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  <title>how was i to know she was underage?</title>
  <subtitle>mister harold s dingle.</subtitle>
  <author>
    <name>mister harold s dingle.</name>
  </author>
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  <updated>2008-02-13T00:58:14Z</updated>
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    <id>urn:lj:scribbld.com:atom1:creepy:1696</id>
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    <title>12 June 1997</title>
    <published>2008-02-13T00:58:14Z</published>
    <updated>2008-02-13T00:58:14Z</updated>
    <content type="html">LAST PERSON IN THE MOTHERFUCKING GAME, THAT'S RIGHT! GO HAROLD DINGLE! I ALWAYS KNEW YOU WERE A CHAMP!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That said, it's time to get down to studying. If you hear the lovely tones of a flute coming from Slytherin, you should know that it's coming from yours truly. But before I commence to studying, I think that I should celebrate with a bit of a pick-me-up. Who's in?</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:scribbld.com:atom1:creepy:1326</id>
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    <title>1 June 1997 [filtered to students]</title>
    <published>2008-02-01T21:45:47Z</published>
    <updated>2008-02-01T21:45:47Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Who's excited for dodgeball? I'm excited for dodgeball! At first I wasn't going to play, since I thought it would be a good opportunity to stretch my legs when it comes to practicing medicine, but then I realised that I would be denying the great Team Slytherclaw the experience of having my well-practiced aim on a team. Why, I'm the star of the water polo team! I can't go around hiding my talents! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if anyone is in need of a quick pick-me-up before or after the match, I happen to have the proper contacts to make that sort of thing a reality.</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:scribbld.com:atom1:creepy:1232</id>
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    <title>26 may 1997</title>
    <published>2008-01-26T06:46:47Z</published>
    <updated>2008-01-26T06:46:47Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Greengrass. Macmillan. How did the herbal remedies work out for you?</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:scribbld.com:atom1:creepy:932</id>
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    <title>16 may!</title>
    <published>2008-01-16T23:19:33Z</published>
    <updated>2008-01-16T23:19:33Z</updated>
    <content type="html">You know what I want? Flan. God, what I wouldn't do for some flan. I can't even remember the last time I had it, which is really saying something because I keep a very close eye on everything edible that enters my body. I probably shouldn't be eating flan anyway, though - I've got cycling to think about, and it would be awful if I couldn't fit into my bike shorts because I splurged on some &lt;i&gt;flan&lt;/i&gt;. So, in the end, I think I'll have to go without the flan. A sad realisation, indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, right. I guess I should say something. I bet Dumbledore liked flan?</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:scribbld.com:atom1:creepy:557</id>
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    <title>11 May.</title>
    <published>2008-01-12T04:47:56Z</published>
    <updated>2008-01-12T04:47:56Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Really? Seriously? Is this a JOKE? I don my &lt;u&gt;best scarf&lt;/u&gt; and what do I get? I get SHOT AT! By an overly patriotic loud mouth! I HAVE NEVER DONE ANYTHING TO YOU, WAYNE HOPKINS. AND WHAT DO I GET? WHAT DO I GET?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THAT SCARF COST ME? DO YOU? &lt;i&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;DO YOU?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt;</content>
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