/HNT.os.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455774836553868658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I mentioned at the end of my last adventure that I was sent back out once we returned to Texas.  Truth be told, I'm not totally sure that I made it back there.  But no matter.  I was off to the land of mint juleps, horse racing and baseball bats.  Louisville, Kentucky!  Good thing the big guy wasn't here, as he has a distinctly northern way of pronouncing "Louisville" that would have gotten him laughed out of the city.  To pronounce it correctly, one has to almost swallow their tongue.  However, since I have no tongue, I was off the hook!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S7bVSaYSEDI/AAAAAAAAApc/n0Kgr0p26oM/s1600/HNT.os2.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S7bVSaYSEDI/AAAAAAAAApc/n0Kgr0p26oM/s400/HNT.os2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455782510901465138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It was here that I was delivered to a delightful redheaded beauty known as &lt;a href="http://mindblowinginsanity.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Jinsane&lt;/a&gt;!  The first thing I noticed about her was that her eyes were the most amazing color and were a perfect match with me!  And then her tattoos.  All of which can be seen in her HNTs that she's graciously grouped together in her sidebar!  This is a girl who could probably drink the big guy under the table with little problem.  She's completely at home around beer, friends and a pool table. Probably with motorcycles, too!  But she's got a wonderful "girlie" side to her, too!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She was little on the sick side when I visited, so we didn't get out much for pictures, and her flash went out on her when I arrived.  But we did the best we could (which seems to be pretty fine).  I was particularly fond of her use of the mirror!  It was a short and sweet visit with her, and to my surprise, a very quick delivery to my next destination!  I'd find myself just on the other side of town!  But all good things must come to an end.  A bizarre twist to my travels, yet, sorta like déjà vu all over again.  But that's a story that will have to wait until next time...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-2337042391352771943?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/2337042391352771943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=2337042391352771943&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/2337042391352771943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/2337042391352771943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2010/04/looeyville.html' title='Looeyville'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S7bOTtNO5XI/AAAAAAAAApU/xiP1LVDTWI8/s72-c/HNT.os.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-947761978624676133</id><published>2010-03-30T23:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-30T23:40:14.870-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Mess With Texas</title><content type='html'>My next journey sent me back to Texas.  Just can't seem to get away from there.  But that's OK.  There's some great friends I've made there!  And this time, it was back to see &lt;a href="http://tastytidbits.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;No One In Particular&lt;/a&gt; again!  She had done so much work on the big guy's birthday party the last time I saw her, it's the least I could do to come back.  Especially with my new look!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent some quality time together.  She even gave me a new patch to wear!  &lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;(Be sure to click 'em to big 'em!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;  But then something unexpected happened...  I found myself being stuffed into a suitcase with a bunch of her clothes and underthings!  Didn't mind the underthings that much, but I was confused.  Apparently, I was going to take a sidetrip while on my trip!  But this looked like some serious travel about to happen.  At least she had a change of heart, and took me out of the suitcase and stuffed me into her pink carry-on bag.  I might clash with that color, but I'm secure in my sexual identity to not be afraid of being seen in a pink bag (sexual identity???  WTH?  I'm a shirt!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S7LOvmpw4JI/AAAAAAAAApE/v5nfRRtbvOA/s1600/DontMessOsShirt.close.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 144px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S7LOvmpw4JI/AAAAAAAAApE/v5nfRRtbvOA/s200/DontMessOsShirt.close.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454649415923982482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S7LOvU7FNMI/AAAAAAAAAo8/X46poXgXKPg/s1600/CaseMe.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S7LOvU7FNMI/AAAAAAAAAo8/X46poXgXKPg/s200/CaseMe.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454649411164779714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S7LOuy25b2I/AAAAAAAAAo0/8Jx6cqaU_WM/s1600/OsShirtGirly.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S7LOuy25b2I/AAAAAAAAAo0/8Jx6cqaU_WM/s200/OsShirtGirly.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454649402020425570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next thing I know, I've got a window seat on a big plane at the Dallas/Fort Worth airport.  Like a good shirt, I read along with the flight attendants as they told us all about the safety features and procedures.  Good information to know!  Once we got in the air, NOIP and I spent the flight reading about more fun endeavors.  The section on hula dancing was near and dear to me, as it brought back memories of my past life...  *sigh...*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S7LOecTDK0I/AAAAAAAAAos/YiXLI8oJYZQ/s1600/OsShirtWindow.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 174px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S7LOecTDK0I/AAAAAAAAAos/YiXLI8oJYZQ/s200/OsShirtWindow.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454649121086581570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S7LOeATXy_I/AAAAAAAAAok/H98cIf0QOi4/s1600/OsShirtSafety.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S7LOeATXy_I/AAAAAAAAAok/H98cIf0QOi4/s200/OsShirtSafety.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454649113571740658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S7LOdkGXp8I/AAAAAAAAAoc/V-b0gxv6lDY/s1600/OsShirtHula.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S7LOdkGXp8I/AAAAAAAAAoc/V-b0gxv6lDY/s200/OsShirtHula.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454649106001012674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the trip is sort of secret, so I can't tell you where we went, but suffice it to say that we partied together like rock stars!  That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it!  Upon our return to TX, I was promptly bundled up and sent away for the next leg of my adventure.  Off to a place where you almost have to swallow your tongue to say the name of the town correctly...  More on that the next time!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-947761978624676133?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/947761978624676133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=947761978624676133&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/947761978624676133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/947761978624676133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2010/03/dont-mess-with-texas.html' title='Don&apos;t Mess With Texas'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S7LOvmpw4JI/AAAAAAAAApE/v5nfRRtbvOA/s72-c/DontMessOsShirt.close.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-5820635838870430753</id><published>2010-03-22T12:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-22T14:06:05.007-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Back for a Farewell Party!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S6Wqr1YJkBI/AAAAAAAAAnk/eTkUjuWhEkc/s1600-h/100_5270.JPG" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S6Wqr1YJkBI/AAAAAAAAAnk/eTkUjuWhEkc/s320/100_5270.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450950594041319442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I was sent away from Florida with all necessary repairs made, and found myself headed back to the &lt;a href="http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2006/09/new-years-eve-eve-party.html" target="_blank"&gt;same&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2006/09/abduction-is-on-or-is-it.html" target="_blank"&gt;girls&lt;/a&gt; that started this whole adventure back at the end of 2005. Though we were all a bit different than we were when we first met.  It was a farewell party for one of the girls who was headed overseas for awhile.  Most of that old gang was there, and it was good to see some recognizable faces.  The farewell girl even celebrated, and allowed me to join her for a new belly button piercing!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S6WqbaN-ytI/AAAAAAAAAnc/MvRHwswI5NU/s1600-h/OsShirt+2.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S6WqbaN-ytI/AAAAAAAAAnc/MvRHwswI5NU/s200/OsShirt+2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450950311873006290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Unfortunately, I don't recall much of my time with them, and there just weren't many pictures taken there.  I do seem to recall that I was only there for a short time, and then sent away to a new destination.  And back to another old friend.  Was this the beginning of a loop?  Would I not get to meet anyone else new?  Only time would tell.  In the meantime, I said farewell too, and it was off to Texas!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-5820635838870430753?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/5820635838870430753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=5820635838870430753&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/5820635838870430753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/5820635838870430753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2010/03/back-for-farewell-party.html' title='Back for a Farewell Party!'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S6Wqr1YJkBI/AAAAAAAAAnk/eTkUjuWhEkc/s72-c/100_5270.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-9026091122364669938</id><published>2010-03-16T00:01:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-16T09:43:57.773-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Time for a Pit Stop</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S5ybQX50yII/AAAAAAAAAnU/s1hDfiV5xX4/s1600-h/001.JPG"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 237px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S5ybQX50yII/AAAAAAAAAnU/s1hDfiV5xX4/s320/001.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448400354808219778"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S5ybClRKh9I/AAAAAAAAAnE/lkBasynNPkM/s1600-h/003.JPG"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S5ybClRKh9I/AAAAAAAAAnE/lkBasynNPkM/s200/003.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448400117877606354"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The next stop in my adventure took me back to another friend I had made earlier, back in my prior form.  The woman's name was Phain, and you can see my earlier fun with her &lt;a href="http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2009/02/wow.html" target="_blank"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.  For whatever reason, I didn't leave her name the last time.  But it's her!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S5ybDe-Z34I/AAAAAAAAAnM/V2uB214cNDA/s320/002.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448400133368176514"&gt;This time around was just as fun!  We got some sun together (as you can see by her back).  And even though I'm not posting the pics, the kids and I had a lot of fun too!  But Phain, being the motherly type, also took some time out to make some much needed repairs to me.  Some of my button holes had gotten ripped due to some rambunctiousness and overly eager participation!  