<?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-16597927</id><updated>2011-07-29T06:17:12.545+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Palliative Drug Blog</title><subtitle type='html'>For the soul, the mind &amp; the body who needs something ridiculous to read, laugh, make fun of and comment on.

For the blogger who has so much nonsense, lame'ness and crap to release to the world.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>254</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-1163111275778850212</id><published>2010-02-24T21:46:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-05T08:28:21.809+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Moving Blog!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a super long time since I last blogged. And the last was in November! WTF!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear that i always thot of something to talk abt, but then when i get home. I totally found something else to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywayz, I was unable to access to all my comments that you have left me (if you have left anything)....... becuz this farked up Haloscan comment thingy made it so damn inconvenient for me to access to the comments. FARK HALOSCAN, YOU HEAR ME?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i'm moving my blog to &lt;a href="mailto:palliativedrug@wordpress.com"&gt;palliativedrug.wordpress.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;see you there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*beams*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-1163111275778850212?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/1163111275778850212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=1163111275778850212' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/1163111275778850212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/1163111275778850212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2010/02/moving-blog-its-been-super-long-time.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-7953801088955374042</id><published>2009-11-23T11:11:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T12:04:29.438+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;My Fear of Dolls&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp;&lt;br /&gt;The Disappearing Hamster&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some time back, Annur &amp;amp; I got into this msn conversation of Dolls.  It was becuz she put a friggin scary doll pic on her msn profile.  Part of our conversation went like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Gni says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; tat msn profile pic is downright creepy... *hides profile  panel*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;annur says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt; really???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt; mine???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Gni  says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; YES!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; creepy!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;annur says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt; why, its barbie doll in veil  la&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Gni says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; hv i ever told you that i have NEVER played with dolls even  when i was a kid?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;annur says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt; why???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt; i love dolls!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Gni  says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; becuz i KNOW that they will wake up &amp;amp; walk abt in the middle of  the night!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; my mother also told me tat as a toddler, i hated dolls.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;annur  says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt; wow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt; such paranoia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt; so you never have any dolls ever?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Gni  says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; they used to buy barbie dolls... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; i'll play with it... then i'll  stare at the faces...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; and it blinked back at me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dun laugh.  It really did blink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was actually something which I had forgotten becuz it's been a LONG LONG LOOOOOOOONG time ago since i last played or owned a doll.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno if Alvin still rmbr'ed this, but we used to be terrified of dolls - all sorts of dolls, even Barbie (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;who's chio &amp;amp; sexy&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Gni says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; so at night, before i sleep, i  will lock them up in the playroom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; so they can't walk out of the  room&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;annur says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt; wow.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt; i dont know what to say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt; I soak my  barbie dolls in a pail of water imagining them swimming in a pool. i think my  dolls are more afraid of me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Gni says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; ROFL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; maybe you already killed  them before they could walk abt to scare you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; seriously....... dolls walk  around at night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; and they blink when they know it's only YOU looking at  them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;annur says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt; whattttt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt; no such thing laaaaa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt; they cant be as  bad as dentists&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt; im so sure of that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Gni says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; LOL!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so now we know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gni is terrified of dolls for obvious &amp;amp; real reasons.  And Annur is more terrified of dentists than walking dolls in the night.  Such a brave kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bad experience with dolls started when I saw them moving in the middle of the night.  They looked lost &amp;amp; seemed to be searching for something.  Me &amp;amp; Alvin were sharing a room when we were young.  And I knew he saw them moving too.  He always managed to see 'shadows' and 'blurry visions of human forms', so I'm sure he saw the moving dolls.  But we both remained very very still &amp;amp; pretended to be asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After tat, we never really played with dolls anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Few nights later after my msn conversation with Annur, I was lying in bed and suddenly I rmbr'ed another weird incident.  Occasionally this incident would also spark my curiousity becuz I never had the answer to this, so if you can manage to think of a logical explanation, please leave a comment.  This is what happened:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in secondary school, I had a female creamy brown-white hamster (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;well, actually i had like 8 hamsters, but Gina killed like 6-7 of them&lt;/span&gt;).  I put my little hamster in the balcony, trapped in a cage with a cute little running wheel &amp;amp; a small cosy hamster house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One afternoon, I came back from school &amp;amp; went to check on my hamster, but it was gone from the cage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I opened the latch of the cage &amp;amp; reached my hand in to open the roof of the hamster house.  Nothing.  No Hammy.  So I thot tat a family member had taken Hammy out of the cage to play with it, so I went into the house to look.  But nobody was at home.  Then I thot that maybe Hammy escaped from the cage.  But then I rmbr'ed that I had to open the latch when I reached in to open the roof of the hamster house, so she couldn't have Prison Break'ed her way out of there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did Hammy die &amp;amp; my family buried her?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But still, I did a quick search around the house to see if Hammy was running around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then when I returned to the balcony, I glanced over at the cage......................... AND HAMMY WAS INSIDE!!!  She was right in the centre of the cage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when I got to the cage, she was curled up in a ball, her eyes were closed &amp;amp; her ears were standing.  Something didn't look right.  I poked her a bit &amp;amp; she rolled over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(O_O) .......... HAMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was gone.  I buried her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the thing that really bugged me was.......... where the hell was she when I returned home from school?  The cage was not a complicated thing where the hamster could hide in secret corners.  It's just a small rectangular cage.  How could I not see Hammy in the cage??  And the latch of the cage was closed, so this means that Hammy couldn't get out of the cage.  But let's say the latch was opened &amp;amp; Hammy got out.  But how did she manage to climb back in &amp;amp; die?  Even if she managed to climb back in, why would she want to do tat??  why would she climb back into her prison &amp;amp; die in the middle of it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I CAN'T FIGURE IT OUT!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been more than 20 years, but occasionally I would still think of this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HAVE TO SOLVE IT!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What exactly happened to Hammy??????????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/16597927-7953801088955374042?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/7953801088955374042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=7953801088955374042' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/7953801088955374042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/7953801088955374042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-fear-of-dolls-disappearing-hamster.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-4838188290684500916</id><published>2009-10-07T17:27:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T17:43:11.204+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;HELP ME AGAIN!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;(i'm being serious this time)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desperately need to buy a few dresses to attend a few wedding dinners.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why people want to hold wedding dinner??? Now I have a big problem. Most of the dresses are tubes. I hate wearing tubes becuz:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I'm skinny.&lt;br /&gt;2) Tubes are for girls w huge breasts.&lt;br /&gt;3) Whenever I wear tubes, these weird flesh at my armpit area starts to bulge out. Basically I'm a skinny girl with fat armpits. &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Why? I dunno. Somebody pls help me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only ways to rectify this problem with tubes are to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Eat till I explode, but I probably still will remain skinny. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Damn these skinny genes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Get breasts implants.&lt;br /&gt;3) Get liposuction performed on my fat armpits &amp;amp; transfer the fats to my boobs.&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; hey.. that's actually a good idea!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HELP HELP!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should I go to Far East? Wisma? Ion Orchard?? Vivocity? Suntec?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*ponders*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which places will contain the most stores that carry these kind of dresses?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Serve me right for not shopping like other girls... now I'm stuck in a situation. At the very least, I need to find a nice dress by 17 Oct!!! Becuz that's when Alvin &amp;amp; Cat take their indoor wedding photos... and our whole family will be there for a Family Photo! =D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That bf of mine is invited to the shoot too. But what if we break up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(can hear ND going, "SIAO AH")...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watever lah... the most I will cut out a photo of my new bf's face &amp;amp; paste over his face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why dun I have any nice dresses for weddings &amp;amp; photo shoots?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*gloom*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-4838188290684500916?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/4838188290684500916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=4838188290684500916' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/4838188290684500916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/4838188290684500916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/10/help-me-again-im-being-serious-this.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-5259852344102146969</id><published>2009-10-06T11:22:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T12:52:46.360+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;HELP HELP!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm too lazy to post up pictures from my birthday. Maybe next time. I got photos from my workplace, my bf &amp;amp; his mother, my family... =D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which reminds me that while out celebrating with my family, an auntie thot that I was only 20. *beams with joy*!!! YOU HEAR THAT, GINA?! She recognized ME as you. hehehehehe... *gloats for a little bit more*...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the truth is.... I'm officially OLD now! HELP!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another 10 more years &amp;amp; I'll be........................................ (O_O") !!! How will I look like when I'm 40??????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*imagines*....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HORRORS!!! How come I still look like I'm 20???? IMPOSSIBLE!!!  Ok, I shall confess to mummy that I really did go for Botox!  Becuz I'm now the oldest, shortest &amp;amp; skinniest sibling, so at least I must look the youngest!  &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;if you have read my previous blog posts, you will know what i'm talking abt....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wait a min... logically, I'm no longer the skinniest sibling becuz I now weigh 45kg.  Gina weighs the same as me &amp;amp; she's 2cm taller than me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;*yes!*&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually if you really think about it, I might already have 1 leg in the coffin. What if I only live till 60? Now it means I'm already halfway there... which now makes me wonder... what if I was accidentally buried alive in a coffin?  Would I eventually die from lack of oxygen... or would i die from fear first?  or would bugs devour my flesh while I'm still alive???  tat's like... ... slow death sia...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm so bored, I shall watch the 1st episode of Flash Forward which I had recorded.  NEW SERIES SHOWING ON EVERY SUNDAY, 10PM ON CHANNEL 5!!!!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I also cheong'ed finish the episodes for Fringe.  I have been keeping them for a really really &lt;s&gt;boring&lt;/s&gt; relaxing day like today where I had taken leave on my birthday.  Fringe is damn interesting!  But.... why are the actors unattractive + corny in their acting?  THEY RUINED THE WHOLE ENCHANTMENT FOR FRINGE!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Daddy has the whole season 2 for Psyche.  It's super funny!  The actors are a natural in a comedic way.  love it.  My bf doesn't watch english series, but watches this.  That's how funny it is.  Why my bf so so chee-na-biang... ... only like to watch cantonese series.  Must force him to watch Lost V with me, so that we can feel lost together.  I dunno why Lost has so many confusing &amp;amp; mysterious turning points, but I still watch it frustratingly every week.  WHY?  WHY???????????????  Is it becuz I must know what is the ending?  What is time travel?  Why the island can move?  What's so special about the Lost people?  AM I REALLY THAT KAYPOH?!?!?!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;sigh... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;farewell my 20s...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-5259852344102146969?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/5259852344102146969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=5259852344102146969' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/5259852344102146969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/5259852344102146969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/10/help-help-im-so-bored.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-468725608618988725</id><published>2009-09-25T14:01:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T15:21:13.179+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Random Things I Learnt in Life (Part I)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got another fan/hate email.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*gloom*.... they wonder if i'm a sick vulgar bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can strangers (&lt;em&gt;or maybe it's one of my friends... *gasp*&lt;/em&gt;) say such hurtful demeaning things to me.... ....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate to receive this kind of mails... becuz that means that I have to correct them and tell them to go read Xiaxue's blog and know that SHE is the sick vulgar bitch, NOT ME!!!! so dun put me in the same category as her lor...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*more gloom*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*dark clouds gather around my head*.... ... ... becuz i'm not a sick vulgar bitch.  i'm just a girl who likes to dig her nose &amp;amp; put her 'pi3 sai4' (&lt;em&gt;nose dirt&lt;/em&gt;) into her bf's nose and fart smelly gas out from her asshole for the surrounding ppl to enjoy (&lt;em&gt;good things must share&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*UNLEASH THE SILENT KILLERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i'm actually many levels higher than a normal sick vulgar bitch.  From this, I learnt that ppl always underestimate my abilities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But in order to keep my promise of blogging about more serious stuff due to me turning 30, I shall now take you on a little excursion on my childhood / growing up days to show you what I have learnt...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During my Toddler to Child years, I'm &lt;s&gt;quite&lt;/s&gt; extremely sure (&lt;em&gt;chop &amp;amp; guarantee&lt;/em&gt;) that me &amp;amp; Alvin learnt the word - FARK - from daddy becuz he's always cursing at WOMEN drivers on the road... but sometimes, it turns out to be a guy which then makes daddy curse even more becuz that guy drove like a girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really wonder if women drivers are really really THAT bad?!?! I can drive too, you know. SO DOES THAT MEAN I'M DAMN BAD AT DRIVING?!?! I think the world is just prejudice lor. I have the statistics to PROVE that MEN are worse than women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bf kenna 'bang backside' 4 times........ and 3 of times were banged by are men &amp;amp; 1 by female.  &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;err... is it me or somehow that doesn't sound right??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;... So you see?!?!?!?! Men are lousy drivers, not women! On top of that, my bf ALWAYS 'mount kerb' with the rear left tyre....... and i have only made that mistake like maybe.... 2 times in my whole entire driving history. Then my bf likes to say that men get into accidents becuz of women drivers.......... *speechless*.... if men are good drivers in the 1st place, they wouldn't be the ones getting into accidents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men are angry impatient creatures... that's why they have this complusion to drive fast &amp;amp; recklessly whenever a car in moving slowly in front of them... and THAT's what make them careless &amp;amp; get into accidents... it has absolutely NOTHING to do with women drivers... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;AGREE&lt;/span&gt;?!??!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sees a lot of hands raising up enthusiatically*... ... ... AGREE!!!... ... ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*realizes that all raised hands belong to women*....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(O_O) .............. wad da hell... ... any male supporters?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sees all the guys suddenly turn away their heads to avoid my eye contact... some look up into the sky... some check their fingernails... some pretend to fall asleep*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;shit man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;feels like old ppl / pregnant women trying to get a seat in the mrt sia.............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;watever...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por Por let me have a puff of cigarette when I was in mid-Primary school.  I rmbr her sitting on the bed with Ah Gong.  I walked into the room &amp;amp; she smiled &amp;amp; asked me if I wanted to try it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;of course i did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was born curious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;p.s: learnt to smoke from por por... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah Gong passed away when I was Primary 6.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was never closed to him becuz he's such a quiet man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During his funeral on the 1st day, I saw Ah Gong lying on a wooden bed.  I dunno why, but I cried.  It's such a sad event.  Mummy cried till her eyes looked like a goldfish in shock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw Por Por sitting at a table.  She was not smiling.  And I cried again.  I guess I was born imaginative too.  I imagined what she was feeling since Ah Gong is now gone... and she still has a good 20-40 years ahead.  Alone.  Forever. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;ok maybe not really forever becuz she has tons of children + grandchildren...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt guilty for not making the effort to talk to Ah Gong.  I felt bad for not telling him that even though we never talked to each other, he is still my Ah Gong....... and I probably loved him becuz I cried when I knew that he would be sleeping forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah Gong will never come back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the funeral days, me &amp;amp; Alvin + 2 boy cousins were having fun. (&lt;em&gt;wat the fark, i know, but we're KIDS...... cut us some slack... children were born happy&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 2 boy cousins stole their father's cigarettes and we smoked like chimneys (&lt;em&gt;goddamn we were only 12&lt;/em&gt;) and were making lots of noise in the middle of the night. The police came to tell us to quiet down. We (&lt;em&gt;the 4 brats&lt;/em&gt;) were seriously peeved.  We tried to figure out which one of the idiot neighbours was the one who complained, but failed in our quest as it might be more than 1 idiot.  Therefore, we decided to pee on toilet rolls and throw it into every window that we could reach. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; ok maybe that didn't happen &amp;amp; it was all in my imagination...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the last day of the funeral, they were going to take Ah Gong's body away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were supposed to walk behind that van tat carried his body. But I suddenly got a high fever just before we left the house. Mummy touched my forehead &amp;amp; told me to stay behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 15 mins, I was well again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was it even fever????????????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I felt guilty of not 'sending' Ah Gong 'off' on his journey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it Ah Gong dun want me to go???????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wondered if there was a hell and what would it be like. I went to Haw Par Villa before and saw the 18 levels of hell. That was traumatising!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is Ah Gong there???? Ah Gong, are you there??? or are you living in another part of hell???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I dreamt of Ah Gong in a really crowded old theatre like those in the 50s or 60s.  He was smiling &amp;amp; waving to me... it's like he's telling me that he's ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called out to him, "AH GONG AH GONG!!!!'... and ran towards him.... but too many ppl.  All these stupid ass ppl are blocking my way... I wanted to reach Ah Gong so that I can ask if he is ok!!!!  FARK ALL THESE STUPID SHITHEADS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I looked around............ He disappeared!