<?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-5164532</id><updated>2011-04-21T21:07:21.017-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Life is 2 Much!</title><subtitle type='html'>Is there anybody out there who's life is as totally freakified as mine?????</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://samdevine.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samdevine.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13350599809742490843</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164532.post-109639844817892604</id><published>2004-09-28T13:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-28T12:07:28.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Plastic! They are going to make my sister into plastic! A Danni Devine doll - possibly the lamest thing I've ever heard. Who needs a Danni Devine doll? Why does my sister think this is a good idea???? I'll bet you a hundered-billion bucks that this is another Robert scheme that sounds great but when it happens - turns out to be a massive mess. Like I don't have enough problems with kids my own </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default/109639844817892604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default/109639844817892604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samdevine.blogspot.com/2004_09_26_archive.html#109639844817892604' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13350599809742490843</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164532.post-109380063665097679</id><published>2004-08-29T10:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-08-29T10:38:01.040-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Super rushed today, but have to tell you what just happened! We are in Canada because Danni had a concert last night in Toronto (I think it's the biggest city here in Canada, not sure). So the show last night is awesome &amp; the crowd was totally fun &amp; nice, and this morning we get packed and go out to explore a bit of the city before we leave &amp; go back home. We are walking around (me, Mom, Danni, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default/109380063665097679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default/109380063665097679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samdevine.blogspot.com/2004_08_29_archive.html#109380063665097679' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13350599809742490843</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164532.post-109138261494597849</id><published>2004-08-01T10:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-08-01T10:56:58.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>There is no crying in mini putt-putt!Olga &amp; I had the most fun last night. We went to one of those huge family-fun centers (totally lame name for such a fun place) and played a very serious round of mini golf. It was hard at first because Robert sent Michi &amp; Lou with us &amp; everyone in the whole place was staring at the 2 freaks with the camera crew taping their every move (big sigh).So, Olga </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default/109138261494597849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default/109138261494597849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samdevine.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109138261494597849' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13350599809742490843</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164532.post-108741180033344515</id><published>2004-06-16T11:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-16T11:57:06.623-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Prunes are not candy! They may taste sweet like candy and have a gooey consistency like some candy, but I have learned from a very embarrassing personal experience, that they do not behave in your stomach like candy.I won't go into the details because it's too pathetic and way too mortifying, but the short version of this tale is that I was super hungry yesterday and went into the kitchen to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default/108741180033344515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default/108741180033344515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samdevine.blogspot.com/2004_06_13_archive.html#108741180033344515' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13350599809742490843</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164532.post-108662956041439591</id><published>2004-06-07T10:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-07T19:34:50.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I saw a big sign in a store today about buying your Father's Day cards now and it made me sad. I wish I'd at least met him. I have his green eyes (that's what my mom says). He liked horses too! I know this from old pictures I found while digging through a few boxes Mom stashed in the garage. I want to know so much about him, but when we talk about him for more than 2 or 3 minutes, my mom gets all</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default/108662956041439591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default/108662956041439591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samdevine.blogspot.com/2004_06_06_archive.html#108662956041439591' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13350599809742490843</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164532.post-108178759324997249</id><published>2004-04-12T09:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-07T19:36:07.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>My best friend Olga is good at everything she tries! She just learned how to knit &amp; already she's making these amazing scarves &amp; stuff. See, Olga's mom is a fashion model &amp; at one of her latest photo shoots, the make-up lady showed Olga how to knit. That's all it took. Olga just needs somebody to show her something &amp; suddenly, she can begin making totally cool things. I wish I was more like that.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default/108178759324997249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default/108178759324997249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samdevine.blogspot.com/2004_04_11_archive.html#108178759324997249' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13350599809742490843</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164532.post-108178772602326816</id><published>2004-04-12T09:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-12T09:39:13.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>This past weekend was both super brilliantly amazing and utterly tragic.I finally got some new riding clothes, real riding clothes. For the first time ever, I got to look in a magazine(I get all the horse riding mags I can find), pick out something that looked totally cool, and walk into a storewith the picture and buy exactly what I wanted. This is one of the things that makes suddenly having</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default/108178772602326816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default/108178772602326816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samdevine.blogspot.com/2004_04_11_archive.html#108178772602326816' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13350599809742490843</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164532.post-106782026335421650</id><published>2003-11-02T16:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-02T16:44:36.873-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I Vote Robert Ruebens off My IslandMy sister's agent is so mean to me that there are no words in English to describe his level of rottenness. Can I make-up my own words? Why not...it's my blog.;-)Okay, here is my list of words (or phrases) that best describe Mr. R.R.:stupifiably evilesquejerkironiouscreepasauras rexfrankenloserMount St. StinkpotDorkarella (sounds a little feminine, I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default/106782026335421650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default/106782026335421650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samdevine.blogspot.com/2003_11_02_archive.html#106782026335421650' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13350599809742490843</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164532.post-106781976445721155</id><published>2003-11-02T16:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-02T16:36:18.076-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Facts of My LifeAfter having a very frustrating argument with my sister last night (not even worth mentioning…but she was wrong!), I hunkered down and reread one of my favorite books (The Diary of Anne Frank). It got me thinking that my blog might not be very interesting because I haven’t told you anything about me, and it’s hard to be interested in a story when you don’t know the main </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default/106781976445721155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default/106781976445721155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samdevine.blogspot.com/2003_11_02_archive.html#106781976445721155' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13350599809742490843</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164532.post-90730625</id><published>2003-03-14T13:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-02T16:34:24.936-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Seems like a lot of people start their blogs with lists of likes and dislikes. I haven't spent a lot of time thinking about these specific things, so I'll give you a super short list just to get going.LIKE:Horses!Reading (especially biographies &amp; books about horses)WritingMy best friend OlgaPizzaDISLIKE:Taking out the garbageHaving to share a room with my sisterThe color PinkMore soon</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default/90730625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5164532/posts/default/90730625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://samdevine.blogspot.com/2003_03_09_archive.html#90730625' title=''/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13350599809742490843</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