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After spending time here, and getting all spiffy again, I was shipped off to the women who sort of started this whole thing.  I was just a tad nervous...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-9026091122364669938?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/9026091122364669938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=9026091122364669938&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/9026091122364669938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/9026091122364669938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2010/03/time-for-pit-stop.html' title='Time for a Pit Stop'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S5ybQX50yII/AAAAAAAAAnU/s1hDfiV5xX4/s72-c/001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-8916974590081741483</id><published>2010-03-09T00:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T21:45:22.218-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where Everyone Knows Your Name</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S5YPTdgtBhI/AAAAAAAAAm0/USaMhyvAzGU/s800-h/501967686_a366658b1b.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S5YPTdgtBhI/AAAAAAAAAm0/USaMhyvAzGU/s320/501967686_a366658b1b.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446557626364921362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S5YPYtmz2_I/AAAAAAAAAm8/zbhOp9NQwXE/s800-h/502007121_408f7f4329.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S5YPYtmz2_I/AAAAAAAAAm8/zbhOp9NQwXE/s320/502007121_408f7f4329.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446557716584848370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I left the sunny (and very warm) days in the southwest and ended up way over on the east coast.  The north-east coast, to be more correct. OK, Boston, if you're going to force me to say it. There, I found myself in the company of the very lovely, and very leggy, &lt;a href="http://lamonalicious.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Monalicious&lt;/a&gt;! There do seem to be an awful lot of long legged ladies out there!  Anyway, &lt;i&gt;this&lt;/i&gt; particular LLL was not only a looker, but she has smarts, too!  While I didn't get to meet any of her friends (which was fine with me), I got the impression that she could make them wherever she went.  I spent about a week here, but didn't get to see many of the sights.  Just as well.  I was getting plenty of sights right here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The last I heard, she up and moved to the South, and got herself hitched.  I don't know if our paths will cross any time soon, but here's to hoping!  Continuing on, she sent me back on down the coast to see an old friend...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-8916974590081741483?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/8916974590081741483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=8916974590081741483&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/8916974590081741483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/8916974590081741483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2010/03/where-everyone-knows-your-name.html' title='Where Everyone Knows Your Name'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S5YPTdgtBhI/AAAAAAAAAm0/USaMhyvAzGU/s72-c/501967686_a366658b1b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-5187419224628326065</id><published>2010-03-03T00:01:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T01:21:32.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If Something Would Have Happened in Vegas, I Would Have Stayed in Vegas!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S4y-O_OU04I/AAAAAAAAAlo/kl2MTHrLkaA/s1600-h/DSCF1390a.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S4y-O_OU04I/AAAAAAAAAlo/kl2MTHrLkaA/s320/DSCF1390a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443935214283051906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S4y-sFdCyGI/AAAAAAAAAlw/H4kwrMra8FI/s1600-h/CodyOsShirt.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S4y-sFdCyGI/AAAAAAAAAlw/H4kwrMra8FI/s320/CodyOsShirt.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443935714171603042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Two of the people I met in Dallas (they actually flew there to help celebrate his birthday??) were my next hosts.  Tara Tainton was her name, and her lover/roomie is Code.  She's a tough cookie to try to figure out.  When she and the big guy first met, she seemed fairly shy.  But she also greeted him wearing a bath towel, having just stepped out of the shower.  As the party weekend continued, that shyness seemed to disappear.  What I didn't realize at the time is that she was also a budding porn star!  She specialized in homemade porn...not the really fake, tacky stuff.  Being rather shy myself, I was terrified that I was going to find myself in one of her videos!  Would I look good on camera?  Would I get stained by something unmentionable?  Would I have to wear a dry-cleaning bag?  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S44Zxbk9x9I/AAAAAAAAAmI/LTC5sF9o6hE/s1600-h/MomOsShirt.JPG" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S44Zxbk9x9I/AAAAAAAAAmI/LTC5sF9o6hE/s320/MomOsShirt.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444317336544593874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S44ZKfly7eI/AAAAAAAAAmA/fcbA3jYuxPU/s1600-h/DSCF1512.JPG" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S44ZKfly7eI/AAAAAAAAAmA/fcbA3jYuxPU/s200/DSCF1512.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444316667606920674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Fortunately, she had nothing like that planned for me.  Just a few somewhat naughty pictures.  :-)  And Code got into the action too!  Later on, before she sent me on my way, the two of them were joined by her mother, who couldn't resist meeting me either!  We took a quick trip over (up?) to the Grand Canyon &lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;(click the pic!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;.  I think we look pretty good together up there, don't you?  Soon, we parted ways, and I next found myself somewhere where everyone knows your name...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A word of warning...if you go to &lt;a href="http://www.taratainton.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Tara's&lt;/a&gt; site, it's what the kids would call "&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;NSFW&lt;/span&gt;"!&lt;br /&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/34089134-5187419224628326065?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/5187419224628326065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=5187419224628326065&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/5187419224628326065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/5187419224628326065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2010/03/two-of-people-i-met-in-dallas-they.html' title='If Something Would Have Happened in Vegas, I Would Have Stayed in Vegas!'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S4y-O_OU04I/AAAAAAAAAlo/kl2MTHrLkaA/s72-c/DSCF1390a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-4860933419877701634</id><published>2010-03-01T00:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T02:26:02.942-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Changes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S4tc8Fj_JYI/AAAAAAAAAlA/muIkqXXHoXk/s1600-h/DSC00083.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S4tc8Fj_JYI/AAAAAAAAAlA/muIkqXXHoXk/s320/DSC00083.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443546761962399106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S4tdEdpm1bI/AAAAAAAAAlI/_-FLQmpt3Lw/s1600-h/michael%2B088.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S4tdEdpm1bI/AAAAAAAAAlI/_-FLQmpt3Lw/s320/michael%2B088.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443546905867376050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm not the only one who has had some changes.  I went home after the party (well, the whole weekend) with the lovely &lt;a href="http://stealthbombshell.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Stealth&lt;/a&gt;.  Who used to be &lt;a href="http://texasspitfire.blogspot.com/" arget="_blank"&gt;Texas Spitfire&lt;/a&gt;.  She did something to her knee at the party, but it wasn't anything a bottle of tequila couldn't fix! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand that she's been away for awhile, but has snuck back into the blogging life, so you should check her out when you can!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for me, I shortly found myself on my way to Las Vegas!  Woohoo!  You know what they say about Vegas... (but I'll be sure to share a little bit with you!).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-4860933419877701634?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/4860933419877701634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=4860933419877701634&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/4860933419877701634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/4860933419877701634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2010/02/im-not-only-one-who-has-had-some.html' title='Changes'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S4tc8Fj_JYI/AAAAAAAAAlA/muIkqXXHoXk/s72-c/DSC00083.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-1017257807746534766</id><published>2010-02-28T00:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T13:16:47.023-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Beginnings</title><content type='html'>Wow!  It's been a year?  Wish I could say it's because I've been having all sorts of fun, and to some degree I have, but I feel like I've changed.  In fact, I know I have.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S4tR8amE9EI/AAAAAAAAAk4/87jys69W_Z8/s1600-h/472465464_32c26ba6c5_o.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 234px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S4tR8amE9EI/AAAAAAAAAk4/87jys69W_Z8/s400/472465464_32c26ba6c5_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443534672980407362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After my &lt;a href="http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2009/02/strange-disappearance.html" target="_blank"&gt;strange disappearance&lt;/a&gt;, the next thing I know, I'm in Dallas again!  And the big guy is there.  And one or two others that I'd already met.  It felt like a dream.  But no, they were all really there!  Apparently the big guy turned into the old guy, as he was celebrating his 50th birthday here at &lt;a href="http://www.shumpy.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Shumpy's&lt;/a&gt;!  Turns out I'd been reincarnated or something, as there was a real difference in my appearance.  Not to question the greater plans of a higher being, I just accepted the fact that I'd changed, and looked forward to more adventures!  Somehow, five months had just disappeared, but who am I to question such things?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My biggest question at this point...where would I be going next?  And with whom???&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-1017257807746534766?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/1017257807746534766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=1017257807746534766&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/1017257807746534766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/1017257807746534766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2010/02/new-beginnings.html' title='New Beginnings'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/S4tR8amE9EI/AAAAAAAAAk4/87jys69W_Z8/s72-c/472465464_32c26ba6c5_o.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-6358318442734272776</id><published>2009-02-19T00:01:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T19:48:23.938-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Strange Disappearance</title><content type='html'>Thanksgiving 2006.  This is where things turned my world upside down.  The plan was an emergency detour to New York City, the Big Apple, the greatest city in the world (or so I've heard).  