<?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-27056574</id><updated>2011-04-21T17:11:02.801-07:00</updated><title type='text'>rubmebuddy</title><subtitle type='html'>I'm Mickey. I like pretty much anything pretty. Most days I'm just sitting around thinking about how pretty things are and wondering if I'm pretty too. With all the thinking I do, I thought, "hey, I ought to write down all those things". It couldn't hurt. But then I thought, "what if people don't like the same things as me or think I'm ugly?". I don't know about that, so I had to just tell myself, "shut up Mickey. You don't know. Everybody likes to read". This is true I think, and pretty good.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rubmebuddy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27056574/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rubmebuddy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>mickey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15131962616139293941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/283/2841/1600/me.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>5</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27056574.post-115697165924315599</id><published>2006-08-30T11:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T14:01:07.403-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>When I cry or if somebody hurts my feelings, I look at pretty pictures to feel better. Before last Christmas I had about a million cutout pictures in a box under my bed. Then my sister got a big bed, and I got her waterbed that you can't put anything under, so now they're in a drawer. But it doesn't matter because I found out there are tons of pretty pictures you can get on the computer and download from online. You can look at them either big or small. I like ones with people smiling and tree leaves. I have animal ones, things I would buy if I was rich and a picture of every president. Even though most presidents are ugly, I like the way old photos make me wonder. I think about how it must have felt to be alive way back then. I would like to ride a horse or square dance, but I wouldn't want to be president. Most pictures of history were made in black and white until I guess somebody figured out how to do color. I'm glad they did because color helps you see how pretty the sky is, or people's skin, or a red car. My friend Saul is a photographer at my school. His pictures are so good. I'd like to learn how to photo things, but I'm too nervous. I don't want anyone to take a picture of me. Maybe one day when I get contact lenses or a better haircut I will.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27056574-115697165924315599?l=rubmebuddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rubmebuddy.blogspot.com/feeds/115697165924315599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27056574&amp;postID=115697165924315599' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27056574/posts/default/115697165924315599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27056574/posts/default/115697165924315599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rubmebuddy.blogspot.com/2006/08/when-i-cry-or-if-somebody-hurts-my.html' title=''/><author><name>mickey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15131962616139293941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/283/2841/1600/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27056574.post-115129531857073179</id><published>2006-06-25T20:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T08:42:30.563-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I was thinking about parties and funny things when I realized what's so great: polka dots! They're everywhere and so pretty. I've seen polka dots in a magazine, on the TV, on the floor, and on a cake. I have a shirt with white polka dots on it. The shirt is blue and in style. At a dance party, I was with my little sister and we we're having so much fun and dancing, and the best part were the colored lights moving all around, and guess what they looked like?: POLKA DOTS! I like them moving and I like them when they're still. When you think about it, it's the circle shape that polka dots come from. Circles are my favorite shape after diamonds. Real diamonds are expensive but I think just the shape of them is pretty. It's pointed at the top and on the sides but not always shiny... unless it's a diamond-shaped mirror like the one at my friend Desmond's house. It's weird how when you think a lot about polka dots you start seeing them wherever you go. Sometimes flowers have polka dots, or they look like polka dots in a garden. I like buttons, marbles, and bubbles for the same reason. I was wondering if they have polka dots on the internet and guess what? They do! I saw a picture of a lamp with polka dots on the top-part. I tried to print it out from my dad's office, but what came out looks like a bunch of numbers and alphabet letters. Stupid thing. My dad should get a new one. After that, I had a great idea about using a green magic-marker to color in all the letter "O"s and number "0"s. Ta-da! Polka dots. I gave it to Desmond to look at but he lost it. Oh well, it's okay. I'm not mad about it because I know there will always be new polka dots to color or notice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27056574-115129531857073179?l=rubmebuddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rubmebuddy.blogspot.com/feeds/115129531857073179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27056574&amp;postID=115129531857073179' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27056574/posts/default/115129531857073179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27056574/posts/default/115129531857073179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rubmebuddy.blogspot.com/2006/06/i-was-thinking-about-parties-and-funny.html' title=''/><author><name>mickey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15131962616139293941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/283/2841/1600/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27056574.post-114973030395455295</id><published>2006-06-07T17:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-07T18:43:26.