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then i woke up feeling frustrated &amp;amp; started to analyse my dream.  Ah Gong was smiling &amp;amp; waving, so he must be ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From this day, I told myself that I would never ever take anyone for granted.  I will always make it a point to appreciate the good things that ppl do for me &amp;amp; never put emphasis on the bad stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I advanced to &lt;s&gt;sex&lt;/s&gt; sec sch (&lt;em&gt;dunno why i retyped 'sex' 4 times before getting the spelling right&lt;/em&gt;), the Lau family moved out of Tanjong Pagar to Macpherson Road.  Just a few bus-stops away, I entered into the sec sch in Sims Drive.  And I learnt my 1st Hokkien vocabulary... &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;na bey chee by&lt;/span&gt; (&lt;em&gt;damn useful when you're frustrated x 10000000&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slowly, also learnt a little bit of Hokkien (&lt;em&gt;mostly vulgar words&lt;/em&gt;) from my classmates, especially John&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I totally support vulgar words... it should be taught in school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you dun believe me, then you try it yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you're frustrated or pissed off at someone, you just scold a string of vulgarities &amp;amp; you'll actually feel much better... .... like... ... ... 50% better. &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;THAT'S A LOT OF RELIEF&lt;/span&gt;!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... better than Anger Management...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;p.s - vulgar magic will only work if the 'qi' (air) comes out from your 'tan1 tian2' (special part in the abdominal which singers use to project their singing voices)........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think Sims Drive got more Hokkien bengs than Tanjong Pagar, whereas TP got more cats having sex (&lt;em&gt;serious! 1 out of 10 times you roam around TP, you'll see 2 cats enjoying themselves... how often do you actually see animal sex when you step out of the house?!?!&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time we walk out of school, sure got ppl cursing in Hokkien underneath the void decks. Then got fights &amp;amp; arguments going on.  There was once where i heard that some students have this really funny way of 'settling' their anger.  They went into the lift and traveled to the top floor, then they pressed door close and pressed '1' to travel back down.  On their way down, they would fight in the lift until the door opened again.  Then they become good friends again.  SIBEY BO LIAO LOR.................................... it's like *punch* *scratch* *pull hair* *slap*, then when lift door opens, *hug* *kiss* *cry* *make up*.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rmbred I laughed when I heard about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truely ingenious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a more serious note, this (&lt;em&gt;strangely&lt;/em&gt;) made me to have so much respect for ppl like that.  So I learnt to vent off my anger on the spot, but after the incident is over, I dun hold a grudge for anyone.  And I'm only pissed off that the unfortunate incident happened &amp;amp; not towards the person.  I learn my life lessons in strange &amp;amp; mysterious ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a sec sch gathering at Pasir Ris Chalet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guys were in NTUC buying groceries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girls walked there to meet them &amp;amp; help them carry the bags.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Along the way, we spotted droplets of blood and made crude jokes about some girl having mensus and dripping everywhere on the sidewalk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Yueyun pointed at a pool of blood....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WAH! MENSUS CAN BLEED SO MUCH MEH?!?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, maybe someone slaughtered a live chicken? dog? cat?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few steps later....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"EH WAT IS THIS???"... Yueyun points to the ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We see a rubber looking thing on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon closer inspection, IT'S A FINGER!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ran to NTUC to get the guys &amp;amp; yelled, "WE FOUND A FINGER!!!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guys didn't believe us &amp;amp; thot that we were playing tricks on them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only John.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He so 'ba1 gua4' (&lt;em&gt;busybody&lt;/em&gt;) that he excitedly came with us to see the finger.  He took one look at the rubber thing &amp;amp; just picked it up without hesitation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"WHAT THE FARK!!! DON'T TOUCH THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"aiyaaaa... it's not a finger. it's a rubber. you dun believe you touch lah!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no farking way am i touching it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We brought the finger to NTUC (&lt;em&gt;actually it was John who held on to it&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each time he squeezed the finger, water came out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was so sure it wasn't a finger becuz got no blood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dumbass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We reached the NTUC and found the guys in the queue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John confidently walked to them and told them to touch the finger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nobody did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"eh... siao4 eh... i think it's really a finger..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"ta1 ma1 de... .... got nail shape one leh... finger lai2 ah!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"i told him it's a finger he dun believe!!!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John rebutted by placing the 'rubber thing' &amp;amp; his own finger side by side, "na2 li3 shi4 finger? ni3 kan4 zhe4 ke4 finger gen1 wo3 de finger dou1 bu4 yi1 yang4!"... (&lt;em&gt;translated: this one where got finger? you see this finger &amp;amp; my finger also dun look alike!&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ziwei finally buay tahan John and shouted at him, "ler4 siao4 ah ler4!!! ni3 de finger shi4 huo2 de, ta1 de finger shi4 si3 de mah!!! tang1 ran2 bu4 yi1 yang4!!!"... (&lt;em&gt;translated: you siao ah you!!! your finger is alive, that finger is dead one mah!!! of course not the same!!!&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John finally freaked out and threw the finger on the NTUC floor and kicked it away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It rolled underneath the ice-cream machine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(O_O)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;swee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;never in a million years would i have expected tat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bet a million dollars with me &amp;amp; i would never have guessed that John would kick the finger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would think that there might even be a possibility that he might suck on it, but never in a million years would i have guessed that he would KICK it under an ice-cream machine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Totally unexpected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On our way back to the chalet room, everybody was talking about the finger.  Then we saw some ppl holding a small bag of ice and a torchlight... looking for something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 of our male classmates walked over and asked calmly, "ni3 men2 shi4 bu4 shi4 zai4 zao3 finger?" (&lt;em&gt;translated: are you looking for finger?&lt;/em&gt;)... ... ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We led the ppl to NTUC to retrieve the finger.  And pointed underneath the ice-cream machine. They looked puzzled.............. must be wondering how the hell the finger ended up there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Learnt that due to John's implusive nature &amp;amp; the lack of the eye for details, he will now have a traumatic childhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;p.s - he felt so guilty &amp;amp; worried that he might have damaged the nerves in the finger &amp;amp; it could not be reattached to the rest of the body...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, i learnt that humans are able to react in strange ways... (&lt;em&gt;ie: to pick up a stray finger, then throw it on the floor &amp;amp; kick it underneath an ice-cream machine&lt;/em&gt;)... ... this incident actually made me even more curious on how ppl would react in certain situations.  The human mind is so complex.  If I were smarter (&lt;em&gt;or more hardworking&lt;/em&gt;), I would have also pursued Psychology like my sister.  And probably take up a job that works with psychotic ppl / rapists / incestous bastards / sadists...... then write a book on it.  Or the different kinds of pain that a human can feel between putting salt on wounds or tearing skin off its flesh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bf told me that in the past, live humans were buried in the sands with their heads sticking out of the ground.  Then the torturer would cut open their skull &amp;amp; pour mercury on their brains.  He told me that the pain would be so farking unbearable that the human would jump out of the sands.... .... ... leaving their skin behind. &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;HOW SICK IS THAT&lt;/span&gt;???? but can it be true? I have spent many nights pondering about this &amp;amp; trying to imagine if i were the one buried in the sands... could it be possible to jump out of your skin?????? &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;WHO WANTS TO VOLUNTEER AS TEST SUBJECT&lt;/span&gt;???????????????????????...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*corner of my eye, sees my bf running far far away from me*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.... chey... buay steady one....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People will sometimes realize that my stories have various versions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is not that I'm a hopeless liar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just that sometimes, ppl tell me to keep some things a secret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when I tell a story, I sometimes say that the situation happened on me... ... ... and then after some time, when I tell the same story, I say that it happened on another person.  Then when the same group of ppl hear my 2 different versions, they think that what I'm saying is a lie.  But it is not.  The situation did happen.  But the person in the story keep changing, so that I can protect the actual person's identity.  It's due to my forgetfulness that I cannot rmbr which person I used to tell my stories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From this, I learnt that lies will never stay hidden forever.  So I always stay truthful as much as I can (&lt;em&gt;unless I'm telling a story&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At times, perhaps I feel that I myself am hypocrital.  Becuz your friend told you to keep a secret, but you went ahead to tell their story to another person.  However, I tell the story is becuz the situation that happened can be a learning point for others.  And if I kept the story to myself, then others will not have a chance to relate &amp;amp; learn from it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like example 1, if I tell a person not to smoke becuz it is harmful &amp;amp; will cause cancer.  But example 2, I tell a person not to smoke becuz i have a friend who smoked and gotten cancer &amp;amp; in the end had to go thru chemotherapy &amp;amp; how he lost his hair &amp;amp; how he overcome the illness... blah blah blah.......  YOU SEE?!??!  Example 1 got no impact, right?  Example 2 super got the power to impress &amp;amp; change ppl's thinking, right?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in order to create an impact for others to understand &amp;amp; learn from the situation better, I will have to tell the story, but change the name of the person involved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therefore, whenever I hear a story, I will listen more to the underlying meaning of the story &amp;amp; the learning experience I can gain from it... ... and not put emphasis or be kaypoh about WHO went thru the situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this blog post serious enough for you??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm such a pleaser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually it's quite interesting to recall how you learn from things in life....... or is it just me?  oh well... i'll probably blog a Random Things I Learnt in Life Part II in the near future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-468725608618988725?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/468725608618988725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=468725608618988725' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/468725608618988725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/468725608618988725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/09/random-things-i-learnt-in-life-part-i-i.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-2539777895957694750</id><published>2009-09-16T18:50:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T19:03:10.524+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;GINA I LOVE TO BICKER WITH YOU!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was on my way home from work when my sister msg'ed me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Gina:  jie wat time will you reach?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Me:  around 6.30pm. why?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Gina:  we are waiting for you at food junction now... later meet here. cya.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Me:  oh ok. then i will reach at 6pm.  later after dinner, i need to buy makeup for kor's wedding.  kiss. see you later.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Gina:  but you can use my makeup if it's not too cheap for you haha!  k cya.  i mug in the meantime.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Me:  haha!  well.................... it's only becuz i dun wan to kenna your zits.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Gina:  I GOT WHAT ZITS?!  i should be more concerned with yours, can!  the big permanent resident near the tip of your mouth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Me:  HAHAHA!  it's cured, ok?!  your face so oily.  later  my face also look like kua2 li2 (&lt;em&gt;translated:  cooking wok&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Gina:  my face is not oily lor!  ahem ppl tell me i have good complexion, can!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Me:  Right........ you kw some ppl will praise your flaws becuz they wan you to keep flawing?  then when you wear something nice, they say it makes you look repulsively skinny so you'll nvr wear it again?  this is the perfect example............. '&lt;em&gt;GOOD&lt;/em&gt;' complexion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Gina:  ................... i go and jue2 jiao1 with them right now.  how dare they lie to me!  omg means you also think the same say cos i rmbr you praise my complexion!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Me:  i nvr praise your complexion.  i just said that it was better than last time.  Honest is me.  btw, you kw this conversation could be much shorter if i had just told the truth.......... which is that my makeup is more than 5yrs and i need to buy some anywayz.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gina's reaction to anything is always so funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so good to disturb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-2539777895957694750?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/2539777895957694750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=2539777895957694750' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/2539777895957694750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/2539777895957694750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/09/gina-i-love-to-bicker-with-you-i-was-on.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-6995568617988299383</id><published>2009-09-14T16:13:00.007+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T13:09:10.075+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;DADDY'S FAVORITE PHRASE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... ... ... ... ... is... ... ... ... "&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;you DUMB AH&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;?!?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381237172081101394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 303px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Sq3-sm4FilI/AAAAAAAAAyM/9ZPp1E3ZZOs/s400/pwned.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Courtesy of Gina's Samsung Omnia 2 handphone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She was taking a pic of daddy posing with the *peace* sign. It just so happened that I walked out of the kitchen. Gina thot it was funny that my face looked sad while daddy was posing like that.&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/16597927-6995568617988299383?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/6995568617988299383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=6995568617988299383' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6995568617988299383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6995568617988299383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/09/daddys-favorite-phrase.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Sq3-sm4FilI/AAAAAAAAAyM/9ZPp1E3ZZOs/s72-c/pwned.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-538299333393113033</id><published>2009-09-12T22:28:00.028+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T00:06:02.671+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Random Pictures&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHO LIKES PICTURES???!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LIKE PICTURES!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yayyyyyyyyy... i finally got the energy to post old pictures here....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*proud of myself*...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;these pictures are seriously old.... some are taken at least 9 months ago...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh well..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sorry... for now, the pictures are only going to be mostly me.  Some ppl are just shy... so i can't post their pics up here... unless i feel sadistic...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I permed my hair last 9 months......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;call me siao, but i'm just going to go crazy with pictures of it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;first time perm hair mah..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SquxkzgXPWI/AAAAAAAAAus/Ct1LIxXOSBI/s1600-h/DSC00507+%28cropped%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 211px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SquxkzgXPWI/AAAAAAAAAus/Ct1LIxXOSBI/s400/DSC00507+%28cropped%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380589425683545442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;BEFORE:  dumb ass straight black virginal hair that made me look like Zhen Zi...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SquybN5q0fI/AAAAAAAAAu0/iv_xTIt-3eg/s1600-h/DSC00560+%28edited%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 336px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SquybN5q0fI/AAAAAAAAAu0/iv_xTIt-3eg/s400/DSC00560+%28edited%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380590360481944050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;AFTER:  still looks like a dumb ass... but less dumb now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SquzHkg8H8I/AAAAAAAAAu8/9vS4SkgVtyU/s1600-h/DSC00621+%28edited%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SquzHkg8H8I/AAAAAAAAAu8/9vS4SkgVtyU/s400/DSC00621+%28edited%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380591122466480066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;... i love pubescent boys...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*mothers all grab their Primary School sons away from me*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for some strange reason, i love the way my blouse looks in this photoshop effect...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ0H-smcPI/AAAAAAAAAvE/IgjHnbaLfyY/s1600-h/DSC00605+%28edited%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 382px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ0H-smcPI/AAAAAAAAAvE/IgjHnbaLfyY/s400/DSC00605+%28edited%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380592229006340338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ1IeOgwhI/AAAAAAAAAvU/GMRa5htFxuU/s1600-h/DSC00798+%28resized%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 337px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ1IeOgwhI/AAAAAAAAAvU/GMRa5htFxuU/s400/DSC00798+%28resized%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380593336981701138" 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/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ2LvlnrJI/AAAAAAAAAvc/NVYD3v5kSxA/s1600-h/DSC00824+%28edited%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 309px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ2LvlnrJI/AAAAAAAAAvc/NVYD3v5kSxA/s400/DSC00824+%28edited%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380594492693261458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;permed hair looked better after 4 months...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SqvCaoyODKI/AAAAAAAAAx0/W0qwkZccLH4/s1600-h/DSC00969+%28resized%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SqvCaoyODKI/AAAAAAAAAx0/W0qwkZccLH4/s400/DSC00969+%28resized%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380607942704630946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alvin &amp;amp; Cat, me &amp;amp; Gina went out together for the 1st time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forgot what the place was called... it's on Emerald Road?  i think.  it's just somewhere beside Centerpoint in Orchard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ4GvAExfI/AAAAAAAAAvk/Szm6vVav68A/s1600-h/DSC01057+%28resized%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ4GvAExfI/AAAAAAAAAvk/Szm6vVav68A/s400/DSC01057+%28resized%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380596605659694578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here is a pic of Gina's chin looking as sharp as the margarita glass... *jealous*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ4kH4b5wI/AAAAAAAAAvs/cbCbSbD1dnk/s1600-h/DSC01058+%28resized%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 252px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ4kH4b5wI/AAAAAAAAAvs/cbCbSbD1dnk/s400/DSC01058+%28resized%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380597110554748674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after drinks, we proceeded to play pool... and of course, we camwhore'ed during the game...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... we all looked pregnant...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ5c8nYpOI/AAAAAAAAAv0/Zaj8Omm1igQ/s1600-h/DSC01061+%28edited%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ5c8nYpOI/AAAAAAAAAv0/Zaj8Omm1igQ/s400/DSC01061+%28edited%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380598086782985442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ5zpRs8fI/AAAAAAAAAv8/w-KL4GTdXhg/s1600-h/DSC01063+%28edited%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ5zpRs8fI/AAAAAAAAAv8/w-KL4GTdXhg/s400/DSC01063+%28edited%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380598476728758770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ6Tl0QNVI/AAAAAAAAAwE/itE_vpisniQ/s1600-h/DSC01062+%28edited%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ6Tl0QNVI/AAAAAAAAAwE/itE_vpisniQ/s400/DSC01062+%28edited%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380599025555748178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i can't be bothered to retake the photo... becuz i kw it will still look the same...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*ren4 ming4* (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;loosely translated:  accepted life&lt;/span&gt;)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is cute about this pic???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ7X7h8RjI/AAAAAAAAAwM/LlnRQTbiRcY/s1600-h/DSC01100+%28edited%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ7X7h8RjI/AAAAAAAAAwM/LlnRQTbiRcY/s400/DSC01100+%28edited%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380600199615628850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does this pic tell you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's telling you that while the dog is looking at chicks, the bitch is near the cock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's like real life sia... while the husband checks out young girls, the wife looks for other men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other pics of random'ness....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ7zT12zqI/AAAAAAAAAwU/JMkv83ciaiA/s1600-h/DSC01101+%28resized%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ7zT12zqI/AAAAAAAAAwU/JMkv83ciaiA/s400/DSC01101+%28resized%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380600669998075554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;nasty boots found in Suntec City!!!  totally weird i had to try it on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ8jETycKI/AAAAAAAAAwk/_P0UbGzNbSM/s1600-h/DSC01111+%28resized%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ8jETycKI/AAAAAAAAAwk/_P0UbGzNbSM/s400/DSC01111+%28resized%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380601490462372002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;love this colour on a cat............ reddish brown with a dark brown strip along its spine...