I was set to see the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, with extra stops to the Empire State Building, Radio City Music Hall, the Statue of Liberty, and, well, pretty much everything that could possibly be squeezed into five days.  The lovely Lee Ann packed me up, took me to the post office, and sent me on my way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happened next is speculation.  I never arrived at my destination.  That much is certain.  I might have ended up behind a file cabinet in a NYC post office.  I could be at the bottom of a pile of undelivered mail.  Perhaps a kid is wearing me like a cape somewhere in Harlem.  Whatever my fate, I know that the big guy and I likely will never be reunited.  But it was nice that the last person I spent time with was Lee Ann.  Things could have been worse!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZy7nJZpClI/AAAAAAAAAOI/9X6eJ3dEY8U/s1600-h/IMG_2462.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 198px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZy7nJZpClI/AAAAAAAAAOI/9X6eJ3dEY8U/s400/IMG_2462.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304320742348360274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So while I've been in limbo, there's been plenty of sightings of me, which of course, is impossible.  But it appears that there are some who would try to fool the public into thinking that I'd resurfaced.  Or possible been reassigned to something other than a large shirt...  First case in point, this mystery woman (whom I actually met in one of my journeys!) tried to pass off this shower curtain as me.  A close likeness, but not quite.  Though I wouldn't mind the gig!  &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;(Be sure to click 'em to big 'em!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZxnOgYulOI/AAAAAAAAANg/w49FbSCFbAI/s1600-h/OsShirtJap.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZxnOgYulOI/AAAAAAAAANg/w49FbSCFbAI/s200/OsShirtJap.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304227960045081826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Then there were the many who tried to pass off their shirts as me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZxl8V54aPI/AAAAAAAAANY/pA6_B6SNcag/s1600-h/OsShirtAtNeal8.08.b.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZxl8V54aPI/AAAAAAAAANY/pA6_B6SNcag/s200/OsShirtAtNeal8.08.b.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304226548482074866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZxl614uGJI/AAAAAAAAAM4/kwAgrKvDsAo/s1600-h/07-21-08_1427.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZxl614uGJI/AAAAAAAAAM4/kwAgrKvDsAo/s200/07-21-08_1427.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304226522707400850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Even Joe Cool got in on the action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZxl8CQDXWI/AAAAAAAAANQ/zY627JAFRTM/s1600-h/noname" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZxl8CQDXWI/AAAAAAAAANQ/zY627JAFRTM/s400/noname" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304226543206358370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZxl8CQDXWI/AAAAAAAAANQ/zY627JAFRTM/s1600-h/noname" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;As did this Joe Cool wannabe...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZxl7jL2rjI/AAAAAAAAANI/D4NhOuVgkac/s400/Doggystyle.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304226534867250738" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Someone even tried to disguise me as a coffee mug&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;(and not the first time that &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;THAT&lt;/span&gt; has happened!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZxl7SvZzPI/AAAAAAAAANA/nik06oiv9cM/s400/coffee-mug.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304226530452950258" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Thing really got weird when someone spotted this.  When I first saw it, I thought the big guy had finally put up posters to tell the good people of NYC that I was lost.  But then I got a closer look!  It's as close to a perfect likeness of me as you can get (wrong size), but someone was trying to sell "me" on eBay!!!  Of course, by the time the big guy found out about it, bidding had closed, so he didn't find out who the perpetrator might have been.  But only $19.99??  One can't help but wonder if they knew anything of my disappearance...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZxnO8gv3XI/AAAAAAAAANo/k_9vatF_Pqs/s1600-h/Picture+1.png" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZxnO8gv3XI/AAAAAAAAANo/k_9vatF_Pqs/s400/Picture+1.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304227967594913138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZxnPbJio8I/AAAAAAAAAN4/WBkeEh-KLeo/s1600-h/Picture+5.png" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZxnPbJio8I/AAAAAAAAAN4/WBkeEh-KLeo/s320/Picture+5.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304227975819076546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZxnPMadxRI/AAAAAAAAANw/UJFAmyLTPws/s1600-h/Picture+4.png" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width:" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZxnPMadxRI/AAAAAAAAANw/UJFAmyLTPws/s320/Picture+4.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304227971863528722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There have been some other reported "sightings" of me around, and more will be detailed later.  But it does appear that my existence remains in limbo.  And when one is in limbo, one can contemplate deep subjects.  Things like reincarnation.  Could I come back in a different form?  Not as a coffee cup or a shower curtain, but as a shirt again?  Perhaps this is the stuff of future stories....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-6358318442734272776?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/6358318442734272776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=6358318442734272776&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/6358318442734272776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/6358318442734272776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2009/02/strange-disappearance.html' title='A Strange Disappearance'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZy7nJZpClI/AAAAAAAAAOI/9X6eJ3dEY8U/s72-c/IMG_2462.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-8595953795094181487</id><published>2009-02-16T19:01:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T20:27:56.784-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Party at the Castle</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZolao92pCI/AAAAAAAAAMo/3-hzQ7VnOuY/s1600-h/Lee+Ann+023.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 0px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZolao92pCI/AAAAAAAAAMo/3-hzQ7VnOuY/s320/Lee+Ann+023.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303592650785858594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 0px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZol2AF2HTI/AAAAAAAAAMw/qTy265QwRng/s200/Lee+Ann+026.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303593120849861938" /&gt;My next trip found me staying in the Southeast, landing me at the Castle of Nannbugg, with the very lovely &lt;a href="http://lahilton.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Lee Ann&lt;/a&gt; showing me around the place.  She showed me the flowers that mystery men send her, and the fun stuffed animals.  I even got to spend a little time with one of them!  We frolicked, we played, we checked out every room in the Castle.  Life was good.  I could have happily stayed there for a long time, and as it turns out, it was bittersweet.  After one last night together, she packed me up for a Thanksgiving date in NYC to see the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.  A date that never happened...  More on that story to come...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-8595953795094181487?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/8595953795094181487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=8595953795094181487&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/8595953795094181487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/8595953795094181487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2009/02/party-at-castle.html' title='Party at the Castle'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZolao92pCI/AAAAAAAAAMo/3-hzQ7VnOuY/s72-c/Lee+Ann+023.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-8544080320262052529</id><published>2009-02-16T19:00:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T20:22:01.222-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Home of the Gators!</title><content type='html'>Wow.  It's been almost a year and a half since I've been around!  There's a good reason--I was rudely lost, reincarnated, and on vacation!  Well, it's time to let you know what's been going on.  But first, I need to catch you up on what happened before I was lost forever...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZocQOOPa0I/AAAAAAAAAMY/DXleBuYCwsg/s1600-h/001.JPG" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 157px; height: 235px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZocQOOPa0I/AAAAAAAAAMY/DXleBuYCwsg/s400/001.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303582576203492162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZofze-PwII/AAAAAAAAAMg/khoi7K4xOyk/s400/heels6.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303586480530112642" /&gt;After spending quality time in Texas, it was time to leave for the warmer climes of the State of Florida.   &lt;div&gt;There I was hosted by a wonderful lady and her two children.  While I stayed away from the children, for the most part, she and I spent a great deal of time together.  The girl's got gams!  And some kick-ass shoes (though I think we did something to break the strap on one of them...oops...).&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of the dangers of staying away this long is that some of these links are dead.  As is the case with this one.  :-(  But she remains a fond memory for me!  Maybe we'll meet again in the future!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My time in Florida was short-lived.  Next thing I know, I'm off to another kingdom!&lt;br /&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/34089134-8544080320262052529?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/8544080320262052529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=8544080320262052529&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/8544080320262052529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/8544080320262052529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2009/02/wow.html' title='Home of the Gators!'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/SZocQOOPa0I/AAAAAAAAAMY/DXleBuYCwsg/s72-c/001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-5836567448705293220</id><published>2007-08-11T19:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-15T00:46:57.107-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Days and Nights In the Kingdom of Mean!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr-x_ubdkxI/AAAAAAAAAEo/vFf_si4nH1c/s1600-h/IMG_0581.JPG"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr-x_ubdkxI/AAAAAAAAAEo/vFf_si4nH1c/s320/IMG_0581.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097989011559781138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr-yAObdkyI/AAAAAAAAAEw/psD53ccWQhk/s1600-h/DSC02659.JPG"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr-yAObdkyI/AAAAAAAAAEw/psD53ccWQhk/s320/DSC02659.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097989020149715746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I went from one bastion of higher education to another, and found myself the guest of the &lt;a href="http://www.kingdomofmean.com/QOA/"target=_blank&gt;Queen of Ass&lt;/a&gt;!  The first couple of days, I stayed in her office, tucked away with many of her textbooks.  And some funky art!  She had studying and tests and all that good stuff.  I basically had about a week off with her, which was nice.  Those Texas girls all ran me ragged!