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's so crazy how pretty some dreams are. The thing that makes dreams so good is that what's in them can be even prettier than anything from real life! Most people I know don't want to talk to me about which dreams they like, but I always remember which ones are my favorite. Some dreams are hard to explain or remember all the way. If you have a dream about going to an old-timey kitchen in a castle, you might forget who you met there because you're so excited about all the food you get to eat. I like dreams about heaven, waterfalls, cupcakes, adventures, windows, sparkly tunnels, puppies, birds, talking ponies, fish, rabbits, laughing, and snow. Sometimes I dream about friends or dancers and just when everything is perfect I accidently wake up. I hate it when I do that because usually the dream is over and I'm just laying there by myself. Unless it's a pretend wake-up that's in my dream. Those are crazy. When I have an especially pretty dream I always want to tell my friend Roy, but he's usually still asleep when I call. I start telling him about the teeny-tiny plants or a cloud mountain and he's like, "what?". I try to explain, but he thinks I'm talking about some Chinese person or something. I don't know. I thought he always slept-in so late because he likes dreaming like me, but he says he doesn't even remember them. Weird. I don't think I could live without dreaming, even if my life was like living in a movie, because that's what it's like in my dreams anyway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27056574-114973030395455295?l=rubmebuddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rubmebuddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114973030395455295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27056574&amp;postID=114973030395455295' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27056574/posts/default/114973030395455295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27056574/posts/default/114973030395455295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rubmebuddy.blogspot.com/2006/06/its-so-crazy-how-pretty-some-dreams.html' title=''/><author><name>mickey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15131962616139293941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/283/2841/1600/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27056574.post-114884958514256408</id><published>2006-05-28T12:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-28T13:55:30.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Girls are so pretty! When I see them outside on the street and inside on the TV, I wish I could ask them, "How did you get like that?", because I can barely believe it. My friends say that it's mostly the clothes and all the makeup they wear. They like to talk all about the fancy dresses and shoes they have and how much money they cost. The pretty girls who get to be on TV always have special jewelry and things you can only buy if you're as rich as a millionaire. I guess if you're pretty enough you get to be rich too. Lucky. My friend Amanda is very pretty and smart. She likes to talk to me about all kinds of things, like how much she likes animals and pretzels. She says I'm a good listener, which I like because it seems like a nice thing to say and a good thing to be, but I don't know. Once she told me all about her favorite monkeys, but all I could think about was kissing and what it'd be like. I guess most people don't think about kissing a good listener very much. I mean, they mostly think about what they want to talk about. It's okay. Pretty girls are nice to listen to and think about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27056574-114884958514256408?l=rubmebuddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rubmebuddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114884958514256408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27056574&amp;postID=114884958514256408' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27056574/posts/default/114884958514256408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27056574/posts/default/114884958514256408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rubmebuddy.blogspot.com/2006/05/girls-are-so-pretty-when-i-see-them.html' title=''/><author><name>mickey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15131962616139293941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/283/2841/1600/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27056574.post-114610379585977261</id><published>2006-04-26T18:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-26T19:09:55.866-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>You know what's really pretty? Music. I think music is so great. Whenever I sit in my room or ride in a car, I always ask if we can listen to music. My friend Ricky said he only likes country music. He thinks it's better for driving and listening to. "That's crazy" I said, because I like all kinds of music. I think everybody should like all the different kinds of music that's out there. I mean, there are so many CDs. I like country music too, but other kinds of songs can be good. Some music is really soft and slow. Some music is fast. I like Ray Charles because it reminds me of old timey people from the movie that he was in with Jamie Fox. I like pretty much all the music from movies. Movies are expensive and confusing, but the music they play in them reminds me of pretty things and old timey places. The good thing about listening to all different kind of music is that they all have different lyrics, and when you listen it's like poetry, which is pretty. Love songs are especially pretty. Usually there's a boy or girl who needs to see somebody they like. They sing about hugging and kissing and dancing together because they're so in love. I really want to write a love song but nobody likes me. I'd like just about anyone if they liked me, but I know that I can't plan it out. It's nice think about though. Music is good to wish to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27056574-114610379585977261?l=rubmebuddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rubmebuddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114610379585977261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27056574&amp;postID=114610379585977261' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27056574/posts/default/114610379585977261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27056574/posts/default/114610379585977261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rubmebuddy.blogspot.com/2006/04/you-know-whats-really-pretty-music.html' title=''/><author><name>mickey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15131962616139293941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/283/2841/1600/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