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ8vN12zyI/AAAAAAAAAws/IyyFC7t4hI8/s1600-h/DSC01026+%28resized%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ8vN12zyI/AAAAAAAAAws/IyyFC7t4hI8/s400/DSC01026+%28resized%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380601699179613986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;... gorgeous sunflowers attacked by bees!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ8_Cl322I/AAAAAAAAAw0/-1S-n_9jZbM/s1600-h/DSC01009+%28resized%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ8_Cl322I/AAAAAAAAAw0/-1S-n_9jZbM/s400/DSC01009+%28resized%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380601971037690722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;... blood stains from my surgery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am officially a man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call me Macho Jimmy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ9gyo_4PI/AAAAAAAAAw8/ldVGKjT55CM/s1600-h/DSC01014+%28resized%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ9gyo_4PI/AAAAAAAAAw8/ldVGKjT55CM/s400/DSC01014+%28resized%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380602550871384306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;my bf left for Yemen for abt 2-3 months... i didn't send him off at the airport becuz i had to work (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wat a bad gf&lt;/span&gt;).  When i came back from work &amp;amp; went into his room, i saw this waiting on the bed for me... ... ... *speechless*... ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ-QHpMpCI/AAAAAAAAAxE/5BOhRerqNqI/s1600-h/DSC01036+%28resized%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ-QHpMpCI/AAAAAAAAAxE/5BOhRerqNqI/s400/DSC01036+%28resized%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380603363963216930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;i managed to take this while driving home on the day the twin rainbows appeared in Jurong...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's so mesmerizing i'm surprised i didn't get into an accident while taking pictures of it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ-ynrNIzI/AAAAAAAAAxM/Ne_NKSAqPOw/s1600-h/DSC01119+%28resized%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ-ynrNIzI/AAAAAAAAAxM/Ne_NKSAqPOw/s400/DSC01119+%28resized%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380603956677124914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;i love this!!!  saw this in a car...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wanted to take a rock and break the windscreen, but i was stopped by my bf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;damn him.  now i will forever crave for this cute decal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was taken last month (aug 2009).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First i had long hair...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ_a4qn5xI/AAAAAAAAAxU/9L66MJTsIso/s1600-h/DSC01266+%28resized%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 339px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ_a4qn5xI/AAAAAAAAAxU/9L66MJTsIso/s400/DSC01266+%28resized%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380604648432854802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Within seconds....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SqvAHtbD4SI/AAAAAAAAAxc/YkZ_Miwysbk/s1600-h/DSC01259+%28resized%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 354px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SqvAHtbD4SI/AAAAAAAAAxc/YkZ_Miwysbk/s400/DSC01259+%28resized%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380605418508902690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;SHORT HAIR!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;magic!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken early this month (sept 2009)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SqvBEEILc-I/AAAAAAAAAxk/uM6oPxgW-cw/s1600-h/me+%28resized%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SqvBEEILc-I/AAAAAAAAAxk/uM6oPxgW-cw/s400/me+%28resized%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380606455395873762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;me cleaning Twinkle's cage &amp;amp; Gina trying out her new Samsung Omnia 2...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;see Twinkle behind me?  adorable!  i love you Twinkle!  but your pee still stinks... maybe in future, i shd feed you only roses.  so that even your farts will smell like flowers...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last but not least...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shocking revelation!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you ready for this?!?!?!?!??!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ8F8r58rI/AAAAAAAAAwc/8UzEHwj4y_o/s1600-h/DSC01102+%28edited%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/Squ8F8r58rI/AAAAAAAAAwc/8UzEHwj4y_o/s400/DSC01102+%28edited%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380600990199837362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(O_O) !!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Batman is Singaporean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-538299333393113033?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/538299333393113033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=538299333393113033' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/538299333393113033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/538299333393113033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/09/random-pictures-who-likes-pictures-i.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SquxkzgXPWI/AAAAAAAAAus/Ct1LIxXOSBI/s72-c/DSC00507+%28cropped%29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-2145711025212853477</id><published>2009-09-07T13:18:00.012+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T10:23:52.034+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Pre&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;-Birthday Blues&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;+ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Hungry Ghost Festival 2009&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;+ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Mindless Rantings (yet again)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't believe I'm about to turn 30. THIRTY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe that's why I haven't been updating my blog for like... 5 months. *depressed from getting older every year*... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;aiya&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, heck &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;lah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;... not as if there are many readers. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;xiaxue&lt;/span&gt; or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;kenny&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;sia&lt;/span&gt;. only &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ppl&lt;/span&gt; who are very &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;bo&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;liao&lt;/span&gt; will read my blog... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;becuz&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; very &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;bo&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;liao&lt;/span&gt;. SERIOUSLY! i have been reading my past blog entries &amp;amp; i find myself so childish. blogging &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;abt&lt;/span&gt; things that i dun mean &amp;amp; things that are absolutely rubbish (which makes me wonder why would my friends keep asking me to update my blog.. dun tell me they like to read nonsense?!?!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I had written previously since year 2005 has been pure lameness. Reading back, I dun even find it funny at all. It's just one big rude abrasive &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;vulgar'ish&lt;/span&gt; piece of shit (damn i cursed again). &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;. Since &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; turning 30 in a few weeks' time, i vow to be more grownup/serious and blog only about what i have eaten or done today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Example:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Today, I finally eat the Salted Veggie Duck Soup which I had craved for since 1 month ago. It's a little dirty coffeeshop somewhere in Sin Ming. Then I went home to watch the recordings on Heroes Season 3 &amp;amp; Criminal Minds Season 4. I also recorded a few episodes on Lost Season 5, but haven't gone abt watching that. After that, i got so sleepy that i napped till about 5pm today.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wow! i feel more serious already!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;this makes me more determined to be a proper grownup. I guess I have to come up with some resolutions for my big 30... like a New Year's resolution.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) prevent aging by all means - &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;already noticed that i have '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;lao&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;3 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;ren&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;2 ban1' (old spots), wrinkles and freckles + saggy skin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) stop being vulgar - &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;stop saying &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;fark&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;cheeby&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;knn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;/bastard/shit... it's not good for my image... ...whatever that is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) stop having violent thoughts on torture &amp;amp; pain - &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;in other words, stop watching movies like Saw / Hostel / Final Destination... and stop reading books by Richard &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Laymon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) stop making sex jokes - &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;so that certain friends will change their minds about me being perverted.... ... except for those who grew up with me &amp;amp; love perverted jokes... ... i'm sorry, but Peter Pan has to grow up sooner or later.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) try to fix my biological clock -&lt;em&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;so that i will feel the urge &amp;amp; desire to have kids... no actually, i have to get over my fear of having a living thing grow inside of me. *have been traumatised ever since the movie - Alien - was screened*...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;rmbr&lt;/span&gt; family &amp;amp; friends' birthdays&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) take care of Twinkle no matter what &amp;amp; spend more time playing with him + send him for grooming becuz he looks like a vagrant now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) stop ranting continuously about useless things in my blog&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) visit &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;por&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;por&lt;/span&gt; next &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;CNY&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;i haven't seen her in 2 years!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) stop making jokes that will make ppl think that something serious is going on - &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;or maybe i should just stop joking altogether...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder how many of these resolutions am I able to accomplish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;ANYWAY.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;As it's the Hungry Ghost Festival, I'm starting to experience weird stuff &amp;amp; dreams again. It's like some kind of psychological thing. This year, I dreamt that I was involved in some kind of robbery / &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;muder&lt;/span&gt; / arson thing with this group of guys. They stole from this neighbourhood, then trapped the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;ppl&lt;/span&gt; in this wooden hut and set the whole place on fire. Then this little boy managed to find his way to the door, but this evil &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;gangbanger&lt;/span&gt; spotted him trying to escape, so he led the boy back to the fire. I could hear the boy screaming &amp;amp; crying out in pain. In the dream, I get this feeling that 'somebody' is trying to show me what happened in the past.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;AM I JUST A MORBID PERSON or is something strange really going on? however, being the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;un-superstitous&lt;/span&gt; person that i am, i still dun really believe in all these spiritual stuff. there's always a logical explanation. but then again, why do i feel scared when i watch horror movies? i guess it's the tempting fact that there MIGHT be such things around us. so i &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;hv&lt;/span&gt; come to a conclusion tat &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; a SELECTIVE &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;superstitous&lt;/span&gt; person.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I dun believe that anyone can be possessed by spirits. however, i sort of believe that some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;ppl&lt;/span&gt; can sense or see spirits (explain how i know what my friend's dead grandmother look like even though i have never seen her before &amp;amp; how i know what clothes she was buried in). BUT! i dun think that these spirits can physically harm you... unless proven otherwise. i think humans are more vicious than spirits. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; always more wary of humans.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;my bf always wonder why i dun trust him. despite him not having much activities, doesn't like to go drinking, hardly socializes with his friends except for Sunday morning football... ... i still dun trust him completely. always leaving a small portion on the fact that humans hurt humans. it's a fact. it's like once you trust a person, you lose control. and if that person betrays you, you will feel like it's over. i guess that's where the saying comes about, "never put all your eggs in one basket". this saying was probably thought of by a very cautious human being. like me! or somebody who has gone thru a once-bitten-twice-shy situation. and i know my bf is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;cheatin&lt;/span&gt; on me with Glenda &amp;amp; Isabella at work!!! he's always hanging out with them... I HATE YOU FOREVER!!! .............................. (i &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;shd&lt;/span&gt; really stop making unserious jokes that have a serious impact as stated in Resolution #10... or else everyone is going to ask me what's going on again...).&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;p.s: Glenda = Glen, Isabella = Iqbal... and both male. anywayz... HUMPH! but i still rmbr that old auntie massaged your shoulders... ANGRY! so wat if she's in her 50s?! *mental note to self: pluck his armpit hairs when i get home*... FEEL THE PAIN! (there goes Resolution #3 too)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47"&gt;gina&lt;/span&gt; is getting super studious! she just got into NUS and majoring in Psychology. finally all those insightful analysis of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48"&gt;Lau&lt;/span&gt; family's behaviors of some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49"&gt;senguine&lt;/span&gt; or psycho or some mind freak thingy, she has made herself useful by pursuing something that she's interested in. now she's so busy with her studies that she hardly bugs us with her analysis of our personalities / behaviors / characteristics. maybe some day, she'll be able to find out why i always dream of violent / gory / murderous things... like cutting ppl up, jumping down from high-rise buildings, people killing people, people hurting people, dead people, flying humans, etc etc............ &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50"&gt;YAY&lt;/span&gt;! Free psychiatric treatment!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Also.......... ALVIN IS GETTING &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51"&gt;ROM'ed&lt;/span&gt; ON 21 Sept 2009 in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52"&gt;Mandai&lt;/span&gt; Gardens!!! With Melissa!!!! (who's Melissa?)... *sees Catherine reading the name Melissa &amp;amp; almost calling Alvin to demand an explanation before she realizes that it's a lame joke &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; trying to make on her*... ... my brother getting married!!! the holy mother of all nature actually lets my unsociable hermit brother gets himself a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54"&gt;gf&lt;/span&gt;. *&lt;em&gt;sprinkles sparkling water everywhere&lt;/em&gt;*... oh, and their wedding dinner will be held in Jan next year.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still have random pictures. I'll be posting them up soon.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;p.s: i think i ranted mindlessly again (i &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_59"&gt;shd&lt;/span&gt; cancel Resolution #8). maybe change it to: Resolution 8... to blog on more light-hearted, meaningful &amp;amp; decent stuff like rainbows &amp;amp; fairies or World Peace.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now that I reach the end of my blog post, I'm wondering why ppl actually have blogs? i asked my bf if my blog is very bo liao &amp;amp; stupid cum childish. He said that ppl who blogged abt their daily activities are boring (he's so nice, right? always humoring me even though deep down inside............. I KNOW YOU WANT TO AGREE THAT I'M BO LIAO).&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But like the very 1st blog post, it's just a palliative relief. In real life, you can never be who you are unless the other person can accept you for who you are (like my bf, family, John &amp;amp; Melson... becuz they are equally sick). So it's only in my blog that I can let my imagination run free.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's like when I take a taxi, I would daydream abt me reaching behind the taxi uncle &amp;amp; strangling him. Then imagine the various ways that he would react. Would he step on the brakes? Would he hammer down even more on the accelerator? Would he lift his hands away from the steering wheel to pry my hands away from his neck?........ But DO YOU THINK i would tell the taxi uncle what I just daydreamed abt? He probably would jump out of his moving taxi to escape from me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But I did scare my bf once. I can't rmbr what it was. But he was showing me some youtube videos on the sightings of ghosts. Then after that, he went to the toilet to pee. And while he was away, I imagined what it would like to be possessed by a ghost. And out of curiousity, I waited outside the toilet for my bf. When he stepped out, I gave him this blank eerie stare &amp;amp; said something like, "wo3 deng2 ni3 hen2 jiu3 le2" (i waited so long for you). Then he was like *stunned shocked speechless*. I laughed. But he didn't think it was funny at all. He thot that after watching youtube ghost videos, i got possessed.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Speaking of this, I do rmbr that Melson can do a very very good impersonation of a female long-haired ghost sitting at the void deck. THAT was freakishly scary. That made me scream. After that, we talked abt ghosts in lifts... and somehow it led to somebody shitting inside a lift. I haven't seen Melson in so long.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Anywayz... I will post another SERIOUS blog post by end of Sept (i hope this post is serious enuff for serious readers... YES I HAVE RECEIVED COMPLAINTS FROM MOTHERS!!!  does this mean i'm famous enuff to have fans?). =D&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Time to sleep!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-2145711025212853477?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/2145711025212853477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=2145711025212853477' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/2145711025212853477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/2145711025212853477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/09/pre-birthday-blues-hungry-ghost.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-7513020222584746573</id><published>2009-04-14T13:17:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T13:44:18.554+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Poor Twinkle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mummy wants to give him away to some House Bunny person.  Apparently, she read in the papers that there's this KIND person who absolutely LOVES bunnies.  And there was a picture in the papers where this KIND person's house is FULL OF BUNNIES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;watever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if you ask me, this might not be a very KIND person at all.  If this person (let's call this KIND person, Alex) is really into bunnies, then Alex would only keep like... a few bunnies and not a whole house of bunnies.  WHO KNOWS if Alex is actually reproducing the bunnies in masses, so that he can sell to other ppl and make a profit?!  Correct or not?!?!  And with so many bunnies, surely Alex has to look after them on a full-time basis, right???  And if Alex has a regular job, then who is doing the daily cleaning of the bunny cages???  And if not cleaned daily, then where is the hygiene??????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And and... what if Alex is this guy who just wants to make baby bunnies or create some special species of bunnies??  Then Twinkle will suffer from exhaustion becuz he's super duper cute!!!  Alex will put Twinkle with a female bunny and then he will order Twinkle around, "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;FARK THAT BUNNY!!!  FARK HER NOW!!!  I COMMAND YOU TO IMPREGNATE HER!!!&lt;/span&gt;".  Then Twinkle will be like *boink boink boink boink boink* in rabbit-lightning speed.... ... and when he cums in that bunny, Alex will put him with another female bunny and order him to impregnate her as well... and then another 10-20 bunnies.  And the next day, this repeats itself again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;POOR TWINKLE!!!  First he's a virgin, then suddenly, he turns into a gigolo.  How can he take that kind of stress?!?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then my parents suggest to secretly drop him off in the zoo at the bunny farm.  How to lor?!  They wanted to sneak Twinkle in a bag... then go to the bunny farm and pretend to be interested in bunnies.... .... then *fling* Twinkle into the farm with the other bunnies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;SIAO IS IT&lt;/span&gt;?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if the bunny-caretaker takes the bunnies in for the day... and then, "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;eh?  who's this???&lt;/span&gt;".  And picks Twinkle up... then decides that this little bunny looks plump and healthy.... .... and then whack Twinkle on the head and while Twinkle is still dizzy, the bunny-caretaker feeds him to the wolves!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!??????????????????  And all these is becuz the zoo doesn't feel like taking care of an extra bunny due to economy recession!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;CANNOT&lt;/span&gt;!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  CANNOT TAKE TWINKLE TO THE ZOO!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if Twinkle is too cute to resist and the zoo decides to keep him, but what if one day he becomes old?  I bet they will all make some yummy bunny meat for the other animals in the zoo.  Why waste a good piece of bunny meat?  Yum Yum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(O_O) !!!!!!!!!!!  NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I REFUSE!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bf offered to keep Twinkle at his house, but his mother is against the idea.  She would rather Twinkle be given away as a gigolo or food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twinkle so poor thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dun mind taking care of him and loving him till he dies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*kiss*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you, Twinkle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-7513020222584746573?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/7513020222584746573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=7513020222584746573' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/7513020222584746573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/7513020222584746573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/04/poor-twinkle-mummy-wants-to-give-him.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-7687228867942913308</id><published>2009-04-10T13:34:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T14:22:15.188+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Bird Brain Humans&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to Chinatown just now to collect our Hong Kong tickets &amp;amp; his mother tagged along.  When looking for a parking lot, he wanted to park near the staircase but there were no available lots around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he wanted to park in the season parking lot which is reserved whole day even on Sunday and Public Holidays.  I didn't want to risk getting a summon, and spotted this parking lot (for the public, not season parking) which was like... 3 lots away from the 'illegal' lot which he wanted to park.  I told him about it, but he ignored me.  Then he cursed the car that was parked beside him becuz apparently the driver didn't park properly or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I spotted another public lot and told him to park there.  