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she was finally able, we had a little makeout session!  And then one thing led to another...  And, well, I'll let your imagination wander.  There were a few other pictures too, but I'm too shy to be posting them here!  All in all, I had a wonderful time with the Queen.  She seems to be a bit busy all the time, but she's a pretty cool lady!  She had one more surprise in store for me, but that came much later!  The last thing I remember about her is being sent off for an adventure in Florida!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-5836567448705293220?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/5836567448705293220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=5836567448705293220&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/5836567448705293220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/5836567448705293220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2007/08/days-and-nights-in-kingom-of-mean.html' title='Days and Nights In the Kingdom of Mean!'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr-x_ubdkxI/AAAAAAAAAEo/vFf_si4nH1c/s72-c/IMG_0581.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-3370611186748918830</id><published>2007-08-10T18:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-12T19:43:43.617-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ye of Little Faith!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr-rf-bdkwI/AAAAAAAAAEg/ec7Ti9q0ZXg/s1600-h/jesus_osshirt1.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr-rf-bdkwI/AAAAAAAAAEg/ec7Ti9q0ZXg/s400/jesus_osshirt1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097981869029167874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I might have been in the presence of some music gods in Austin, but when I came back to the Dallas area, I wasn't prepared for this!  I ended up with &lt;a href="http://estellasrevenge.blogspot.com/"target=_blank&gt;Andi&lt;/a&gt;, of &lt;a href="http://estellasrevenge.blogspot.com/"target=_blank&gt;Estella's Revenge&lt;/a&gt;.  I'd heard that she was sort of a bookworm, but DAMN!  And not only that, she was teaching at the same time!  And working on her Master's degree!  Wow!  I'm not sure I ever made it home with her, but I did spend time in her office, and found myself adorning a neon pink Jesus.  I quote from her site:&lt;ul&gt;"...the new cute things I found upon arriving in my office this morning. One is the "Answer Me Jesus" doll. He's a neon pink Jesus that works something like a magic 8-ball. You simply shake him and receive and receive answers to all of life's questions. Things like: "Resist the Devil!" "I Died for This?" and "Ye of Little Faith!" In addition to the pink Jesus TheOtherFeminist also bought us a lime green Buddha head in an orange box..."&lt;/ul&gt;I'm not totally sure if I'm going to Hell for that, but I suppose I could always ask him!  All I know is that I was on my way to visit a Queen!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-3370611186748918830?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/3370611186748918830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=3370611186748918830&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/3370611186748918830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/3370611186748918830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2007/08/ye-of-little-faith.html' title='Ye of Little Faith!'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr-rf-bdkwI/AAAAAAAAAEg/ec7Ti9q0ZXg/s72-c/jesus_osshirt1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-1828691655990344095</id><published>2007-08-09T12:13:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-12T22:28:13.854-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Live Music Capital of the World</title><content type='html'>My time in Kentucky was short-lived, because &lt;a href="http://texasspitfire.blogspot.com/"target=_blank&gt;Texas Spitfire&lt;/a&gt; apparently wasn't through with me, and again threatened people with her gun.  So I make it Dallas again (you'd think that I lived here...), where Spitfire has met up with &lt;a href="http://andyt13.blogspot.com/"target=_blank&gt;AndyT13&lt;/a&gt;!  And we head to Austin!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd never been to Austin, which makes sense, since the big guy hadn't either.  But I can remember watching Austin City Limits on TV!  But I had no idea!  Music, music, music as far as the eye can see and ear can hear!  And friendly people all over.  I was passed around to all sorts of strangers to wear.  We walked around, and saw Stevie Ray Vaughan!  And the Statue of Liberty!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr9UYebdkrI/AAAAAAAAAD4/cH7kMAF6IgQ/s1600-h/Image45.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr9UYebdkrI/AAAAAAAAAD4/cH7kMAF6IgQ/s200/Image45.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097886082668532402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr9UYubdktI/AAAAAAAAAEI/2IrcHgY6vG4/s1600-h/of%3D50,332,442.jpeg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr9UYubdktI/AAAAAAAAAEI/2IrcHgY6vG4/s200/of%3D50,332,442.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097886086963499730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr9XWebdkvI/AAAAAAAAAEY/FE6uW_EF0qU/s1600-h/of%3D50,590,442-11.jpeg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr9XWebdkvI/AAAAAAAAAEY/FE6uW_EF0qU/s200/of%3D50,590,442-11.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097889346843677426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr9UYubdksI/AAAAAAAAAEA/BAdQBMeLGy8/s1600-h/of%3D50,292,442-2.jpeg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr9UYubdksI/AAAAAAAAAEA/BAdQBMeLGy8/s200/of%3D50,292,442-2.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097886086963499714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alot of time was spent around the pool.  And frankly, I preferred looking good on her, than on him, but all the while--I did look good!  While I enjoyed Austin, I had other places in Texas to visit.  And while I looked good with the guitar god (Stevie, not Andy..., well, Andy too!), I was not prepared for who I'd be found with next!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-1828691655990344095?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/1828691655990344095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=1828691655990344095&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/1828691655990344095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/1828691655990344095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2007/08/live-music-capital-of-world.html' title='Live Music Capital of the World'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr9UYebdkrI/AAAAAAAAAD4/cH7kMAF6IgQ/s72-c/Image45.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-2266020897530376021</id><published>2007-08-08T11:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-15T00:49:09.927-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Half a Day in KY!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr9LAebdklI/AAAAAAAAADI/wuBjdFO5JIg/s1600-h/OsShirt+014.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr9LAebdklI/AAAAAAAAADI/wuBjdFO5JIg/s320/OsShirt+014.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097875774747021906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr9LJObdkmI/AAAAAAAAADQ/Cd-cPmaHBlI/s1600-h/OsShirt+012.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr9LJObdkmI/AAAAAAAAADQ/Cd-cPmaHBlI/s320/OsShirt+012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097875925070877282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Possibly it was the trauma of the gunfight, or just being fought over by two lovely ladies, but my mind couldn't quite comprehend my next couple of days.  It still makes no sense to me, but I found myself in Kentucky!  &lt;a href="http://goreadmyblog.blogspot.com/"&gt;Robyn&lt;/a&gt; took me in, and if things followed the way they had been, I'd be here for a few days.  Get to know her cats.  And the dogs.  And her tremendously cute little girl.  And her good-lookin' husband.  What I've learned is that you can't anticipate what may or may not happen!  Robyn and I spent some quality time together the same night that I came to town.  Then I was mailed off again first thing in the morning!  What did I do?  Did I offend her?  Did she just use me and discard me?  I was confused.  Until I found out where I was to end up...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-2266020897530376021?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/2266020897530376021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=2266020897530376021&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/2266020897530376021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/2266020897530376021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2007/08/half-day-in-ky.html' title='Half a Day in KY!'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/Rr9LAebdklI/AAAAAAAAADI/wuBjdFO5JIg/s72-c/OsShirt+014.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-1307082610458212269</id><published>2007-08-07T14:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-05T15:57:40.197-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Gunfight in Texas</title><content type='html'>The next couple of weeks in my travels were quite confusing, time-consuming, and frankly, DANGEROUS!  It all started when I ended up in Dallas.  I was originally sent to &lt;a href="http://texasspitfire.blogspot.com/"target=_blank&gt;Texas Spitfire&lt;/a&gt;.  Apparently, &lt;a href="http://tastytidbits.blogspot.com/"target=_blank&gt;No One In Particular&lt;/a&gt; took offense to the fact that I didn't come see her earlier, and she went out to confront Spitfire.  It culminated in a showdown in a park, with both participants packin' iron!  Fortunately, no shots were fired, and I came out of it unscathed.  I might have peed my pants, but since I'm a shirt, I don't wear pants, so that makes no sense.  This entire incident really messed me up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrZCEebdkdI/AAAAAAAAACE/OUtQnfRx2zA/s1600-h/Spitfire.d.small.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrZCEebdkdI/AAAAAAAAACE/OUtQnfRx2zA/s200/Spitfire.d.small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095332673071452626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrZCEebdkeI/AAAAAAAAACM/ZsMY8AATQnk/s1600-h/Spitfire.f.small.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrZCEebdkeI/AAAAAAAAACM/ZsMY8AATQnk/s200/Spitfire.f.small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095332673071452642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrZCEebdkfI/AAAAAAAAACU/QTVlYQwJo_U/s1600-h/yNDy8PMv.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrZCEebdkfI/AAAAAAAAACU/QTVlYQwJo_U/s200/yNDy8PMv.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095332673071452658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrZCE-bdkgI/AAAAAAAAACc/MCUePF2eo5s/s1600-h/Hats.a.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrZCE-bdkgI/AAAAAAAAACc/MCUePF2eo5s/s200/Hats.a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095332681661387266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out of it all, I got to spend quality time with both of them, believe it or not!  Here's some pictures with Spitfire, and with NOIP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrZDw-bdkhI/AAAAAAAAACk/bByZVDtp5HI/s1600-h/of%3D50,590,442-3.jpeg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrZDw-bdkhI/AAAAAAAAACk/bByZVDtp5HI/s200/of%3D50,590,442-3.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095334537087259154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrZDw-bdkiI/AAAAAAAAACs/Q_wCQYLM4qs/s1600-h/Pa010027.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrZDw-bdkiI/AAAAAAAAACs/Q_wCQYLM4qs/s200/Pa010027.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095334537087259170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrZEn-bdkjI/AAAAAAAAAC0/2I1bR5I_Rf8/s1600-h/DriveNaked.a.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrZEn-bdkjI/AAAAAAAAAC0/2I1bR5I_Rf8/s200/DriveNaked.a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095335481980064306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrZEn-bdkkI/AAAAAAAAAC8/r1Nl4LFPWeY/s1600-h/PinkHatOsShirt.b.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrZEn-bdkkI/AAAAAAAAAC8/r1Nl4LFPWeY/s200/PinkHatOsShirt.b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095335481980064322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the height of all this, I was shipped of for a whopping half day in Kentucky, only to come back and check out more of Texas!  More on that later...!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-1307082610458212269?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/1307082610458212269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=1307082610458212269&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/1307082610458212269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/1307082610458212269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2007/08/gunfight-in-texas.html' title='Gunfight in Texas'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrZCEebdkdI/AAAAAAAAACE/OUtQnfRx2zA/s72-c/Spitfire.d.small.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-2896953905200709532</id><published>2007-08-06T14:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-05T15:59:12.020-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Doing My Part!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrY1a-bdkcI/AAAAAAAAAB8/u_qb6Jx0BWY/s1600-h/bare210.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrY1a-bdkcI/AAAAAAAAAB8/u_qb6Jx0BWY/s200/bare210.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095318765967348162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm not sure when I found the time to be able to do it, but I did my part for the &lt;a href="http://www.boobiethon.com/"target=_blank&gt;5th Annual Blogger Boobie-Thon&lt;/a&gt;.  With some help of course!  This noble effort raises money for breast cancer related causes.  The big guy helps out by donating money (and getting his password!), but this year was my first chance to help out as a participant.  I certainly hope I'll be able to do something again for Boobie-Thon 2007!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-2896953905200709532?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/2896953905200709532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=2896953905200709532&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/2896953905200709532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/2896953905200709532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2007/08/doing-my-part.html' title='Doing My Part!'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrY1a-bdkcI/AAAAAAAAAB8/u_qb6Jx0BWY/s72-c/bare210.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-3231456087932898834</id><published>2007-08-05T13:57:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-05T18:32:21.552-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Do All Rednecks Look Like This??</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrYsi-bdkbI/AAAAAAAAAB0/QN4YT0YrDxQ/s1600-h/os+shirt+tit.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrYsi-bdkbI/AAAAAAAAAB0/QN4YT0YrDxQ/s200/os+shirt+tit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095309007801651634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The next stop on my adventure took me to the land of sunflowers and tornadoes and girls in pigtails, clad in blue gingham dresses.  Unless you're off to see a transplanted Okie who was born in Alaska!  I was happy to be the guest of the &lt;a href="http://ekkimodewie.blogspot.com/"target=_blank&gt;Redneck Eskimo&lt;/a&gt;, who has been a friend of the big guy's for quite awhile.  She was still getting used to her new town, and her new job.  But she was willing to take me in for a few days!  We didn't get to see a great deal of the new town, since she was sort of new herself, so we mostly stayed in.  The really noticeable thing?  The rednecks in Montana don't look like this!  My next stop?  Back to Dallas again.  Apparently I didn't get to meet everyone I was supposed to.  But who could have anticipated what was about to happen next??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-3231456087932898834?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/3231456087932898834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=3231456087932898834&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/3231456087932898834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/3231456087932898834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2007/08/rednecks-all-look-like-this.html' title='Do All Rednecks Look Like This??'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrYsi-bdkbI/AAAAAAAAAB0/QN4YT0YrDxQ/s72-c/os+shirt+tit.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-4347662450831489773</id><published>2007-08-04T12:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-05T14:52:27.863-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'd Ride Her Harley Any Day!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrYZO-bdkZI/AAAAAAAAABk/88YFczFsxe4/s1600-h/mchntosshirt.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrYZO-bdkZI/AAAAAAAAABk/88YFczFsxe4/s200/mchntosshirt.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095287773483340178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After being sent away from the zoo, I found myself in the clutches of a very lovely woman and a motorcycle.  This definitely wasn't your typical biker mama by any means!  I found my self with &lt;a href="http://timetoponderponder.blogspot.com/"target=_blank&gt;No One Special&lt;/a&gt; (though I'd disagree to the end of time with that name!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrYZhObdkaI/AAAAAAAAABs/u9cg55qW-Ao/s1600-h/5.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrYZhObdkaI/AAAAAAAAABs/u9cg55qW-Ao/s200/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095288087015952802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I remember that it was fairly smoky at the time.  Lots of forest fires still around, so I figured I was still in Montana.  I definitely remember jumping in the shower with her!  I don't know if it helped with the smoky smell any, but it certainly put the starch back in my collar, if you know what I mean!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It quickly became apparent that my destiny was to travel, and not settle down too long at any one location.  True to that end, I found myself being sent off to my next stop.  Down to the land of rednecks!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-4347662450831489773?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/4347662450831489773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=4347662450831489773&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/4347662450831489773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/4347662450831489773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2007/08/id-ride-her-harley-any-day.html' title='I&apos;d Ride Her Harley Any Day!'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrYZO-bdkZI/AAAAAAAAABk/88YFczFsxe4/s72-c/mchntosshirt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-9142148281626891321</id><published>2007-08-03T12:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-05T14:52:11.025-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Time At the Zoo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrYUNebdkXI/AAAAAAAAABU/9IAlurjmxcA/s1600-h/Hnt07z.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrYUNebdkXI/AAAAAAAAABU/9IAlurjmxcA/s200/Hnt07z.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095282250155397490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I spent the next couple of days at what I think had to have been a zoo.  There were cats everywhere.  And a couple of dogs.  And horses.  And bears.  Hummingbirds.  Deer.  Raccoons.  All being run by a very attractive redhead!  I seem to have met alot of redheads so far!  I learned that this one's name was Crimson.  An appropriate name!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrYUWObdkYI/AAAAAAAAABc/J9_h6T5l0ao/s1600-h/hntos4.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrYUWObdkYI/AAAAAAAAABc/J9_h6T5l0ao/s200/hntos4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095282400479252866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one was different though.  I actually felt like I was in a photo studio, rather than having my picture taken at the spur of the moment.  Was she a famous model or something?  Was I about to become famous?  Only time would tell.  In the meantime, I played with the cats, the dogs, the horses....  And then one day, I was packaged up and mailed off.  Apparently, the adventures were going to continue!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-9142148281626891321?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/9142148281626891321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=9142148281626891321&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/9142148281626891321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/9142148281626891321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2007/08/my-time-at-zoo.html' title='My Time At the Zoo'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrYUNebdkXI/AAAAAAAAABU/9IAlurjmxcA/s72-c/Hnt07z.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-116413890415207451</id><published>2007-08-02T12:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-05T11:56:19.114-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Back Home?</title><content type='html'>As mentioned in the post below, the big guy pretty much crumbled in my absence.  When the girls came back from the Park, they dropped me off with him, and in an instant, I knew I wanted to be back on the road again.  He found himself in trouble with the law.  I was there to support him as best I could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7595/3751/1600/93489/DSC01533.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7595/3751/320/398745/DSC01533.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7595/3751/1600/777548/DSC01528.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7595/3751/320/943823/DSC01528.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this was bigger than the both of us.  He had already paid fines, had a court date, faced more penalties, and generally was a total mess.  I knew I couldn't help him.  We had a frank discussion, as only a shirt and its owner can, and it was decided that yes, it would be best if I were to go away.  It really was for the best.  Little did I know how bad things were, until he was picked up AGAIN by law enforcement while delivering me to my next destination!  Fortunately, he was allowed to deliver me before having to face any more problems...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrYOHObdkUI/AAAAAAAAAA8/BQqPQPHA-lY/s1600-h/DSC01555.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrYOHObdkUI/AAAAAAAAAA8/BQqPQPHA-lY/s200/DSC01555.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095275545711448386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3025/786/1600/DSC01587.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3025/786/200/DSC01587.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We said our goodbyes, and I looked forward to new adventures at my new home...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-116413890415207451?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/116413890415207451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=116413890415207451&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/116413890415207451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/116413890415207451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2006/12/back-home.html' title='Back Home?'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrYOHObdkUI/AAAAAAAAAA8/BQqPQPHA-lY/s72-c/DSC01555.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-116360953012973959</id><published>2007-08-01T09:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-05T14:15:51.954-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Camping Out</title><content type='html'>As I was sent away, I definitely felt a bit of a chill in the air.  I certainly wasn't in the blazing heat of Texas anymore!  There was something familiar in the air.  It felt like home, but not quite.  