Then he said, "&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-style: italic;"&gt;i dun wan you all to walk so far&lt;/span&gt;".  And I was like, "&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;far meh??  it's just there&lt;/span&gt;".... ... and that was like... JUST opposite.... like only 5-10 steps (depending whether you take adult steps or baby steps) more to walk to cross the carpark street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And actually nothing was wrong until his mother had to say, "&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;SHE dun kw how to appreciate&lt;/span&gt;"... wat the fark lor?!?!  where did that come from?!?!?  I dunno how to appreciate?!?!?!  I dunno how to appreciate WHAT?!?!  exactly what I dunno how to appreciate?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, how farking big can a carpark be?  Just 5-10 steps to cross the carpark street, very far meh?!  5-10 steps VERY DAMN FAR MEH???  and excuse me... when he said, "&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;i dun wan you all to walk so far&lt;/span&gt;".... it should be translated into, "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;i dun wan MY MOTHER to walk so far&lt;/span&gt;".  And again... 5-10 steps to cross the carpark street is too much for your mother to handle??????  In that case, then why bother to bring her out and make her walk from Chinatown OG to People's Park?  Isn't that even MORE torturing for her???  And how come when we were in People's Park, she was so energetic in walking around &amp;amp; shopping for things?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And all these while, he was thinking for his mother, I was actually concerned about him.  My biggest mistake was that I was worried that he would get a summon for parking in the season parking lot.  And for some phantom reason in her own imagination, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I DUNNO HOW TO APPRECIATE HER SON&lt;/span&gt;.  I dunno how to appreciate wat, I also dunno.  And then she still dare to give me that disgusted face and tell me not to anyhow throw tantrum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(-_-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;watever lah, ok?  watever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So everyone can see the pattern now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is concerned for his mother for walking 5-10 steps more, and I'm concerned for him in getting a summon for parking in the season parking lot, but then I become the evil bitch becuz I dunno how to appreciate and becuz I throw tantrum.  And in the first place, all I said was "&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;far meh?? it's just there&lt;/span&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they all behave as if i'm the unappreciative tantrum bitch.  but really, they are the ones who are bird-brains for not seeing the whole picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;out of the blue, i'm unappreciative.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IN THE VERY FIRST PLACE, the kindness wasn't even demonstrated for ME.  it was for HIS MOTHER.  and then i was just being concerned about him getting a summon, so i directed him to a public lot which was 5-10 steps away and she called me UNAPPRECIATIVE and then showed me a disgusted face &amp;amp; told me not to throw tantrum.  then wat?  you rather your son get a summon, is it?!?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wat the fark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok lor, next time ask your son to drop you off DIRECTLY at the shopping complex while we go and look for carpark lot.  then you won't have to walk that 5-10 steps more.  i tell you what i think, i totally feel that she is just taking everybody for granted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;even with me, she said some farked up things to me before and that's becuz she didn't want to walk too far to the car.  There was this time when I was doing her a favor by driving her to work while her son was overseas.  The car was parked at the next block.  And in the morning, while walking towards the car, she said to me, "&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;actually i saw some empty parking lots just below our block yesterday, and i thought of telling you to go get the car and park below so we dun have to walk to far this morning  but then i think to myself that you sure VERY LAZY to do that, so i didn't tell you&lt;/span&gt;".  *breathes deeply*...  so i told her to wait below the block while i go get the car myself... then i will drive towards her to pick her up.  So is she APPRECIATING me?  This is totally called TAKING ADVANTAGE of me... and adding MEAN WORDS to it as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i had it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is not the 1st time she said such things to me already.  and all these while, i kept silent and never talk back to her.  i'm sick of having to stand up for myself all the time while that asshole hides in the shadows and watch the drama.  and the worst part was that he joined forces with his mother and also thought that i was in the wrong. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;watever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-7687228867942913308?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/7687228867942913308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=7687228867942913308' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/7687228867942913308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/7687228867942913308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/04/bird-brain-humans-went-to-chinatown.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-8961644545342299767</id><published>2009-04-01T11:05:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T11:49:38.356+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Top 10 (or more) List of Things&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, I dreamt that I went to get a tattoo!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EXCITEDNESS!!!  I had always wanted to get a tattoo!!!  It's like on my list of things to do before I die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Have straight shiny white teeth.&lt;br /&gt;2.  Have my spine straightened.&lt;br /&gt;3.  Maintain at least $50,000 in my bank account.&lt;br /&gt;4.  Go for double eyelid / eye uplift corrective surgery.&lt;br /&gt;5.  Get fillers to plump up my lips.&lt;br /&gt;6.  Pierce navel (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;done&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;7.  Pierce that-hard-part-of-your-ear-bone-that-starts-with-T (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;done&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;8.  Get a tattoo.&lt;br /&gt;9.  Go to gym regularly.&lt;br /&gt;10. Pluck my bf's armpit hairs until it's baby smooth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok.  These are not the only things I want to do.  I mean, there are other things like... live happily &amp;amp; blissfully for the rest of my life.  Never lift a finger to do housework forever and ever.  Space out and daydream and get paid.  Money constantly drop down from the sky and into my room's window.  Never suffer another body ache, no back pain / neck pain / shoulder pain /etc etc.  Eat anything I want &amp;amp; all the food will be processed and transformed into nutrients for my boobs.  Never have stretch marks.  Suddenly grow a brain and become super intelligent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wat the hell... the list is endless!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also wish that female human beings can just lay eggs like chickens instead of pushing out a huge screaming baby from her pussy.  DO YOU KNOW HOW PAINFUL &amp;amp; GROSS THAT IS?!?!?!?!  why can't we just lay an egg... ... maybe the size of a computer mouse... ... and then wait for it to hatch?  Then it will grow into a normal size baby.  There are so many advantages to this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  the fetus doesn't kick around in your stomach like Alien.&lt;br /&gt;2.  you won't have stretch marks becuz a computer mouse is so mini and cute.&lt;br /&gt;3.  no need for extreme pain in child birth!&lt;br /&gt;4.  the egg just leaves you alone until it's hatched (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;preferably in a week's time, so that the mother is completely re-energized to take care of the hatched baby&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;5.  once it's hatched, it's also mini-sized.  and anything that is mini-sized is cuter than a normal-sized thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I wish my parents will give up the idea of giving away Twinkle!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-8961644545342299767?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/8961644545342299767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=8961644545342299767' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8961644545342299767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8961644545342299767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/04/top-10-or-more-list-of-things-last.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-7954399582475905925</id><published>2009-03-30T13:44:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T13:47:54.199+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;FLASHER&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;super obscene leh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but somehow, it makes you want to put that banana in your mouth and bite it... it actually looks delicious... ... sweet and ripe...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*innocent smile*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SdBcaMI13jI/AAAAAAAAAbE/akg7Vsej6f8/s1600-h/flasher.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SdBcaMI13jI/AAAAAAAAAbE/akg7Vsej6f8/s400/flasher.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318852764929220146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-7954399582475905925?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/7954399582475905925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=7954399582475905925' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/7954399582475905925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/7954399582475905925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/03/flasher-super-obscene-leh.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SdBcaMI13jI/AAAAAAAAAbE/akg7Vsej6f8/s72-c/flasher.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-7773525643825803140</id><published>2009-03-30T09:29:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T09:55:29.154+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Personality Quiz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="quiztitlebox"&gt;   &lt;h4 class="quiztitle"&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogthings.com/whatcolororangeareyouquiz/" class="quiztitle"&gt;What Color Orange Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;   &lt;/div&gt;         &lt;!--&lt;h4 class="quiztitle"&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogthings.com/whatcolororangeareyouquiz/" class="quiztitle"&gt;What Color Orange Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;--&gt;  &lt;div id="displayresult"&gt;&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt; &lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt; &lt;td align="center" bg style="color:#eeeeee;"&gt; &lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt; You Are Cameo &lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/td&gt; &lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt; &lt;td bgcolor="#ffffff"&gt; &lt;center&gt; &lt;img src="http://blogthings.cachefly.net/whatcolororangeareyouquiz/cameo.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt; &lt;/center&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; You are understanding and very empathetic. It's easy for you to see where people are coming from.&lt;br /&gt;You find so much joy from other people. You're a social butterfly, and you wouldn't live any other way.    &lt;br /&gt;You don't tend to have acquaintances. Everyone is your friend.&lt;br /&gt;And all of your friends tend to be friends. You have a knack for bringing very different people together. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/td&gt; &lt;/tr&gt; &lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wat a joke.  i hate interacting with strangers.  and i definitely do NOT find joy from other people.  i know... i'm just a prude.&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="quiztitlebox"&gt;   &lt;h4 class="quiztitle"&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogthings.com/theanimalpersonalitytest/" class="quiztitle"&gt;The Animal Personality Test&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;   &lt;/div&gt;         &lt;!--&lt;h4 class="quiztitle"&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogthings.com/theanimalpersonalitytest/" class="quiztitle"&gt;The Animal Personality Test&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;--&gt;   &lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt; &lt;td align="center" bg style="color:#eeeeee;"&gt; &lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt; You Relate to Eagles and Whales &lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/td&gt; &lt;/tr&gt; &lt;tr&gt; &lt;td bgcolor="#ffffff"&gt; &lt;center&gt; &lt;img src="http://blogthings.cachefly.net/theanimalpersonalitytest/animal3.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt; &lt;/center&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; Your Power Animal: Eagle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Animal You Were in a Past Life: Whale&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are active, a challenger, and optimistic.&lt;br /&gt;Hard-working, you are always working towards a set goal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;totally not me at all.&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are totally not accurate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder why my sister likes doing these quiz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really that fun meh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-7773525643825803140?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/7773525643825803140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=7773525643825803140' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/7773525643825803140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/7773525643825803140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/03/personality-quiz-what-color-orange-are.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-6911143627881177074</id><published>2009-03-19T17:07:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T17:17:55.416+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Have You Seen Adam Lambert (update)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh my farkin god...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he IS gay...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i found pictures of him kissing another guy.... and.... it's.... with.... TONGUE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seems like the guy he is kissing is the same guy in every photo... ... could be his.... BOYFRIEND... ... ... ... ... i'm actually quite traumatized...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/ScIMPsBKvLI/AAAAAAAAAas/b08wIZHohXU/s1600-h/lambert01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/ScIMPsBKvLI/AAAAAAAAAas/b08wIZHohXU/s400/lambert01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314823973904235698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/ScIMVWl0IUI/AAAAAAAAAa0/P3mR8nwemss/s1600-h/lambert02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 369px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/ScIMVWl0IUI/AAAAAAAAAa0/P3mR8nwemss/s400/lambert02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314824071231578434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/ScIMaMudsTI/AAAAAAAAAa8/QCaaLoKOMfg/s1600-h/lambert3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/ScIMaMudsTI/AAAAAAAAAa8/QCaaLoKOMfg/s400/lambert3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314824154482848050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;URG!!!  This is SO WRONG!!!  how in the bloody world can he be gay?!!??!!??!!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adam Lambert's bf looks quite cute... in a sissy kind of way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARE CUTE GUYS REALLY ALL GAYS?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;goddamn it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe his punk rock style with makeup &amp;amp; nail polish is just a way for him to dress up like a girl... ... *gags*... ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok... no offence to gay ppl of the world... becuz i do have gay friends... ... ... but but but... ... ... ADAM LAMBERT IS GAY.  I'm sure my sister will be equally as traumatized as me.  We actually had a crush on him.  But now, he's just one of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-6911143627881177074?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/6911143627881177074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=6911143627881177074' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6911143627881177074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6911143627881177074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/03/have-you-seen-adam-lambert-update-oh-my.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/ScIMPsBKvLI/AAAAAAAAAas/b08wIZHohXU/s72-c/lambert01.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-4530383716268798036</id><published>2009-03-19T13:52:00.009+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T14:24:29.132+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Have You Seen Adam Lambert&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's one of the Top 11 Finalist on American Idol.  He has been in musical theater since 10 yrs old.  So young so talented.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/ScHezEwua4I/AAAAAAAAAaE/1NV7OYJr1KM/s1600-h/lambert01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 289px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/ScHezEwua4I/AAAAAAAAAaE/1NV7OYJr1KM/s400/lambert01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314774004306701186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually he's not that good looking...  but then...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/ScHe9oVacuI/AAAAAAAAAaM/vVCiaHMlJD8/s1600-h/lambert05.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 241px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/ScHe9oVacuI/AAAAAAAAAaM/vVCiaHMlJD8/s400/lambert05.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314774185654514402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... when he sings, he actually looks charismatic... =D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then again, there were reports saying that he's openly gay... ... ... SIAN LIAO LOR!!!  He's really gay meh????  REAAAALLLLLLY MEHHHHHHHH????  SURE MEHHHHHHHHH???  Can't be.  I refuse to believe.  Just becuz he wears makeup and black nail polish doesn't mean that he is gay.  This is punk rock fashion... but then again, what do i know... hahahaha..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is this youtube video saying that Adam Lambert is gay.  It's rather funny.  But Adam Lambert is still not a man-loving guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="265" width="320"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lRSl-hnlh60&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lRSl-hnlh60&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="265" width="320"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He can't be gay lah...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/ScHg2q_aR6I/AAAAAAAAAac/CBUF0-5tyKQ/s1600-h/lambert03.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 253px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/ScHg2q_aR6I/AAAAAAAAAac/CBUF0-5tyKQ/s400/lambert03.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314776265131706274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;where got gay lor... so manly looking....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/ScHg861bCHI/AAAAAAAAAak/UzkDaGZiYw8/s1600-h/lambert04.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 253px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/ScHg861bCHI/AAAAAAAAAak/UzkDaGZiYw8/s400/lambert04.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314776372463994994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dun look gay... that's just a costume for his musical act.  is that his real eye color????  damn super nice... why can't i have grey eyes too.... humph...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/ScHgwdhoVDI/AAAAAAAAAaU/IJxbRS-8Gsc/s1600-h/lambert02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/ScHgwdhoVDI/AAAAAAAAAaU/IJxbRS-8Gsc/s400/lambert02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314776158437921842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nope, not gay... not even when he's in an embrace with a sissy looking guy...  he's definitely NOT gay.  Adam Lambert is the one on the right... super tight ass, right???????????????????? ... (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;can practically hear my bf looking down at himself &amp;amp; saying "same same&lt;/span&gt;!")... ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... ... I even obsessively went to youtube to look for his videos... ... this guy can really sing in his high-pitch (STILL NOT GAY) yelling voice... ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="264" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZCXrygv1js0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZCXrygv1js0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="264" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="264" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/5W1bYnoIw2c&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/5W1bYnoIw2c&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="264" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... but this one last video did make me wonder if he is gay... becuz HE CAN REALLY MOVE HIS BODY SEXILY in a girly way... here it is... enjoy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(hmmm... my bf sometimes like to dance like that too... dun tell me.... he is g...ga... can't be lah)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="265" width="320"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/EBlmcak7cuA&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/EBlmcak7cuA&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="265" width="320"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-4530383716268798036?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/4530383716268798036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=4530383716268798036' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/4530383716268798036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/4530383716268798036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/03/have-you-seen-adam-lambert-hes-one-of.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/ScHezEwua4I/AAAAAAAAAaE/1NV7OYJr1KM/s72-c/lambert01.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-5886719875028387958</id><published>2009-03-16T13:17:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T13:29:02.638+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Speechless&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something has been bugging me for some time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wonder how can ppl change all of the sudden.  I know that my friend can't be so heartless.  Even if there's no more love in the relationship, I'm sure there are better ways in handling the situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wasn't like this in the past.  He really changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss my friend in the past.  Now he has become another person.  I wish that things can go back to old times, but I know that ppl can change due to environment and experiences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I feel so helpless.  I want to do something to help, but I can't say anything becuz I know that nobody will listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I know that I got no right to say anything becuz it's not my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, we quarrel.  Sometimes, we have cold war.  But at the end of the day, we know that we will still be friends.  And we will always support each other in everything we do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if something is wrong and you want to say something, but you know that the other person won't listen... ... ... ... then howwwwwwwwwwwwww??? =(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I think about what has happened, all I can say is... ... ... I'm speechless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-5886719875028387958?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/5886719875028387958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=5886719875028387958' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/5886719875028387958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/5886719875028387958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/03/speechless-something-has-been-bugging.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-7694731118683714729</id><published>2009-03-09T11:42:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T12:26:24.166+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Watchmen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me &amp;amp; bf went to watch Watchmen last Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno if it's becuz the both of us were too tired from work or is the movie super boring... ... but we practically fell asleep in the movie theater.  And the nachos that we bought were a bit 'lao hong' (stale / not crispy / out in the open for too long).  Fark Eng Wah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, judging from the poster, I thought it was going to be exciting like Superman or Spiderman or X-men... ... but the movie is totally not entertaining at all.  It's like a bunch of heroes who fallen from grace and now they are just a bunch of old fogies who engage in sordid sex and meaningless violence.  It's like a very scandalous un-superhero movie.  I dunno... ... maybe some of you might find it very exciting.  Although the movie is almost 3 hrs long &amp;amp; a way of making the customers' money worth it, but it is another way to imprison us in total boredom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr Manhattan (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the shiny blue guy with the spaced-out eyes&lt;/span&gt;) walks around nekkid and you can practically see his bird-bird in fantastic details.  