As soon as my package was opened up, it was  again apparent that the big guy didn't have me, but a couple of his friends did.  &lt;a href="http://everyoneweknow.blogspot.com/"target=_blank&gt;Rachel&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://moosekahl.blogspot.com/"target=_blank&gt;Moose&lt;/a&gt; were now my keepers.  This could only mean one of two things.  I was one step closer to home, or I was going to be invoved in a nasty intervention.  Only time would tell.  My dream mentioned in the prior post was more of an omen than nightmare.  I was here with Moose again, but I was all in one piece!  Whew!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't go to see the big guy.  Instead we went camping up at Hidden Lake in beautiful Glacier Park.  Beautiful sunny days, without the heat of Texas.  Cool crisp nights, clear waters, wildlife, campfires, more stars than you can count.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrYJGebdkTI/AAAAAAAAAA0/wBUPB5MS5oI/s1600-h/429322193206_0_ALB.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrYJGebdkTI/AAAAAAAAAA0/wBUPB5MS5oI/s200/429322193206_0_ALB.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7595/3751/1600/395801/IMG_3393.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7595/3751/200/583379/IMG_3393.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7595/3751/1600/871141/482551990206_0_BG.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7595/3751/200/92544/482551990206_0_BG.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a nice couple of days, which was desperately needed.  Little did I realize what had happened with the big guy in my absense.  It wasn't pretty...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-116360953012973959?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/116360953012973959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=116360953012973959&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/116360953012973959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/116360953012973959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2006/12/blog-post.html' title='Camping Out'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C6qS4jcfJ5s/RrYJGebdkTI/AAAAAAAAAA0/wBUPB5MS5oI/s72-c/429322193206_0_ALB.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-116360899743437152</id><published>2006-11-21T00:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T11:57:45.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nightmare on 16th St. S.W.</title><content type='html'>Ever have one of those dreams that seemed so realistic, that you couldn't tell where the dream ended, and "awake" began?  This happened to me after Princess Stephanie mailed me off to my next destination.  I don't know if it was the shots, or the Texas heat, or just the afterglow of Stephanie herself, but I found myself in the midst of a bizarre and disturbing dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It involved the big guy's best friend, &lt;a href="http://moosekahl.blogspot.com/"target=_blank&gt;Moose&lt;/a&gt;.  A nice enough girl.  We've been seen together in the past--there's even a picture of us in an earlier post down there.  &lt;i&gt;Never&lt;/i&gt; would I have imagined her to be able to do something like I'm about to describe!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have all the specifics.  You know how dreams sort of fade away quickly.  But what I do remember (or &lt;i&gt;think&lt;/i&gt; I remember) is that she got her hands on me in some sort of jealous rage.  Rage from having to share me with so many others.  Not that SHE ever wore me!  Sure, she'd spilled beer on me in the past.  Cried on me once or twice, too.  But she'd never worn me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow she'd gotten ahold of me.  Me in one hand, and a pair of scissors in the other.  And she was half-nekkid.  What was about to happen to me??  I finally figured out that it wasn't me that she was really after.  I was an innocent victim.  In a sick, twisted way, she was going to send me back to the big guy as some sort of belated birthday present.  I could only imagine what was about to happen to me.  Out of sheer terror, I blacked out.  I'm not sure what happened next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At some point, I awoke.  I'm not sure when or where.  But I had to check myself.  Buttons were all there.  Nothing cut out.  Whew!  Thank goodness it was just a bad dream!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or was it.....?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3025/786/1600/IMG_3120.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3025/786/320/IMG_3120.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3025/786/1600/IMG_3121.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3025/786/320/IMG_3121.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-116360899743437152?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/116360899743437152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=116360899743437152&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/116360899743437152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/116360899743437152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2006/11/nightmare-on-16th-st-sw.html' title='Nightmare on 16th St. S.W.'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-116360881894091654</id><published>2006-11-20T14:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T11:11:08.160-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Running Across Town</title><content type='html'>It didn't take long to get from Michelle's place to my next destination.  Just across town, really.  But a really LARGE town!  Soon I found myself in the clutches of Princess Stephanie.  No teenagers here!  Not that this was a bad thing.  Princess Stephanie &amp; I had a wild time together!!  It was a little hard to keep track of who was with us during the night, as the drinks came in from every angle!  In the end, though, it was ME that she took home!  Unfortunately, there wasn't much of a photographic record taken of the evening.  The best we could come up with was this shot with her cell phone.  At least it leaves a great deal to the imagination!  I might add that numerous nasty texts and calls were made with the same phone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3025/786/1600/StephOs.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3025/786/400/StephOs.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't get to spend as much time with the Princess as I would have liked.  I heard her mention something about needing to get me to my next destination quickly.  She sent me off with a kiss and a smile.  Off to a new adventure.  Little did I realize who I was going to meet, or what was about to happen next!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-116360881894091654?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/116360881894091654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=116360881894091654&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/116360881894091654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/116360881894091654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2006/11/running-across-town.html' title='Running Across Town'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-116275317227392190</id><published>2006-11-05T11:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T11:10:49.620-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bright, Like the Texas Sun!</title><content type='html'>After a wonderful time with Lindsey, it was time for me to move on.   But not out of Texas.  No, no, no!  This particular trip was fairly short, and found me in the middle of the state.  For the amount of time I ended up staying in this general area, it might as well have become my second home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got to the next stop, I was greeted by another teenager.  Ack!  Fortunately, this one was a pretty good kid too.  In fact, the big guy, in a totally unexpected move, called to see if I had made it there.  WHAT???  More proof that he was in on all of this up to his elbows, at the very least!  The teenager answered the phone, and told him that &lt;a href="http://idontfeellikeamom.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Michelle&lt;/a&gt; (my newest hostess), wasn't home.  The big guy asked to leave a message, saying he was from Montana, and the kid responded, "Oh, we got the shirt!  Mom's been running around all day wearing it!"  At least I was well-loved while I was here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/100_3354.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/400/100_3354.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://idontfeellikeamom.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Michelle&lt;/a&gt; tried something different with me (and I'm always up for something different...), by wearing me almost like a kimono.  I don't remember ever being able to do that with the big guy, but I digress...  She also did a little bit of photo-editing with me.  I don't think I was this bright when I was brand new!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/100_3316.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/400/100_3316.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little later on, she opened up the kimono look, and posed with a little more exposed.  No comment on whether or not we took more!  ;-)  I would have liked to have spent more time here, but apparently I was needed elsewhere.  So off I went into the hot Texas sun!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-116275317227392190?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/116275317227392190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=116275317227392190&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/116275317227392190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/116275317227392190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2006/11/bright-like-texas-sun.html' title='Bright, Like the Texas Sun!'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-116111673770065116</id><published>2006-10-30T14:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-04T19:41:21.030-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer in the Lone Star State</title><content type='html'>I spent a great deal of time after the Michigan blogger's party with the lovely Roxi.  A gentleman never tells what goes on, but let's suffice it to say that she didn't want to let me go!  Finally, though, I found myself packaged up and ready to be sent on.  By this time, I had already questioned the big guy's intentions in all of this.  He didn't seem to make any effort to retrieve me, and frankly, I didn't care.  It was during the time with Roxi that I realized that I was no longer an abused victim, but a fun-loving article of clothing that planned to make the best of what the future held!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was being mailed off, the only real question that came to mind anymore was, "where will I end up next?"  I was ready for whatever adventure that was in my path.  What I don't think I expected was to find myself in southeast Texas.  In the late part of June.  Despite my tropical motif, I'm not really used to the warm/hot weather.  I must have passed out from heat exhaustion or something, because when I came to, I found myself in the back seat of a car.  What was to become of me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately for me, I found that I was with a really pretty lady!  Her name was Lindsey.  She didn't wait to get me home to run me through my paces.  She put me on right then and there!  In the car!  There was something very exciting about that!  And I noticed another thing--she was a redhead!  I like redheads!  I hope I get to meet some more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/mail3.6.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/400/mail3.5.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a long, hot day of work and running errands, she took me home, and we kicked back to watch a little baseball.  Yeah--that's Roger Clemens' return to the Astros we were watching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/osshirta.0.6.