He had a human gf but he despised her for growing old, so he cheated on her with a young superhero girl called Silk Spectre (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;who wears tight latex &amp;amp; honestly dun look that young &amp;amp; a little bit ah-qua&lt;/span&gt;).  What the fark lor.  What an inhuman superhero.  If he doesn't have super powers, his gf shd just cut off his ku ku.  And when he goes to war, he can transform into this giant version of himself, but then he's suddenly in the mood to wear a groin cloth.  What is the meaning of this???  You mean if he's human-size, the audience is allowed to see his bird-bird and huge droopy balls... ... but if he's King-Kong-size, then we cannot see his enlarged bird-bird, is it?  What nonsense.  I DEMAND TO SEE KING-KONG-SIZE KU KU BIRD!!!  Anyway, if you dunno what i'm talking about, then you go &amp;amp; watch the movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ozymandias (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the filthy rich guy&lt;/span&gt;) looks like he's a potential faggot.  And i suspect tat he &amp;amp; Mr Manhattan is secretly in love.  This is becuz Ozymandias ruin the world and Mr Manhattan still never kill him.  watever lah.  even though Ozy claims that he is trying to unite the whole world, but he still made use of Mr Manhanttan to build this power machine to zap &amp;amp; destroy buildings and humans.  and this Mr Manhanttan is still ok with it... and sort of agrees with wat Ozy is doing and lets him live (actually i didn't really get this part becuz i dozed off).  wat the.... *BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Comedian (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the guy who keeps wearing a smiley badge&lt;/span&gt;) loves raping women and making them pregnant then killing them in cold blood.  He kills children and shoots innocent ppl like he's playing arcade games.  Oh, did I mention that Silk Spectre is actually his bastard child with Ms Jupiter who almost got raped by The Comedian during a photoshoot &amp;amp; then married another guy in the later years, but then cheated on her husband by sleeping with The Comedian and getting pregnant with Silk Spectre?  Complicated, right?  Now that I put it this way, the movie actually sounds interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there's Nite Owl II who is balding and pudgy and has a secret lusty crush on Silk Spectre who was dating Mr Manhattan after he broke up with his aging gf.  But then he eventually get to have sex with Silk when she left Mr Manhanttan becuz she found out that he was working while having sex with her at the same time.  Dunno what I'm talking about, right?  Then you watch the movie and you will understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the only respectable superhero would be Rorschach (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the masked man&lt;/span&gt;).  He looks like this nerdy carrot-top guy who always gets bullied by his classmates... ... .. but he actually poured boiling hot oil onto a man and killed a midget while he was in jail.  But in the end, Mr Manhattan just killed him by exploding him into pieces (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;which i dunno why becuz i actually fell asleep at this part&lt;/span&gt;)... ... hmmmm... and i thought Mr Manhattan &amp;amp; Rorschach were supposed to be friends.  Roschach is like the only guy who gives a damn about the world and all the killings going on... .. ... but then Mr Manhattan killed him instead of that Ozy guy... ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can never understand this movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably too intelligent &amp;amp; classical for my viewing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-7694731118683714729?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/7694731118683714729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=7694731118683714729' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/7694731118683714729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/7694731118683714729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/03/watchmen-me-bf-went-to-watch-watchmen.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-451900431108846956</id><published>2009-02-25T11:11:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T11:32:38.954+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Investigation Services&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was browsing thru my friend's blog in Multiply when I saw this advertisement on the right side of the screen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.sk.com.sg/index.htm"&gt;http://www.sk.com.sg/index.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno exactly how legitimate the company / website is, but they seem to have lots of credentials.  But anywayz... that's not the point... the moral of the story is (after reading thru their website) that it is interesting to know that there are investigations of all sorts of things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are even some newspaper articles to indicate that this is a very lucrative business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I AM NOT PROMOTING ANY ADVERTORIAL ON THIS.  Just saying that it's something that we don't usually read.  And it's strange to know that their clients are mostly married women who wants to check up on their husbands.... and 95% of the time, their husbands get caught cheating.  omg.  95% leh!!!  You know how high that percentage is????  This really makes you wonder abt the integrity of human beings.  Are we actually able to remain faithful to ONE person for the rest of our lives??? ( &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;i kw i can... becuz Takeshi Kaneshiro kissed me &amp;amp; i rejected him becuz for some strange reason, i felt the need to be faithful to my bf even in my dreams... but what if he kissed me 2nd time?  would i relent?  hmmmm...&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, for those unwed couples yet, you can even check if your partner is worth marrying.... ... becuz they do investigations for you too.  Check his background, his social life, his spending habits... etc etc... whether he has a double life with another man... eww...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then those who have children and always dunno where their kids hang out with till late at night, you also can spy on them.  But wouldn't it be traumatising if you find out that your son has been secretly dressing up as a girl &amp;amp; standing along Changi Village?  Or your daughter has been selling drugs to underage teenagers or worse, dancing nekkid in the moonlight &amp;amp; drinking blood from animals?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anywayz... this is the discovery of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-451900431108846956?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/451900431108846956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=451900431108846956' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/451900431108846956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/451900431108846956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/02/investigation-services-i-was-browsing.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-3372055263882563464</id><published>2009-02-24T18:26:00.009+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T20:32:59.373+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;An Emotionally Frustrating Day&lt;br /&gt;+&lt;br /&gt;A Bird Theory&lt;br /&gt;+&lt;br /&gt;Other Useless Stuff&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dunno why I just feel unusually easily frustrated these past few months... well actually not really FEW MONTHS... ... it's about half a year already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Firstly, WHY MUST THE WHOLE WORLD BE AGAINST ME?!?!?!??!?!?!??!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Secondly, DOES HUMANS ACTUALLY HAVE ANY SENSE OF APPRECIATION?!?!?!?!?!?!?!  OMGF!!!!!!!!!  DO THEY?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thirdly, DON'T I DESERVE A NORMAL LIFE?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!??!??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, WHY DO BIRDS ALWAYS LIKE TO LAND ON THE AIRCON COMPRESSOR OUTSIDE MY BF'S ROOM?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!!  The frequency of this happening is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;freakishly high&lt;/span&gt;... ... everyday, birds surely will rest on the compressor without fail... either to poop / pee / hop around &amp;amp; make irritating tick-tac-tick-tac sounds with their claws / chirp out of happiness &amp;amp; probably also knowing that they are testing the patience of the humans living within the room / caw caw loudly out of horny'ness / add any other birdly behaviour / etc etc.  But today, I finally came up with a theory.  Birds probably fly at the height of the 8th storey of buildings... it is probably a comfortable height for them to fly at... ... becuz hardly any birds rest on the aircon compressor at my house which is the 12th storey.  I mean, HAVE lah... birds do rest on the compressor at my house, but NOT SO OFTEN.  And when I was living in my previous home which is the 26th storey, I think only 2 birds came to visit per year.  So I think my theory is logical... ... birds usually fly at the height of the 8th storey.  Only the more risk-taking, dare-devil birds fly higher.  Now I'm wondering if there will be any birds at my new house (The Pinnacle) which is the 35th storey... ... *ponders for a while*...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywayz... ... it's strange how I suddenly dun feel so frustrated anymore after blogging about the bird theory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it's pointless blogging about my problems at work becuz it's always a repeated issue.  And also, new problems in my own personal life is surfacing.  But it's also pointless to talk to my bf about certain issues becuz he won't listen.  I mean... He HEARS, but doesn't LISTEN... ... if you know what i mean.  Or maybe he does listen, but he is a no-action guy.  I guess he's just not into certain things and has in fact, cultivated &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Selective Hearing&lt;/span&gt;.  Sigh. Men.  If it wasn't becuz he was always making me laugh &amp;amp; making such an effort to be a good person, I would have gone out with Takeshi Kaneshiro already (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;btw, i dreamt that TK was infactuated with me even though i had a bf &amp;amp; he actually force-kissed me, but i pushed him away due to the faithfulness to my bf.  But still, wat the fark lor... it's just a dream &amp;amp; i was still in the right mind to be so damn bloody moral... i am damn good&lt;/span&gt;).  In the meantime... *kiss kiss*... ... miss my bf.  Asshole, always going overseas for his work.  HE BETTER BE GOOD OR I WILL CHOP OFF HIS DICK AND FEED IT TO THE AIRCON COMPRESSOR BIRDS!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I love soft limp fries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I know this is out of the topic &amp;amp; so weird to say this after talking about chopping of dicks, but I just felt like blogging about this becuz I'm eating MacDonalds now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love eating soft limp salty MacDonald fries.  I dun mean the 'lao hong' (stale fries) kind... but you know, I mean, even when the fries are hot &amp;amp; fresh, there will be these crispy hard fries... and then there are those hot soft limp fries.  Soft limpy fries are delicious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I have a pimple on my butt.  *feels around the area*... Oh... it's just a big grain of salt from the MacDonald fries...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;... wait a min... how did it get on my butt?!?!... ... oh well.... *licks the salt off my finger*...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;oh shit, it's a blackhead... *swallows it anyway*...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My left leg cramped up while I was driving today.  Ohhh what do you care... nobody will care about me... nobody will bother if my leg cramps up &amp;amp; i lose control of the car and crash into the road divider like that Mazda car I saw today outside Alexandra Hospital... ... yeah... .. how convenient to get into a road accident just outside a hospital... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... oh my god, i'm EVIL!  stop it Jeanie... ... it's already a sad thing for ppl to get hurt in an accident... ... ... ... ... just rmbr to wear pretty underwear... at least the paramedics won't laugh at you &amp;amp; they can concentrate better on tending to your injuries...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so full of shit today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess this is wat frustrations do to me.  It makes me start to talk nonsense... ... .. well, not entirely nonsense becuz the bird theory does make sense.  Or maybe... ... frustrations bring out some sort of sudden burst of enlightenment into my head...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I still do feel like tearing out my hair in bunches... .. but I shall refrain... ... becuz most importantly, I dun look good when I'm bald.  And also, pulling hair out in bunches will hurt my scalp really badly... . it will make me feel like I'm starring in Saw 7... or Hostel 4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;Saw 7&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jigsaw says, "I want to play a game.  Listen very carefully to the rules of this game becuz your life depends on it.  You have let frustrations take over your life.  In this game, you will pull out your own hair in bunches and bleed into the measuring cup in front of you.  Once the cup is filled to the brim, the door will open &amp;amp; you will be free.  If you fail, the device that is tied around your neck will cut into your flesh and skin your scalp alive."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-size:180%;" &gt;Hostel 4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Weird guy with pink-dyed chest hair and wearing A-cup bikini GLEEFULLY steps into the smelly cell where I am tied to a rusty chair covered with dried blood - "dum da dum da dum... my sickest fantasy... ... shd i go with the Burn-Her-Pubic-Hair-with-Blow-Torch-and-Fry-Her-Pussy torture method... or the Pull-Her-Hair-Out-In-Bunches method??... decisions decisions... ..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Me screaming, "BLOW-TORCH BLOW TORCH"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Weird guy scratches his droopy balls, "OK.  Pull hair out in bunches."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Me pleading irritatingly like all movie-torture-victims, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! PLEASE DUN HURT ME!!!!!  PLEASE!!!  DUN HURT ME!!!!!  I KNOW YOU'RE A GOOD PERSON!!!!  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;(yeah right, you FREAK... you're nothing but a freak with saggy balls!)&lt;/span&gt;  JUST LET ME GO...!!!! I PROMISE NOT TO GO TO THE POLICE!!!!  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;(of course i will... you'll be an idiot if you believe me)&lt;/span&gt; I PROMISE NOT TO TELL ANYONE!!!!  &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;(ha! the second i get out this place, i'm going to scream crazily at the top of my lungs &amp;amp; 'bao tou' (expose) all of you freaks)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  I WON'T!!!!  I PROMISE!!!!  JUST LET ME GO PLEASE!!!!  &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;(i know you won't but i just have to beg for the sake of begging)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  OR FUCK IT... ... IF YOU MUST, JUST FRY MY PUSSY!!! BURN MY 'CHEEBY MAO' (PUSSY HAIR) JUST DO IT!!!!  I HATE PUBIC HAIR ANYWAY!!!!  PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!  I NEED HAIR ON MY HEAD!!!!  I DUN WAN TO LOOK LIKE GI JANE!!!! SHE LOOKS LIKE A MAN!!!  PLEASEEEEEEEEE!!!  FUCK THE PUBES!!! JUST BURN IT!!!! BURRRNNN ITTTTTT!!!!!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of Hostel movie, watch this silly spoof of Hostel 3...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1bSP4wLfMpA&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1bSP4wLfMpA&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blogging is indeed a palliative relief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh... I feel much better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But how come the feeling of silliness is overwhelming me now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the hell did I just blog about????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(-_o)???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-3372055263882563464?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/3372055263882563464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=3372055263882563464' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/3372055263882563464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/3372055263882563464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/02/emotionally-frustrating-day-bird-theory.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-5646117620657222719</id><published>2009-02-23T17:37:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T18:34:32.774+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Weird Scary Dream&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in this abandoned shopping centre where there was a funny (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;or scary&lt;/span&gt;) thing going.  This place was cursed.  Spirits / Ghosts living in this abandoned place... the whole place is just crawling with them.  Then if any 'suay' person uses the keys to open any door in this shopping centre, then they will automatically be cursed to see ghosts unless they lock back the door which they had opened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FUNNY, RIGHT?!?!?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how come i will dream of this kind of story is totally mind-blowing &amp;amp; innovative!  no movie has ever come up with this storyline yet!! and therefore, i will patent this idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway... back to the dream... i dreamt that i wanted to test this curse to see if it was real or not.  In the dream, I was thinking to myself, "&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;really mehhhhh... unlock the door can see ghost mehhhhh... bluff one lah&lt;/span&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so me &amp;amp; someone whom i dun really rmbr who (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so let's call him Vicky&lt;/span&gt;) went to this place &amp;amp; walked around but couldn't see anything remotely scary.  So we took out these keys (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dun ask me where we got the keys becuz it's just a dream&lt;/span&gt;) and i actually... BRAVELY... stuck the key into a keyhole and turned it... ... ... ... ... ... ... the door opened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHEY... nothing wat.  Can't see anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Vicky tapped me on the shoulder and pointed at a corner with an oh-my-farkin-god expression.  I turned and looked and saw this Ju-On looking thing crawling on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wat the fark lor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i immediately turned into a chicken &amp;amp; quickly locked the door.  and immediately, the image of the ghost vanished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but in my head, the thoughts were racing like a speeding bullet, "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;just becuz i dun see it now, doesn't mean that it's not there! i saw it oh shit oh shit... can i get rid of it now? but i dun see it now... AIYAAAA... i dun see it doesn't mean that it's not there leh!  that thing is probably crawling towards my legs RIGHT NOW!!!&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so i stared at the space just in front of my legs &amp;amp; was getting prepared to feel a 'grab' on my ankles or something scary... ... but.... ... luckily nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and amidst all these scary bits, i still wanted to go toilet and pee pee.  (-_-")  but when i went into the toilet, i couldn't pee becuz i was afraid that something would reach out from the toilet bowl &amp;amp; poke /caress / stroke / or any other forms of touching my ass.  SCARY RIGHT?!?!?  like that how to pee lor!!!  s(&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;maybe in real life while i'm sleeping, i actually wanted to pee pee&lt;/span&gt;)... ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but anywayz... Vicky &amp;amp; I walked out of that abandoned shopping centre in one piece... but then, there was this platform where you have to jump down like 10-storeys high in order to leave the place... ... i was only mildly worried as i watched Vicky step off that platform and landed on the bottom ground without injuring himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i............ also stepped off the platform and dropped 10-storeys down onto the ground.  i'm telling you... ... it felt like i just had a free rollercoaster ride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... ... ... i could practically feel my phantom balls shrinking right up into my pussy &amp;amp; shrivel up in my womb... ... i can safely say that fear is not (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;tat much of&lt;/span&gt;) a factor for me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(-_-")v   &lt;--- traumatised 'V for Victory' sign&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-5646117620657222719?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/5646117620657222719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=5646117620657222719' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/5646117620657222719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/5646117620657222719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/02/weird-scary-dream-i-was-in-this.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-9119244653062589281</id><published>2009-02-23T10:46:00.009+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T17:37:39.347+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Feeling Ultra-Miserable&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My neck &amp;amp; back is super achy. It is to the point where my right ear gets blocked... I can hear myself breathing in my right ear... when I talk, there is an echo in that same stupid ear. It's damn irritating lor. This has been going on for abt 2 weeks liao. Why am I plagued with so much discomfort. And and and... every morning, I wake up feeling nauseous... ... imagine having a toothbrush at the back of your throat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On top of that, I feel that being independent is downright torture. Living with non-family members is depressing and constricted...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. i have to look for food on my own (&lt;em&gt;when my mummy used to have food ready whenever i'm hungry... I MISS MUMMY!!!&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. i get stressed out when ppl comment that i'm a 'Sleeping Beauty' becuz i sleep till late morning or if i take afternoon naps (&lt;em&gt;my own mother doesn't even bother if i lie in bed all day... ... and i feel so misunderstood becuz i haven't been sleeping well for almost a year which is making me miserable yet again&lt;/em&gt;)... and so, i reluctantly wake up early even though i know that i will feel ultra-bored becuz there is absolutely nothing to do after i wake up.. which in turn makes me feel depressed becuz i could be in my own home watching dvd with my family... which will then lead to me lying motionlessly face-down in bed &amp;amp; write the word 'bored' in mandarin repeatedly with my right index finger until i feel more bored &amp;amp; think of something else to do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. and when i complain tat i'm bored, ppl will suggest that i do something which had made me bored in the first place or will make me even more bored...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. in the end, i just wan to surround myself with the chosen ones... ... and just relax and enjoy my day... ... basking in the comfort tat i am finally doing something which i like...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. then i feel guilty for having fun while abandoning my duty... so i return back to Boredom Land and feel miserable again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sianz...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AIYA!  I KNOW YOU ALL DUN KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT LAH...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wat's the point of explaining... nobody will understand... i'm all alone in tis world... sore neck &amp;amp; back... feeling like i hv morning sickness... everyone is against me... i'm aging... i'm starting to hv wrinkles and fine lines on my face... and what's up with all these red spots on my body that looks like somebody dotted me with a red pen (&lt;em&gt;do i have AIDS??? measles?? skin disease?!?! or worse... 'lao ren ban' aka aging spots?!?!&lt;/em&gt;)... and now, when i'm complaining in my blog, i feel like ppl will think i'm siao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sulks in misery*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MISERABLE!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think i'm going into mid-life crisis...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M ALMOST 30!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHY IN THE WORLD DO I HAVE TO GROW UP?!?!?!  I wish my best friend was Tinkerbell and she can sprinkle some happy dust on me so that i can fly to Neverland.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-9119244653062589281?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/9119244653062589281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=9119244653062589281' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/9119244653062589281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/9119244653062589281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2009/02/feeling-ultra-miserable-my-neck-back-is.