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/400/osshirta.0.5.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, the down time was just what I needed after the Michigan party.  Again, my mind wandered to the possibility of settling down here.  I could get used to this.  Apparently, Lindsey and others had different plans for me.  While my time with Lindsey was short and sweet, it was wonderful.  But more adventures awaited me, and soon I found myself once again packaged up and ready to roll...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-116111673770065116?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/116111673770065116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=116111673770065116&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/116111673770065116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/116111673770065116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2006/10/summer-in-lone-star-state.html' title='Summer in the Lone Star State'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-116025278612926676</id><published>2006-10-07T13:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-10-08T01:46:10.243-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wolverine Country</title><content type='html'>As I last left you, I was kicked back with Biscuit and Bailey's.  And I thought that this was going to be my life.  Oh, I was so wrong...  At some point, I was wrapped up and shipped off again.  Biscuit must have slipped something into my Bailey's, because the next few weeks are a blank to me.  I know that I was mailed to another place, but I have no idea what unspeakable horrors happened to me there.  There were no parties.  No pictures.  No record of that time.  But a funny thing happened.  I took that time to realize that I was enjoying this particular life, as sordid and weird as it may be!  It was during this "dark time" that I realized that this was the new me.  Sure, I might not see the big guy ever again, but that didn't bother me.  I was living life on the edge, and full of adventure!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was aware of my next surroundings, I found myself in Michigan, of all places!  Detroit, to be precise.  Motown!  Well, my newfound attitude decided that this was something that I could handle.  I was apparently under the care of the very fun &lt;a href="http://rockandadiamond.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Roxi&lt;/a&gt;!  She introduced me to one of her friends at home.  I thought that this was going to be a nice new phase in my life.  She apparently didn't agree, and I noticed that she didn't quite understand the concept of the shirt, as I found myself somewhere I'd never been!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/Roxi-shirt.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/Roxi-shirt.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/18.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/18.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she took me to Ann Arbor to meet up with her honey, Dan, and some other Michigan bloggers.  There we met &lt;a href="http://bryanscorner.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Barman&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://signgurl.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;SignGurl&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://jonslifecontinued.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Jon&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://croakerscorner.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Croaker&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://biggirls-world.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Cutie&lt;/a&gt;, and &lt;a href="http://btexpress.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt; BTExpress&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/17.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/17.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/SignGurl-Michigan%20Bloggers%20011.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/SignGurl-Michigan%20Bloggers%20011.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/Roxi-12.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/Roxi-12.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/Jon-Michigan%20Bloggers%20013.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/Jon-Michigan%20Bloggers%20013.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/21.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/21.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stories and the drinks flowed freely, and as the night went on, we ended up in SignGurl's room.  There we all partook (partaked?) in over 250 Jello shots.  You can imagine how things went after that!  Lots of laughs, lots of silliness, lots of pictures.  The shots must have done something to me, because I found myself sharing half-nekkidness with BTE.  And his nipple.  I may be scarred for life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/19.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/19.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/53.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/53.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately, I was left in the care of one of the ladies for the night, whom I also got to spend some half-nekkidity with.  Much better than BTE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/SignGurlHNT.0.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/SignGurlHNT.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, it wasn't too bad in Michigan.  Actually, it was alot of fun.  For the parts that I remember.  Roxi took me back to Detroit, but didn't let go of me for awhile.  Once again, I was lulled into thinking that this is where I'd spend my final days.  But no, little did I know what was awaiting me down the road...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-116025278612926676?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/116025278612926676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=116025278612926676&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/116025278612926676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/116025278612926676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2006/10/wolverine-country.html' title='Wolverine Country'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-115906593023194718</id><published>2006-09-24T23:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-09-26T23:03:06.730-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Abduction Is On (or is it?)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/patty2a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/400/patty2a.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm repaired, I've got a couple of extra 'things' added to me, and I'm being mailed home.  Yay!  Sure, it's back to Montana, but I've been away and neglected too long.  But I have this nagging thought in the back of my mind--I think I really liked my time away.  They were fairly nice people.  And in the end, I wasn't too worse for wear.  Maybe I was really beginning to like these people.  I sort of felt sorry that I wasn't going to be seeing those people again.  But no, dammit!  They held me hostage!  They abused me!  I &lt;i&gt;can't&lt;/i&gt; feel this way!  I'm &lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt; &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stockholm_syndrome"target=_blank&gt;Patty Hearst&lt;/a&gt; (for those of you who don't get it, click on the link...)!  But if I actually did the things I think I might have, I'll need an excuse.  Something to blame it on...  Maybe I'll do the research when I get home.  Yes, home to the big guy in Montana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, imagine the shock when the package was opened when I got home!  It wasn't the big guy!  It was a very attractive woman!  And this certainly wasn't the big guy's apartment!  What just happened?  I felt it best to just listen, and see if I could figure this out.  And I found out alot!  This woman, code-named &lt;a href="http://onebiscuithound.blogspot.com/"target=_blank&gt;Biscuit&lt;/a&gt; (where &lt;i&gt;do&lt;/i&gt; they get these names?), was apparently a friend of the girls in Nashville.  I was being spirited around like the underground railroad!  While I wasn't sure of where I was, I was relatively certain it was nowhere near Montana!  As I awaited my fate, I felt a calm fall over me.  I could worry about what was going to happen to me, or I could be like Patty, and just enjoy the ride, and embrace my captors.  With that mindset, I was ready for whatever this pretty lady was ready to dish out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/Biscuit-IMGP0697.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/400/Biscuit-IMGP0697.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously, from this picture, you can see that I was in the midst of a more laid-back, serene atmosphere.  No wild parties, no button-ripping escapades.  Just a glass of Bailey's, a warm fire, and her company.  I was in great hands.  I could get to like this, I think...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-115906593023194718?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/115906593023194718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=115906593023194718&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/115906593023194718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/115906593023194718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2006/09/abduction-is-on-or-is-it.html' title='The Abduction Is On (or is it?)'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-115906262488402012</id><published>2006-09-23T19:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-09-23T20:45:15.643-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Held Captive</title><content type='html'>Without question, the last days of 2005 showed me a whole new life that I didn't know existed.  It was, for the lack of a better term, scary.  I had not seen so much alcohol, so much nekkid skin, so much other stuff in my entire life.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit that, for the parts that I remember, I had a good time.  The dawn of 2006 saw me a little damaged, but looking forward to going home.  It was sort of warm in Nashville, and the big guy would wear me anytime during the cold Montana winters.  But I was ready to head back.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then it happened.  The big nothing.  I spent the better part of the next 10 weeks as a captive.  No attempts to send me back.  No attempts by the big guy to come get me.  Did I do something so horrible that he didn't want me back?  Or that Kelly couldn't face me again?  Was Sam going to come rescue me (I kinda liked her, too...)?  Around mid-March, Kelly hands me off to her daughter.  Finally!  I've been noticed.  But given to a young teenager?  What horrors was I going to be subjected to now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, she's the one who showed me some love.  She replaced all my buttons (all mismatched), and added a few 'extras'.  Including a little jingly bell, a pink ribbon, and a few other things.  The next thing you know, I've been packaged up and sent off in the mail.  I'm finally going home!  Or so I thought...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-115906262488402012?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/115906262488402012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=115906262488402012&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/115906262488402012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/115906262488402012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2006/09/held-captive.html' title='Held Captive'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-115904180613386727</id><published>2006-09-23T13:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-09-23T16:35:45.633-06:00</updated><title type='text'>New Year's Eve Eve Party</title><content type='html'>The big guy and I returned to Montana in time for Christmas, but apparently not before a little negotiating between him and some of the Nashville girls.  The girls were going to throw a little New Year's Eve Eve party and invited him to come.  