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-5862587550023052286</id><published>2008-12-26T08:47:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T15:55:47.519+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)"&gt;X'MAS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)"&gt; 2008&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)"&gt;+&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)"&gt;2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)"&gt; year anniversary&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;mushyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy&lt;/span&gt;!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*giggle like i &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;kenna&lt;/span&gt; mad cow disease*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess how I spent my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;X'mas&lt;/span&gt;!!! BASICALLY DOING NOTHING!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it was still &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;fun lor&lt;/span&gt;!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;X'mas&lt;/span&gt; eve, me &amp;amp; bf dressed up and went down to Clark Quay to eat at Hot Stones (&lt;em&gt;super bad choice &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;becuz&lt;/span&gt; after that we both smelled like something was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;bbq'ed&lt;/span&gt; on us&lt;/em&gt;). Then then... after eating... we walked around and watched belly dancing for a while... ... then then... we strolled around some more... and then then... we went home. We were out from 8.30pm to 10.30pm and then we decided we were bored and decided to head back home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bf had this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;fantastic&lt;/span&gt; idea of opening up a bottle of this expensive champagne to drink at home. So we were dressed shabbily with Ken-Ken cuttlefish &amp;amp; cashew nuts, drinking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Moet&lt;/span&gt; and watching lousy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt; programmes at home. But still... it was fun!!! =D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We actually took some pictures which unfortunately cannot be posted here yet (&lt;em&gt;no... it's not porno pictures&lt;/em&gt;). But maybe in the future I will post them up on the blog...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Coincidentally&lt;/span&gt; (or maybe not that coincident), Xmas is our 2nd year anniversary too! This marks the day where he somehow managed to con me into being his gf becuz i was so in the mood for the joy of giving on the day Jesus Christ was born. (^_^)v I'm such a saint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But but my bf was so sweet..... becuz after we were done with the huge bottle of Moet champagne, he actually said that since this is the 1st bottle we had together, the bottle cannot be thrown away and maybe can put some flowers in it. Then he nonchanlently just walked to the tv cabinet and placed it there... like nothing happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(O_O) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SUPER SWEET, RIGHT?!?!?!?!?!?!??!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And trust me when I say that he is totally not the kind of guy who will automatically say sweet mushy things like this. Usually, i have to beat him and bug him non-stop before he will repeat after me and say loving words. For example:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;me: can i ask you something?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(102,255,255)"&gt;bf: wat?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;me: do you have anything to say to me from the deepest most bottom'est part of your heart where you're afraid tat when you say it out loud, you will feel damn super paisey???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(102,255,255)"&gt;bf: ... *pauses for like... 1 sec*... ... .. no.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;me: REALLY DUN HAVE MEH?!?!?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(102,255,255)"&gt;bf: no ah. got nothing to say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;me: YOU MEAN YOU REALLY GOT NOTHING AT ALL TO SAY TO ME?!??!?! NOTHING SWEET AND LOVING MEHHHHHHHH?!?!?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(102,255,255)"&gt;bf: ... *pauses for 2 secs*... really dun have.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;me: FINE. *hammers him on the arm*... WHATEVER...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(102,255,255)"&gt;bf: ... ok lah ok lah. i have something to say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;me: =D !!! WHAT???????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(102,255,255)"&gt;bf: diam diam lah. (translation: keep quiet lah)... *he snickers evily while I feels more cross*...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;me: (-_-) !!!!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just this game that we're playing - How to Piss Each Other Off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually, he's the one who manages to piss me off all the time. But yesterday, it was my turn to make him pek-chek (&lt;em&gt;frustrated&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were going down to packet some dinner home (&lt;em&gt;yeah, i know. it's xmas and we are eating packet food&lt;/em&gt;) and I was telling him that my tummy feels uncomfortable and it's telling me that it wants to eat some grass (&lt;em&gt;veggies &amp;amp; fruits&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we reach the void deck...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;me: whr are we going to packet food?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(102,255,255)"&gt;bf: we go to hougang mall to buy your veggies &amp;amp; fruits first, then we go to the other coffeeshop to packet food.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;me: huh... so troublesome. then nvrmd lah. no need the veggies &amp;amp; fruits lah.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*i turn around to walk towards the coffeeshop*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(102,255,255)"&gt;bf: nvrmd lah... go and buy the veggies lah.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*he turns around again to walk towards Hougang Mall*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;me: but troublesome leh... must walk all the way there... then turn back and walk to the other side to packet food...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*i turn around yet again towards coffeeshop*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(102,255,255)"&gt;bf: you sure ah???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;me: yes lah...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*walks a few steps*...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;me: but then hor... my tummy really feeling unwell...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(102,255,255)"&gt;bf: ... then go to hougang mall and buy the veggies lah...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*he turns around AGAIN towards Hougang Mall*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;me: dun wan lah dun wan lah... very troublesome...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*i turn around towards coffeeshop*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(102,255,255)"&gt;bf: AIYO!!! *starts taking deep breathes*...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;me: *feeling gleeful tat he's getting irritated*... BUT HOR...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(102,255,255)"&gt;bf: *stops in his tracks &amp;amp; side-glance at me*... GO AND B...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;me: *interrupts*... JUST KIDDDIIINNNNNGGGGG...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*continues to walk to coffeeshop*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While bf is ordering food, i looked at a plate of kang kong being served to a table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;me: wahhhhh... kang kong looks so good...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(102,255,255)"&gt;bf: then order lah! wan or not?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;me: dun wan lah...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(102,255,255)"&gt;bf: ... ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;me: anyway nobody ever cared about my tummy feeling unwell...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(102,255,255)"&gt;bf: :-\ !!!!!!!! *getting annoyed*... go and buy the v...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;me: JUST KIDDING!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*watches bf taking deep breathes*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;me: =D !!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So childish. But life has never felt so sweet. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-5862587550023052286?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/5862587550023052286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=5862587550023052286' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/5862587550023052286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/5862587550023052286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/12/xmas-2008-2-nd-year-anniversary-so.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-8537927379227024153</id><published>2008-12-08T09:40:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T15:48:59.847+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Hari Raya Haji 2008&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;(mindless rantings... again)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's supposed to be a long weekend today becuz HRH falls on a Monday. Which is today. And I'm not going out. Why? Becuz my bf is still away in China on a biz trip &amp;amp; apparently I needed more friends who are not busy with work / other social life / bfs / gfs / etc etc...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up at 8am this morning and couldn't get back to sleep, so i decided to slap on this Honey &amp;amp; Black Sugar mask from Beauty Credit and maybe try to gain back some youth in my tired looking skin. There is no denying that i am indeed getting old and an increasingly amount of lines are appearing around my face. :-O !!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywayz... how i wish i had one of those cosmetic hi-tech machines like in The Sims 2. Where you can just stand in front of it when your mood is platinium sky-high &amp;amp; you can alter yourself into a chiobu. Instant face lift, sia...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Gina started on her internship with this company and has this crush on a superbly older guy who is like.... ... in his 40s. no shit... they have like a 20-yr age gap. but she said that he's very charming. *imagines*... maybe he looks like Andy Lau or Takeshi Kaneshiro. I really wonder exactly how charming can a 40+ year old guy look. I like older guys... not OLD guys. but Gina always expressed how $$$ is #1 in her life. So that explains a lot. :-O !!! waiting for old guys to die &amp;amp; leave her the $$$... ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night before we slept, Gina asked me how I measure my life by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought about it... and said, "measure by how happy i am". She said she measures it by how much money she has.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are definitely of different breeds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alvin went out drinking with his ex-colleagues &amp;amp; asked if i wanted to go along. If i were younger.... MUCH younger, i would have joined him. but now, i dunno why... the thought of drinking and partying in dark places with strangers &amp;amp; booming loud music that causes you to scream eveytime you want to talk... just dun appeal to me anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh fark, i AM getting older.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please God, keep me looking young.  I can feel like my eyelids are starting to hang over my eyeballs... in other words, DROOPING.... LOSING ELASTICITY...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;p.s: is tat a double eyelid crease i see?!??!  YES!!  wait.... NO!!!  i'm supposed to be single-eyelid!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss when I was 20.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did my 28th+1 birthday just pass?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE BIRTHDAYS!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-8537927379227024153?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/8537927379227024153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=8537927379227024153' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8537927379227024153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8537927379227024153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/12/hari-raya-haji-2008-mindless-rantings.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-2138382671705757068</id><published>2008-12-06T16:14:00.017+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T17:20:21.173+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Photo Log&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some random pictures from all over the place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But first!  I just went to perm my hair today... hehehehehehe....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here I am at the salon, getting it done... and those things that they use to curl your hair is super damn heavy lor.  It felt like a fat cat was sitting on my head... (O_O")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo18SD8gLI/AAAAAAAAAS0/KbgUP_QAnss/s1600-h/hair+perm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 319px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo18SD8gLI/AAAAAAAAAS0/KbgUP_QAnss/s400/hair+perm.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276589223174766770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting the perm.... ... PREDATOR STYLE...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo2XghDiUI/AAAAAAAAAS8/8W67sedZcZ8/s1600-h/hair+perm+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo2XghDiUI/AAAAAAAAAS8/8W67sedZcZ8/s400/hair+perm+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276589690911426882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While waiting for the hair to set, I read some magazines and found this funnnyyyyy!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo3kO9VmQI/AAAAAAAAATM/p_Wjz52aiN8/s1600-h/mag.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 323px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo3kO9VmQI/AAAAAAAAATM/p_Wjz52aiN8/s400/mag.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276591009048140034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... the end product...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo2pbKbkFI/AAAAAAAAATE/3RBt6-zJ5P4/s1600-h/DSC00559.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo2pbKbkFI/AAAAAAAAATE/3RBt6-zJ5P4/s400/DSC00559.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276589998712000594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NICE OR NOT?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOOK LIKE AUNTIE OR NOT!?!?!??!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TOO CURLY OR NOT?!?!??!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought it was too curly... :-(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully it will loosen up after 1 week... :-(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok... other photos...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This early morning, before i went to perm my hair, i was actually sleeping over at my bf's house (without the bf becuz he's in China having fun with prostitutes... ... JUST KIDDING).  Then woke up at 6.30 in the morning... and sent his mother to work.. then i went back home and pick my parents up for breakfast. They wanted to eat at Chinatown.  They have this delicious yong tau foo thingy... and raw fish thingy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dun ask me where... becuz i also dunno... but from where we're sitting, this was my view.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo5HrPl2iI/AAAAAAAAATU/Nt4oAKLsmHA/s1600-h/breakfast+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo5HrPl2iI/AAAAAAAAATU/Nt4oAKLsmHA/s400/breakfast+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276592717447944738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hahahaha...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anywayz....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my mother said something that made me very... what-the-fark-lor......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she was putting on this face mask sheet for me... and she said, "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;it looks like your face very big, but when put on this mask sheet, then only i realize it's actually so small becuz still got so much excess cloth&lt;/span&gt;.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;when i put this for your brother, the mask sheet not enough to cover his face&lt;/span&gt;"... ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what the............. @*#&amp;amp;$(@#&amp;amp;$(*@#...... MY FACE LOOKS VERY BIG MEH?!?!?!?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-(  mummy so evil... say my face looks big...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo6YDhUHqI/AAAAAAAAATc/C5_1j7NBnuo/s1600-h/face+mask.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo6YDhUHqI/AAAAAAAAATc/C5_1j7NBnuo/s400/face+mask.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276594098354265762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok.  watever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then my bf has been saying that he's been eyeing on some Fortuner vehicle...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but on the road, THIS totally caught my eye!  The Nissan Murano!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo7VmmhA7I/AAAAAAAAATk/_ZaL8erGY14/s1600-h/nissan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo7VmmhA7I/AAAAAAAAATk/_ZaL8erGY14/s400/nissan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276595155743343538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to a very unenjoyable wedding dinner (my bf's colleague's son's wedding)... ... we dun even know the son, but went anywayz...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then after the wedding... my makeup melted... but i still managed to take an act hiao (vain) picture...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo77GCSytI/AAAAAAAAATs/aljqHN_rWNo/s1600-h/siao.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo77GCSytI/AAAAAAAAATs/aljqHN_rWNo/s400/siao.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276595799836510930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;looks like ghost lor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;even my sister (who sleeps in the same room) gets a shock sometimes when i wake in with my black long hair and ghastly complexion and stoned empty eyes....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hahahaha..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rmbr I blogged about my eye infection previously?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well... after 1 month, it got re-infected...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo-MhIfbCI/AAAAAAAAAT0/gXjA4-s_RXU/s1600-h/eye+infect.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo-MhIfbCI/AAAAAAAAAT0/gXjA4-s_RXU/s400/eye+infect.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276598298191293474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i actually had a lot of blemishes... freckles... and... watever bad skin complexion you can think of.... but you won't see that much of it here.  :-D   Photoshop loveeeee...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH OH!!  and if you go to Hong Kong, you must search for these!!!  THEY ARE SO FARKING DELICIOUS!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo_BEoLX1I/AAAAAAAAAT8/9Vm1ZneVVvU/s1600-h/yummy+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo_BEoLX1I/AAAAAAAAAT8/9Vm1ZneVVvU/s400/yummy+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276599201072635730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo_HvF8wMI/AAAAAAAAAUE/n232nuwKfGA/s1600-h/yummy+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 355px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo_HvF8wMI/AAAAAAAAAUE/n232nuwKfGA/s400/yummy+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276599315551011010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm serious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So.  Farking.  Delicious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On 9 Nov 2008, I won 1st prize!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.  Not 4D.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I had written, directed and produced a TV skid for the company's D&amp;amp;D... ... and we WON!  1st PRIZE!!!  But then again, there were only 2 teams.  So, even if we lost, we'll still get 2nd prize.... hahahahhaa... ... but WE WON.  1st PRIZE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo_y2ZXSWI/AAAAAAAAAUM/92sEP12BO2k/s1600-h/winner.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 349px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo_y2ZXSWI/AAAAAAAAAUM/92sEP12BO2k/s400/winner.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276600056245864802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my bf shitted in his pants when he let go a fart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He totally lao sai'ed onto his shorts...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STpALBjm96I/AAAAAAAAAUU/rZwulH1eIL4/s1600-h/shit+in+pants.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STpALBjm96I/AAAAAAAAAUU/rZwulH1eIL4/s400/shit+in+pants.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276600471558485922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or it could be the mud when he played football earlier in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he likes carrying his bag like this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STpCs5PqFDI/AAAAAAAAAUc/lhsO18N_kIM/s1600-h/bf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STpCs5PqFDI/AAAAAAAAAUc/lhsO18N_kIM/s400/bf.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276603252466127922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and he likes making funny faces...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STpDYIdCoZI/AAAAAAAAAUk/xkgs0omapCk/s1600-h/bf2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STpDYIdCoZI/AAAAAAAAAUk/xkgs0omapCk/s400/bf2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276603995283169682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cute hor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well.  for some security reasons, his face cannot be shown yet.  maybe next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-2138382671705757068?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/2138382671705757068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=2138382671705757068' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/2138382671705757068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/2138382671705757068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/12/photo-log-some-random-pictures-from-all.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/STo18SD8gLI/AAAAAAAAAS0/KbgUP_QAnss/s72-c/hair+perm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-6515837269978505337</id><published>2008-12-03T19:49:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T20:23:15.093+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Why Are There So Many Idiots?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is just another ranting blog post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just so sick of idiots!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok... now i'm not even to keep them anonymous becuz they're just farking RUDE and DISRESPECTFUL and INCONSIDERATE!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I shall vent out my anger becuz of this farking idiot called FALAN.  I have actually blogged about him before &lt;a href="http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/09/rude-rude-man-i-didnt-accidentally-type.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;... and &lt;a href="http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/09/rude-rude-man-part-ii-what-there-is.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And today... it's like... RUDE RUDE MAN PART III.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't even believe that there is a 3rd sequel to this lor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bf went to China for work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bf's mother went to Vietnam for holiday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so, it leave me and my bf's cat.  And he had told me to look after the cat becuz he doesn't want to send it to a pet hotel... ... probably you will think that he is just being cheapskate, but he's not.  He wanted to send the cat to the pet hotel, but his mother suggested that i look after that fat cat... ... and since she asked me, i have no reason to reject.  I don't mind looking after the fat cat... but I mind being in the same area as that farking bastard Falan.  Ever since that last incident, I totally HATED him to the core....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... if there was ever a chance, i would piss all over him and make him lick his own pee off the floor...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok.... so anywayz...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't stay over at my bf's house all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morning I was there to feed the cat.... then afternoon i drove home... then i only came back to my bf's house after my dinner, so i can feed the cat again...  then i stayed oernight, and morning i feed the cat.. then afternoon i drove home... then i.. ... ... ok ok... you get the idea...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so basically, i wasn't in my bf's house in the afternoon, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And GUESS WHAT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the 2nd day, after my dinner, I went back to my bf's house to feed the fat cat some dinner.  And when I stepped into the toilet in my bf's room (yes, he sleeps in the master bedroom), i saw.. ... ... droplets of YELLOW pee on the toilet seat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FARKIN PISSED !!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it's not me lor.  Becuz i sit when i pee.  Plus before i left the house, i purposely dropped a piece of clean tissue into the toilet bowl, so that I will know if SOMEBODY came in to use the toilet (damn bloody innovative of me, right?!?!?!)... ... and when i saw the droplets of pee... i noticed that the tissue paper was no longer in the toilet bowl, which also means that SOMEBODY used the toilet and had flushed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DAMN ANGRY!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked closer and realized that the droplets of pee was STILL... well... WET.  So this means that he had used it not long ago.  Farker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The more I think about it, the more pissed i am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I stormed out of the room and shouted, "Falan!  You used the toilet in the room, is it?!?!  Can you go and clean it YOURSELF."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he can even turn around and ask, "clean wat?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I replied, "THE TOILET SEAT!  You left something on it and it's still WET."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he got up and cleaned it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you think this is the end of the story?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO.  IT IS NOT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noticed that my bf's boxers which I had laid neatly on the side of the bed... ... ... was NO LONGER lying neatly on the bed.  It looked like it had been swept to one side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SURELY THIS FARKER HAS BEEN LYING IN OUR BED AGAIN!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I wanted to turn on my laptop, so that I can chat with my bf on msn.  And I remembered that I had plugged out the power cable the previous night.  But... WOW... SURPRISED TO SEE THAT THE POWER CABLE WAS ACTUALLY PLUGGED IN and SOMEBODY EVEN TURNED ON THE SWITCH AND DIDN'T SWITCH OFF... so this means that my laptop has ben charging over and over and over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ASSHOLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok... then i logged online to chat with my bf who is still living his happy life in a hotel in China.  Then I told him my discoveries.... and complained and complained....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I reached for the remotes to turn on the tv in my bf's room.... .... and WOW AGAIN... SURPRISED (once again) TO SEE THAT SOMEBODY HAD ALREADY TURNED ON THE STARHUB CABLE!!!!  At first, I even tried to give Falan the benefit of the doubt that I was the one who had accidentally sat on the Starhub Cable remote control and miraculously, my round fleshy buttocks had aimed straight for the 'on' button.  So, I just reached for the TV remote control to turn it on.... .... but TRIPLE WOW (ok... cancel the triple wow becuz i'm not even surprised anymore)... ... i realized that somebody had the courtesy of pressing the ON/OFF button on the tv.  And I had to walk to the tv to press the button again to turn it on.  This totally 'chop &amp;amp; guarantee' that Falan had utilised everything in my bf's room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He came into my bf's room.  He used the laptop.  He used the toilet AND dirtied it.  He watched tv in the room.  And I'm sure he had laid his stinky body on our bed again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What kind of tenant does this?  YOU rent a room from your friend.  Then YOU take advantage of your friend by being inconsiderate and disrespectful.  And the owners of the house dun even sleep in aircon room, but you had to turn on the aircon when you sleep.  When ppl asked you to help them save electricity by not turning on the aircon, you dare to reply by saying that YOU CAN'T SLEEP WITHOUT AIRCON?!?!?!?!  What kind of bastard are you?!?!?!  Not only that, when you are sleeping in the living room, you can leave the aircon on in your room when nobody is inside!!!  Who the fark you think you are?!  You are ONLY paying $350 per month, and you can do all these things and request so many things from the owners of the house?????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He doesn't even give my bf any 'face' / respect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He even bullies my bf's mother by getting her to clean up HIS droplets of pee.  Trust me.  I know this becuz my bf's mother had indirectly said this before.  WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!?!?!  You treat her like your maid, is it?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not me.  I will never clean anyone's droplets of pee.... ... unless it's my family's pee.... or my bf's pee.  I will never allow this asshole to degrade me into his personal maid.  My bf's mother might be willing to serve him hand &amp;amp; foot... and somemore can cook &amp;amp; clean for him... and treat him to meals... ... ... but he is nothing to me, so I will make a stand on this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn bloody furious!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I already told my bf that he must not expect me to be nice to this asshole Falan.  I cannot bring myself to be polite to this guy anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-6515837269978505337?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/6515837269978505337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=6515837269978505337' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6515837269978505337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6515837269978505337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/12/why-are-there-so-many-idiots-this-is.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-4045755580413430205</id><published>2008-11-24T10:33:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T12:52:23.510+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Bargirls in Sleazy Pubs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder why some girls act like cheap sluts. Don't they have any respect for themselves &amp;amp; ppl around them?? And why must this only happen to my relationship all the time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wonder what my bf has been doing behind my back to attract all these kind of girls who likes to touch other guys (esp guys who are already attached).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, my bf brought me to a wedding dinner. And this female colleague (who can be considered to be an auntie) came over to our table. One guy praised this woman that she looked very nice in the gown. And she smiled happily. Then my bf had to open his honey-dipped lips and join in the praise by saying that she looked very nice &amp;amp; should wear that to work. And then this woman laughed loudly... .... ... ... and placed both her hands on my bf's shoulders and squeezed continuously like she's having a great time massaging him. I narrowed my eyes. Then she placed her hand on my bf's back and rubbed it all over before leaving to socialize with another table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the fark lor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both guys praised her, but she has to touch MY bf. He praised her dressing &amp;amp; she gave his shoulders &amp;amp; back a massage. If he praised her looks &amp;amp; body, is she going to give him a full body massage + 'special' service?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This woman is considered to be some high-ranking employee in the company, but she behaves like some cheap bargirl in a sleazy pub. But then again, she's in sales... ... so that explains the cheap slut behavior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I wonder why these things happen so frequently to my relationship. Is it becuz my bf is not behaving himself and that's why these girls have the habit to being physical with him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know how these things work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is how you behave with others that makes other ppl behave in a certain way with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For myself, I make it a point not to get too friendly with the males around me. Even my male best friends do not go all touchy-feely on me becuz they respect me and my bf. They know it is wrong to put their arms around me or hold my arm or laugh &amp;amp; lean on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like some guys will joke &amp;amp; tease me, but they never put their hands on me. But these same guys can joke &amp;amp; tease another girl, and they will touch that girl / put their arms around her / touch her shoulder / hold her waist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why the difference? I believe it is the signals that me &amp;amp; that other girl give out. Even other friends said that the other girl seems like an 'easy' target, so the guys are always feeling her up. I think this is just sad. If you're a girl &amp;amp; guys touch you, it doesn't mean that you're pretty &amp;amp; popular, it just means that the guys just want to get a cheap thrill out of you. and that's why I dont' see a reason to let other ppl see me in a bad light, so i choose not act like some Free-For-All kind of girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for my bf, it seems that there are a number of girls who can touch him freely &amp;amp; easily. And this makes me wonder what he has been doing behind my back. Has he been teasing girls a lot? Has he been giving out signals that he's attached, but it's also ok to flirt with him? Has he been TOO friendly with other girls? Or are these girls just so willing to thrown themselves at my bf... ... even when i'm just sitting beside him??? Then it makes me wonder... ... why these girls actually DARE to touch another girl's bf in front of the gf? Aren't they even slightly afraid that the gf might splash water on them... or slap them... or throw sarcastic remarks? And further wondering... ... could it be that my bf somehow gave them some unspoken signal that it was ok for them to do this in front of me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might be thinking too much. But this is NOT the 1st time that this kind of things have happened before my eyes. And I'm starting to doubt the whole situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And seriously, on that wedding night, both guys gave her praises... ... but she had to touch ONLY my bf and NOT the other guy. Why leh? Why is this so? And that other guy has been working with her in the company longer than my bf has, so this woman should be closer to that other guy, right? and don't tell me that within the 1 year which my bf has been in this company, he &amp;amp; this woman have gotten so close to the point of getting his shoulders &amp;amp; back rubbed in front of his gf?????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean... ppl give you praise, good lah! you happy, then happy lah! why must go and rub ppl's shoulders &amp;amp; back for wat?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;ANGRY&lt;/span&gt;!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know sometimes my bf can get a little too friendly with ppl. To give him credit, I think he might have UNintentionally AROUSED this woman somehow... ... becuz I know how he likes to tease ppl... ... male &amp;amp; female... ... taxi-drivers, waitress, aunties selling meepok, uncles selling chicken rice, etc etc... ... ... so it is also his own character that causes him to automatically have no control over himself when there is a chance to tease ppl. But I always tell him, if he teases the wrong ppl then they might get the wrong idea. And this woman proved my point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And once again, I'm quite irritated that my bf didn't do anything about it AGAIN. This is not the 1st time that ppl has done something inappropriate in front of us. Even HE AGREES that it is wrong. But he still never do anything to stop it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of you might think that I am over-reacting. This is not the issue of a woman rubbing my bf's shoulders &amp;amp; back. But it is the issue that she has got no respect for the gf who was sitting beside him. And if she can do this 1 time, then she can do it a 2nd time &amp;amp; 3rd &amp;amp; 4th... and she will continuously do this just becuz she CAN.  *feeling very cross now*... What?! You want me to watch you touch my bf, then you lagi happy, is it? Prove that my bf likes you to touch him, is it? Making me feel like I 'lose face' becuz my bf never reject your touch, is it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So farking pissed off. Stupid bitch. You so damn bloody fat &amp;amp; saggy, maybe I should go over to your husband and rub his shoulders &amp;amp; back as well. Huh? How would you like that? He probably would prefer a young girl like me to touch him instead of you. So what if you have gigantic boobs? They're just squeezed together by the fats surrounded the rest of your tubby body. Old enough to be somebody's mother &amp;amp; still behaving like a bad influence. And don't you dare give me the excuse that you're just giving my bf a FRIENDLY MOTHERLY touch, okay?! becuz I KNOW it's not motherly. Mothers don't squeeeze &amp;amp; rub their son's shoulders &amp;amp; back all over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't let me catch you doing this a 2nd time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or you will regret it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-4045755580413430205?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/4045755580413430205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=4045755580413430205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/4045755580413430205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/4045755580413430205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/11/bargirls-in-sleazy-pubs-i-wonder-why.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-7075555332272235880</id><published>2008-11-16T12:23:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T20:53:34.327+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I Like to Move It Move It&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&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;He likes to move it move it.&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;She likes to move it move it...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We like to......... MOVE IT!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;:-D !!!!!!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me &amp;amp; my bf wanted to watch Tropic Thunder, staring Ben Stiller &amp;amp; Robert Downey Jr, but the Eng Wah cinema in Suntec doesn't film it.  Bastards.  So, we watched Madagascar 2.  I thought it was really entertaining.... but the kuku bird thought that it was slightly boring.  Maybe he didn't get the jokes in the movie.  Or maybe he didn't spot the funny bits that were happening around the main cartoon characters (must be his failing eyesight due to his age).  But I still felt that the movie was ticklish.  I would recommend watching it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After the movie, we went to this one Hong Kong restaurant to eat at East Coast... ... I think it's called C. Nai or something.  John brought me there once &amp;amp; I thought it was rather nice.  So I thought of bringing that kuku bird to try out the food.  And he thought it was nice too!  However, I felt that their food was all TOO tasty.  Becuz I felt damn parched while eating their food.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then when we got back home, I got pissed off with his friend who disrespected me over &amp;amp; over again.  Although it happened like... 3-4 months back, but I will never forget the way he persistently tried to get my bf to be interested in other girls RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FACE!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If there is ever a chance of forgiving him, it will be to beat him up very badly until he dies.  Then on his dying breath, I'll tell him, "&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;i forgive you.  i forgive you for disrespecting me repeatedly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;humph.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;sad to say, my bf behaved very unreliably during that time.  he knows that what his friend did was too much, but at the same time, he's afraid of offending that asshole.  so in turn, he offends me... and i was quite hurt by this.  but after time has passed for so many months, i thought to myself that nobody is perfect.  everyone has their flaws.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;even i have my own flaws.  my flaw is that i aim for everything to be perfect, but in this perfecting process, i tend to seem very controlling &amp;amp; bad-tempered becuz i keep forcing everyone around me to be perfect.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;but don't think that i only want this perfection in others, becuz i also strive to be as perfect as i can be.  i know i have a bad temper, so i always try to control it.  and in the end, becuz i became TOO tolerant and OVERLY good-tempered, other ppl try and take advantage of me... ... until it reached my breaking point, i snap back at everyone... and everyone was like, "woah man.. wat's up with her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOTHING IS UP WITH ME!  What's up with YOU?!?!?!?!?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;so... ... ... i guess this means that nobody can ever be perfect even if you tried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&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;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-7075555332272235880?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/7075555332272235880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=7075555332272235880' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/7075555332272235880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/7075555332272235880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-like-to-move-it-move-it-he-likes-to.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-4832476811356899650</id><published>2008-10-29T21:19:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T21:53:36.927+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Mindless Outrage Rantings&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bf told me that he might not be able to come back from Yemen on Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FARKER!!!!!  Ok.... i'm not scolding him.  but i'm super furious at that asshole colleague who said that he will relieve my bf but didn't and purposely kept sending the wrong documents for the visa.... and then delay for so long until the visa got rejected &amp;amp; then gave so many farking excuses until there is no more flight tickets to go over to Yemen and relieve my bf of his stupid overseas assignment and this pisses me off!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this little farker has 2 wives (he's malay, so that explains the 2 legally married wives) and keeps giving excuses that he this and that and he has got 2 sets of families... one wife farks better than the other &amp;amp; that's why he needs to get a divorce with the wife that's not good in bed.... blah blah blah... and one million other excuses... blah blah blah....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All these useless men who only know how to fool around.... .... WHY?!??!?!  ONE WOMAN NOT ENUFF FOR YOUR ROTTEN DICK, IS IT?!?!?!  But boobs in front of them, and all men will want to squeeze.  Bastards.  In fact, i will form some kind of Men-Hating groupie &amp;amp; punish all the cheaters.  SO WHAT IF MUSLIM CUSTOM ALLOWS YOU TO HAVE MORE THAN ONE WIFE?!?!??!?!?!  This is actually an extremely selfish muslim law.  Why don't they allow women to have more than one husband?!  I ever asked this malay guy who has 2 wives if he will mind if his wife is sleeping with another man... and he said CANNOT ACCEPT.  Well, if he cannot accept then what makes him think that his wife can accept him sleeping with another women (even if THAT other woman is ALSO his wife)?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If i ever find out that any guy has been cheating on their gfs/wives, i will personally snip off their dicks with a scissors &amp;amp; mince it up then feed it to stray dogs &amp;amp; cats.  then i will track down all the girls that the cheater touched &amp;amp; disfigure them using acid + salt... and THEN i will go after the girls' families and torch them into dust just becuz they gave birth to such sluts.  it is becuz of all these unfaithful men that make me lose faith in myself &amp;amp; in all my relationships.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;omg... i can continue on with this topic...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but anywayz..... i miss my bf and i'm having PMS which is giving me severe mood swings &amp;amp; evil insecure thoughts &amp;amp; mindless outrage rantings becuz of that stupid colleague of his.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARGH!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANGRY!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-4832476811356899650?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/4832476811356899650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=4832476811356899650' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/4832476811356899650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/4832476811356899650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/10/mindless-outrage-rantings-my-bf-told-me.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-1717803997943033528</id><published>2008-10-27T19:38:00.009+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T19:57:50.642+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Eye Infection&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Warning: really disturbing pictures attached&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One Saturday morning, my left eye just wont open....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hmmmmmmmm... i wonder why....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQWogcSzq0I/AAAAAAAAAR8/kx9cd74NetI/s1600-h/DSC00380.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQWogcSzq0I/AAAAAAAAAR8/kx9cd74NetI/s400/DSC00380.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261797014956649282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;W... what's that???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's just take a closer look...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQWpByR5ttI/AAAAAAAAASE/9uxeWSEEP6I/s1600-h/DSC00381.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQWpByR5ttI/AAAAAAAAASE/9uxeWSEEP6I/s400/DSC00381.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261797587794114258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EWWWWWWWWWWWWW... there's like... yellow pus sticking the eye together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I finally got the pus-filled eye to open...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQWpzutj25I/AAAAAAAAASM/961PlPDcGwM/s1600-h/DSC00384.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 127px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQWpzutj25I/AAAAAAAAASM/961PlPDcGwM/s400/DSC00384.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261798445829839762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;URGH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok... I won't blame if you're grossed out by these pictures.  Even I feel like puking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you think that the left eye is the only eye that got infected, you're wrong.  Becuz I felt something scratching my right eyeball as well.  The left eye was just MORE infected than the right.  Don't believe me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After washing out my eyes, my sister took some more pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the more infected left eye....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQWqvrqq6YI/AAAAAAAAASU/K2XY7594kQQ/s1600-h/DSC00394.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQWqvrqq6YI/AAAAAAAAASU/K2XY7594kQQ/s400/DSC00394.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261799475804563842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... oh my goodness... there is like... a colony of pus pimples in the left eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, let's look at the right eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQWrSZ8DKvI/AAAAAAAAASc/nSm45HTqOWM/s1600-h/DSC00395.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQWrSZ8DKvI/AAAAAAAAASc/nSm45HTqOWM/s400/DSC00395.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261800072341039858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;eeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww... there is this big yellow thing that contains a few small pimply thing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, let's look at both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQWrotwfsLI/AAAAAAAAASk/apfktk6qZe8/s1600-h/DSC00396.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQWrotwfsLI/AAAAAAAAASk/apfktk6qZe8/s400/DSC00396.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261800455618408626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can practically hear all of you pleading me to stop the pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WILL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dun blame you.  Even I feel sick in the tummy while I posting these pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to see the doctor early in the morning.  He gave me some eye cream &amp;amp; said that if it doesn't get better in a few days, I will have to get an operation to take these pus-filled stuff out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ewwww... but but... that was Saturday.  Now, it's Monday and my eyes are still painful whenever I blink!  That's it.  I have to go for eye facial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-1717803997943033528?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/1717803997943033528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=1717803997943033528' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/1717803997943033528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/1717803997943033528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/10/eye-infection-warning-really-disturbing.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQWogcSzq0I/AAAAAAAAAR8/kx9cd74NetI/s72-c/DSC00380.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-3252132357133380206</id><published>2008-10-25T13:52:00.009+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-25T14:24:41.893+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Random Pictures&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;+ 1 really GROSS pic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;First! Let me post up some really cute, punk-rock pictures of Twinkle!