Since he wasn't going to be able to swing it, he offered to send me in his place.  And so it began...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sent off to Kelly, a cute little leprechaun of a girl.  She had plenty to celebrate, so I knew that it could get wild and crazy, but I wasn't worried.  I guess I'm just not wise to the ways of the world.  It started off tame, with Kelly donning me, but I apparently stay with her very long.  Lola grabbed me, and did some bizarre things with me that I don't ever remember the big guy doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/100_1336.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/100_1336.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/100_1386.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/100_1386.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don got ahold of me at some point.  I'm not sure if I'm more disturbed by the cowboy boots, or the tent being pitched...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/100_1338.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/100_1338.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don's wife Sam then got in the act, and I felt I was finally going to get to spend the rest of the evening with someone safe.  Remember those curves I mentioned in the last post?  Yeah--I had the same feelings here.  Next thing I know, Kelly has crawled in with us (remember--I'm a big shirt).  And then she burst out like a stripper at a bachelor party.  From that point on, the rest of the night is a blur.  I think it was about the same time that I lost all of my buttons.  I was told later that every one of them was ripped out and flew to all corners of the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/shirt1.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/shirt1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/shirt3.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/shirt3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/shirt4.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/shirt4.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kelly grabbed me back and was cocooned by me.  Sam somehow ended up with me, and I think I ended up spending the night with her.  Since I no longer had buttons, she just tied me up in a knot in front--something else the big guy had never done.  She continued late into the evening, giving out zrbts, and eventually passing out while the others took advantage of her condition. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/party2.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/party2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/party9.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/party9.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/zrbt3.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/zrbt3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/100_1494.0.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/100_1494.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I mentioned in my profile--this is the party where I was abused, spilled on, and found myself passed from body to body.  I was physically maimed, I had my picture taken in compromising situations (think &lt;i&gt;these&lt;/i&gt; were the only pictures taken??), and basically humiliated.  I'm sure there were other hideous things that happened to me, but no one is talking.  The big guy would have probably enjoyed himself here, but this was a bit much for me.  Little did I know that this was the beginning of my current adventure.  I'll save that revelation for a later time...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-115904180613386727?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/115904180613386727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=115904180613386727&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/115904180613386727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/115904180613386727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2006/09/new-years-eve-eve-party.html' title='New Year&apos;s Eve Eve Party'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-115864342588992256</id><published>2006-09-18T21:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-09-18T23:35:02.136-06:00</updated><title type='text'>An Ominous Adventure</title><content type='html'>As previously mentioned, the big guy started the whole blogging craze, which started to take up alot of his spare time.  Granted, I joined him alot of the time, and he even made a couple of avatars with me--even when he got his hair cut short!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/OsSPark.0.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/OsSPark.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/Picture%204.0.png"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style=" cursor=" pointer="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/Picture%204.png" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He took me along to Portland when he went to go see the Rolling Stones with a friend of his that he called &lt;a href="http://drkamey.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Just.A.Girl&lt;/a&gt;.  He took a little side trip to make a surprise visit with a woman he called &lt;a href="http://todaysaddiction.wordpress.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Addict&lt;/a&gt;.  She seemed to be a nice lady, but with a strange fascination for sharp, pointy surgical instruments.  And it looked like she was trying to draw her own OsShirt all over her body.  But he seemed happy to meet her, so that was a good thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/DSC00009.0.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/400/DSC00009.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then it happened.  The local college team was playing for their 4th consecutive national football championship in Tennessee, and he decided to go.  Better yet, he decided to drive!  And I got to join him!!  He got to meet &lt;a href="http://www.chattiekat.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Tish&lt;/a&gt; the night before the football game.  They got to eat at Hooters (didn't get to go there...) and came back to get ready for the football game the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then something weird happened.  One minute I'm packed away in his bag, and the next, I'm being worn.  And not by the big guy!  I sort of liked this!  A different set of curves to follow, and she smelled a whole lot better.  I'm not sure, but this may have been an omen.  I LIKED being worn by someone else.  This might have been the spark that I needed to start my own adventures!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/DSC00401.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/400/DSC00401.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't get to go to the game, either, but there was a party that night in Nashville with a bunch of his blogger buddies.  And I got to meet them all in person!  I'd seen them on the computer, but this was totally different!  Lots of people, lots of beer, lots of laughs, lots of pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/000_20322.0.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/000_20322.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/100_1185.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/100_1185.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/000_2063.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/000_2063.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/76046545_014323272d_o.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/76046545_014323272d_o.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/76149881_2227e2d6a0_o.0.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/400/76149881_2227e2d6a0_o.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things were different after that.  In a good way.  He seemed to have a smile on his face more often, and I started thinking back to the girl that wore me.  It tingled my buttons.  If there were just some sort of way that I could enjoy that experience again...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-115864342588992256?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/115864342588992256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=115864342588992256&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/115864342588992256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/115864342588992256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2006/09/ominous-adventure.html' title='An Ominous Adventure'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34089134.post-115792059593649342</id><published>2006-09-17T00:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-09-17T15:59:18.146-06:00</updated><title type='text'>OsShirt - The Early Days</title><content type='html'>The Early Days--I don't recall much.  Just little bits and pieces of things.  I'm hanging around in a store, and then I see him.  A good-looking man.  Dashing, even.  Dark hair, with a little gray beginning to show.  Hard to determine his age.  Probably a Parrothead wannabe.  He probably looks younger than he actually is.  Not a small man, either, but I'm a big shirt, so I see a match made in heaven.  My coloring and flowers are a bit flambouyant, but I think that this guy might be too.  And my hunches are correct.  He buys me, and we're off for faraway adventures!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the faraway adventures didn't materialize the way that I had hoped.  But I quickly learned some things about this guy.  He plays trombone in a fairly popular variety band, and I've been to quite a few gigs with him.  I've heard he plays in the symphony too, but I've never been there.  He's also a beer drinker.  I've done alot of that with him.  He seems to have alot of friends, mostly girls for some reason, and he's pretty close with his family.  Here's a group of pictures from those old days, when life was predictable and easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/100_0024.2.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/100_0024.2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/100_0014.2.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/100_0014.2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/DSCF1198_1.4.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/DSCF1198_1.4.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/DSCF2300_1.5.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/DSCF2300_1.4.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/P1010066_1.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/P1010066_1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/About%20an%20Hour%20from%20Home.0.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/About%20an%20Hour%20from%20Home.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/J1280x960-1.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/J1280x960-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/1600/DSCF0866.jpg"target=_blank&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7595/3751/200/DSCF0866.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've done some road trips with him.  Gone to a few concerts.  Met alot of people, even some famous ones!  I thought things were going great with him.  Then he got involved with blogging.  And that's sort of where the story gets interesting.  I hope you'll follow along!  (to be continued...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34089134-115792059593649342?l=osshirt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/feeds/115792059593649342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34089134&amp;postID=115792059593649342&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/115792059593649342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34089134/posts/default/115792059593649342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://osshirt.blogspot.com/2006/09/osshirt-early-days.html' title='OsShirt - The Early Days'/><author><name>OsShirt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02645565113030032926</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/16/23543511_3dcbcee7f5_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry></feed>