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;He is getting so so so damn adorable!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260968952603095746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQK3Y3pEMsI/AAAAAAAAARs/SetD_UfKuHo/s400/PICT0061.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;*peep peep*... hmmm i wonder what my master is doing....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260967454324570594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQK2BqHoOeI/AAAAAAAAARc/MgKU_v0brl0/s400/PICT0022.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;Twinkle grows a cute mohawk!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260967109360843314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQK1tlB3ejI/AAAAAAAAARU/GUcgVJurbp0/s400/PICT0021.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;SUPER DUPEE CUTE!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;*kiss kiss kiss*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;LOVE YOU SO MUCH, TWINKLE!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then let's see some pics from Bangkok 2008 during CNY with some friends:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260966147726504658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQK01mqX8tI/AAAAAAAAARM/wWB3NKkPTrs/s400/Bangkok+Trip+2008+-+pic03.jpg" border="0" /&gt;  &lt;div align="center"&gt;BIG thing beneath the pants... hahaha... actually it's just a waist pouch.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260965996487362738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQK0szQJyLI/AAAAAAAAARE/DlqzYNn2kYs/s400/Bangkok+Trip+2008+-+pic02.jpg" border="0" /&gt; BIG feast!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260965505949301202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQK0QP2w-dI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/28MPTPHKYME/s400/Bangkok+Trip+2008+-+pic01.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and........... BIG FAGGOTS!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok ok... now get ready for this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was happily craving for a pear.... then.... when I finally biteeeeeeeeee into the oh-so-sweet-and-juicy p... p... ..........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*looks down at the pear*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260968448541290642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQK27h3XcJI/AAAAAAAAARk/izQsYcAzYVM/s400/PICT0063.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;GROSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can see that... there is this.... WORM HOLE in the darker area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and and.... got some tiny round stuff... like....... ..... ARE THOSE WORM EGGS??!??!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*runsssssss to the bathroom to spit out the half-chewed pear in my mouth*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*brushhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh teeth furiously*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but of course.... i still had to take a picture of the rotton pear....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trust me. The pear looks BEAUTIFUL on the outside!!! But inside is a different story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then and then.... the worst of all...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DADDY CONTINUED TO EAT THE PEAR!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260971879395002210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQK6DOyoh2I/AAAAAAAAAR0/eXdDyVnNchM/s400/DSC00290.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;... and while he's eating the rotton pear, me &amp;amp; Gina were screaming, "NOOOOOOOOOO DADDY!!!!  YOU'RE GOING TO EAT THE EGGS!!!!"... but Daddy didn't care about unhatched worm babies, so he continued to eat the pear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(-_-")&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have weird family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/16597927-3252132357133380206?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/3252132357133380206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=3252132357133380206' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/3252132357133380206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/3252132357133380206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/10/random-pictures-1-really-gross-pic.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SQK3Y3pEMsI/AAAAAAAAARs/SetD_UfKuHo/s72-c/PICT0061.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-7928544069825177113</id><published>2008-10-01T14:32:00.007+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T16:05:22.876+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;My 28th + 1 Birthday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mummy, being superstitious, said that whenever there is a #9 in your birthday, you shouldn't said it.  Must not acknowledge it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus, today will be my 28th + 1 birthday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister, the evil jealous one, said to me... ... "&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;jie, in another 1 year, you are going to leave the... ... *hand signals a '2' and a '0'*...&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And at first, I looked at her in a HUH??? manner becuz I don't get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And she repeated, "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;in another 1 year, you are going to leave the......... 20s........... and enter into the 30s&lt;/span&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;(O_O")&lt;/span&gt;  !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AARRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sharp stab in the heart*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as if this isn't enough pain, she went on to say, "&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;... don't worry... .... ... .... ... in another &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;TEN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt; years, you can say the same thing back to me...&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;... yeah... in case you didn't figure out yet... ... my sister is TEN years younger than me...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said to her, "&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;when that day comes... ... i will... ... ... *laughs hysterically*... MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!  你也有今天 (direct translation: you also have this day coming)!!!&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sob.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok... whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHATEVERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this afternoon, my family &amp;amp; I went to Junction 8 for lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bf was so sweet.  Although he is 5000 miles away, he still sms'ed &amp;amp; told me to go have a good meal with my family........... and he will pay the bill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SWEETNESS!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*feels like eating his flesh now*... &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;you know that feeling you get when you see an ultra-cute baby &amp;amp; you feel like pinching the chubby cheeks mercilessly?!?!?!?!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... but it's ok... becuz i told him that when he comes back, i want an EXTRA grand meal... and an EXTRA EXTRA big birthday present (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;double eyelids that cost $4k????.. nahhh... way to expensive for Woffles Wu's magic...&lt;/span&gt;)... ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANYWAY... some pictures we took at that eating place...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SOMflSTjYII/AAAAAAAAAPw/S1REOKzlzNY/s1600-h/DSC00117.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SOMflSTjYII/AAAAAAAAAPw/S1REOKzlzNY/s400/DSC00117.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252076315873599618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Cheap-a-neh Birthday Meal from my parents...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SOMi1suJHKI/AAAAAAAAAP4/0QnUhFXJUD4/s1600-h/DSC00114.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SOMi1suJHKI/AAAAAAAAAP4/0QnUhFXJUD4/s400/DSC00114.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252079896377236642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;JAG...&lt;br /&gt;Jeanie Alvin Gina&lt;br /&gt;i think i look like a cyborg, with 1 normal eye &amp;amp; 1 shiny green-blue eye...&lt;br /&gt;Alvin looks stunned...&lt;br /&gt;Gina looked at this pic &amp;amp; said that all 3 of us look weird cuz we all hv single-eyelids....&lt;br /&gt;... i totally agree with her...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SOMkxt864fI/AAAAAAAAAQA/zCwLaU921fE/s1600-h/DSC00115.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SOMkxt864fI/AAAAAAAAAQA/zCwLaU921fE/s400/DSC00115.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252082027011432946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;my parents!!!&lt;br /&gt;daddy just wants to carry on eating...&lt;br /&gt;mummy loves taking pictures!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SOMnnTd6a5I/AAAAAAAAAQI/hO8LRCkZwWE/s1600-h/DSC00113.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SOMnnTd6a5I/AAAAAAAAAQI/hO8LRCkZwWE/s400/DSC00113.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252085146638248850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;haahaha... this is when mummy got pissed with Gina for not finishing her food becuz she kept yakking &amp;amp; yakking until the food gone cold... ... then she passed the food to daddy....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SOMoWfEAOHI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/AQgc44bjDCE/s1600-h/DSC00116.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SOMoWfEAOHI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/AQgc44bjDCE/s400/DSC00116.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252085957204654194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;EVERYONE!!!&lt;br /&gt;TRY TO MAKE IT LOOK LIKE THE FOOD IS DELICIOUS FOR PICTURE-TAKING SAKE... EVEN THOUGH WE ALL COULD NOT FINISH OUR FOOD BECUZ WHO THE HELL MIXES PINEAPPLE RICE WITH CHEESE...&lt;br /&gt;so say......&lt;br /&gt;"YUCKY CHEESE PINEAPPLY RICEEEEEYYYY!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then we came home...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I cleaned Twinkle's cage... OH MY GOD!!!  TWINKLE YOU'RE SO CUTE!!!  I LOVE YOU!!!  but mummy &amp;amp; daddy wants me to send it away... to the zoo... .... *watery eyes*... ... but but.... ... ... i don't want to!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Alvin's gf, Catherine, came to our house.... ... and she walked straight to Gina &amp;amp; said........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"Happy Birthday, Gina"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.. with a present in her hand...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother then told her that she got the wrong sister.... and Catherine looked so embarrassed... ... hahahahhaha...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... of course, i accepted the present... thank you very much for Gina's present... hehehehehe...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we all sat down and watched a super weepy movie called... &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;P.S I LOVE YOU&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SUPER SAD!!!  Me &amp;amp; Gina cried at almost every point of the movie...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Catherine weeped...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alvin just watched heartlessly... or maybe he was... CONTROLLING HIS TEARS becuz Catherine was sitting beside him...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH!!!  OH!!!  and against my better judgement, i bought a new expansion pack from The Sims2!!!  APARTMENT LIFE!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I probably won't even have time to play it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But... ... ... it's just my spur of the moment birthday pressie for myself kind of thing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to play it now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-7928544069825177113?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/7928544069825177113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=7928544069825177113' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/7928544069825177113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/7928544069825177113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-28th-1-birthday-mummy-being.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SOMflSTjYII/AAAAAAAAAPw/S1REOKzlzNY/s72-c/DSC00117.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-6529549774015097983</id><published>2008-09-29T08:53:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T09:26:45.299+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Rude Rude Man (Part II)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What?!?!?!  There is a PART II????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no no no.... beside sleeping &amp;amp; eating on the bed.... and laying his greasy head on the comforter, he didn't do anything else.  YET.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is just my own rantings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't know why i'm so affected by this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i mean.... is it normal for a person to get super frustrated over wat this moron did?  or am i just suffering from OCD (&lt;em&gt;Obsessive Complusive Disorder&lt;/em&gt;)??  i know i wash my hands more often than a normal human being, and i insist that ppl borrow things &amp;amp; put them back in its original place, and i don't like to share food / drinks with ppl whom i feel are 'dirty' &amp;amp; 'unhygenic'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now, i'm beginning to wonder if the problem lies with ME or HIM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in doubt becuz it seems like everyone else is treating me like the bad person...... it's like saying that I'm overreacting and being too harsh on the guy.  Nobody dares to speak up.  Nobody dares to tell him off.  But my bf did say that he will come back from Yemen &amp;amp; have a talk with that moron.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my parents did feel the anguish for me.  Especially my mother becuz she totally hates ppl who takes full advantage of other ppl's stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, if YOU feel that I am overreacting or being too bitchy about this thing, then YOU imagine that YOUR bed is being abused.  Imagine that this happened to YOU.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm getting really tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday, I'm at home and I'm DREADING the day I have to go over to my bf's house.  I really DREAD stepping into the room.  I'm wondering everyday, "&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;what other rubbish am i going to find in my bf's room... on my bf's bed.  what other rubbish is that farker going to leave behind while the owner of the house is not around&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i DREAD it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sick feeling in my stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is damn disturbing to know that another man has dropped his HAIRS on the bed that you share with your bf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is super disturbing to know that another man has slept &amp;amp; sweated in the bed that you share with your bf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is also disturbing to know that this asshole has closed the door while he is inside your bf's room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my bf comes back from Yemen, I am going to wash EVERYTHING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to try to get rid of all the residue of that guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to try to make the room &amp;amp; bed privately ours again.  Now, it feels like the room is not a master bedroom, but becomes a PUBLIC room.  Anybody can come in &amp;amp; shit on it, then leave it in a mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish that asshole will go bald by the end of this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-6529549774015097983?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/6529549774015097983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=6529549774015097983' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6529549774015097983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6529549774015097983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/09/rude-rude-man-part-ii-what-there-is.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-8814571450956065027</id><published>2008-09-26T16:06:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T17:12:52.592+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;RUDE RUDE MAN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i didn't accidentally type 2 'rude'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it is exactly how i feel!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that man is super dupey rude!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i really hate ppl touching my bed.  you know beds are like some sacred haven where you have your rest &amp;amp; eternal peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but this guy????  when the owner of the house is not around.... .... this TENANT goes ahead and lies on other ppl's bed... as if he is goldilocks... *PUI AH*... but even worse.... he was NOT FEELING WELL (&lt;em&gt;flu or cough or some stupid viral shit&lt;/em&gt;) when he laid on the bed... and i bet he had SWEATED his sick juice on the bed... .... he ATE some snacks on the bed......... and drop his Hansel &amp;amp; Gretel crumbs on the bed.... .... ..... watched tv thoughout the night &amp;amp; then fell asleep on the bed with the tv on.... ....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how disgusting is this?!?!?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU TELL ME?!?!?!?!  sweat, dirt, grime, crumbs, sick juice, slimy hair....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;DISGUSTING&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;IS THIS?!?!?!?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish i can just THROW THAT DAMN BED AWAY.  THROW THE PILLOWS WHICH HE RESTED HIS SMELLY GREASY HAIR ON.  THROW THE BLANKET WHICH HE PROBABLY WIPED HIS SNACK-FILLED MOUTH ON.  AND DUN EVEN KNOW IF HIS FEET IS CLEAN OR NOT... BECUZ THE COMFORTER LOOKS LIKE IT HAD BEEN RUBBED BY FEET!!!!  THROW THE BEDSHEETS AWAY BECUZ SNACK CRUMBS HAS BEEN DISTRIBUTED ON IT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that night when i had to sleep at my bf's house (&lt;em&gt;yes, he is away in Yemen &amp;amp; i slept over at his house so that i can send his mother to work in the morning.... i'm soooooooooooo nice, right????????????????&lt;/em&gt;), i felt damn bloody pissed off.  the bed was tidy &amp;amp; neat when i left.... but when i went home for the weekend, that asshole went ahead &amp;amp; had his fun on the bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know what some of you are thinking, "&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;it's your bf's bed wat... not your bed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YA.  but i SLEEP in it???  i COVER MY BODY with the BLANKET / COMFORTER.  i LAY MY FACE on the PILLOW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;do you know how INHYGENIC it is?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;somemore, my bf's mother always complain that that asshole's room is very smelly becuz of his sweat smell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so now, you imagine........ this smelly farker comes &amp;amp; have his fun on YOUR bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how would YOU feel?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;but me being me, i just HAD to confront him.  HAD TO.  but seeing that he is sort of like my bf's friend / housemate / tenant, i still had to be not-so-harsh on him.  so i gave him my not-so-pissed-off-cum-stern look, and i said to him, "&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;did you have fun on andy's bed last night???&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;and this idiot actually started to shake his head &amp;amp; deny, but i told him, "&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;there were tit-bit crumbs all over the bed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;and you know what he said to me, "&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999900;"&gt;oh... ya.  then go &amp;amp; vacuum the bed lor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;(O_O)&lt;/span&gt;  !!!!!  *deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep breathssssssssssssssssssss*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;VACUUM THE BED?!?!?!!?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;VACUUM THE BED&lt;/span&gt;?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;who the fark is he!??!?!?!  a pig?!?!?!?!?  likes to roll in the mud &amp;amp; bake its sweaty body in the sun &amp;amp; create even MORE sweat then only shiok, is it?!?!?!?!??!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he never even offer to change the bedsheets / pillow cases / bolster cases / wash blanket / wash comforter......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and he somemore TELL ME to go and VACUUM THE BED?!?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MADNESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FURIOUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;whatever.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, of course i snitch on him &amp;amp; told my bf all about this in an overseas call, plus sms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and my bf said that he will come back &amp;amp; talk to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;aiya.... listen first.  whether or not he tells that idiot...... or HOW he talks to him....... will be another story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my bf might say, "&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;MY GF doesn't like you touching the bed..... MY GF ah, not me..... is MY GF don't like.......... ya lor, she very particular........ yes yes, i agree she is too much for confronting you on whether you had fun on my bed....... sorry sorry......... i will tell her off....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(O_O)   ........................ you think my bf will say that??  hmmm... maybe not.  but at least my bf has to support me, right????  becuz he himself also told me that he doesn't like ppl to lie on his bed.  but maybe he paisey to tell his friend not to take advantage of his house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if you think this is the end of it, it is not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the FOLLOWING weekend, he didn't lie on the bed.  but he sat on the floor &amp;amp; utilized the tv (&lt;em&gt;btw, this is MY 30" phillips tv... i bought it for $1000, 2nd hand from my parents.... to put in MY BF's room... so that he has a bigger tv to watch&lt;/em&gt;)....................... but he also LAID his stinky greasy hair on the comforter which was folded neatly on the bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(O_O)  .................... *deeeeeeeeeeeeeep breathhhhhhsssssssss again*...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS THE FARKING DIFFERENCE!??!?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's only like.... a little bit better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;100% better would be HIM NOT TOUCHING THE BED AT ALL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i dunno why he has to come into the master bedroom to use the master bathroom to shit &amp;amp; smoke...... he can jolly well do that in the common bathroom in the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and worst of all, he is not even paying that much rent to my bf..... only like... $250 or $350, i cannot remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IDIOT, right!??!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;take advantage of other ppl, right!??!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he paid so little for room rate, but uses the house like condo facilities!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;switch on all the lights.... tv on whole day.... internet modem on whole day &amp;amp; night.... uses the master bathroom to shit &amp;amp; smoke.... switch on aircon when he sleeps (&lt;em&gt;even my bf &amp;amp; his mother don't even switch on the aircon&lt;/em&gt;)... treats my bf like his driver by asking my bf to send him to work... uses the master bedroom for tv watching becuz can lie down on the master bed.... and many many more other disgusting habits......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can't even sleep peacefully in my bf's house anymore............. knowing that i have to lie down on a bed with some guy's body sweat &amp;amp; smell &amp;amp; greasy hair particles....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*pukes*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-8814571450956065027?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/8814571450956065027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=8814571450956065027' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8814571450956065027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8814571450956065027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/09/rude-rude-man-i-didnt-accidentally-type.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-3193190926022290413</id><published>2008-09-21T19:08:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T19:25:48.486+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;New Eyebrows&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another victim of mummy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SNYrbct6k6I/AAAAAAAAAPA/KyuXbUadVBs/s1600-h/DSC00001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SNYrbct6k6I/AAAAAAAAAPA/KyuXbUadVBs/s400/DSC00001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248430166312129442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Me, "gina... you look like LA PI XIAO XIN!!!"&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SNYsMxgLNwI/AAAAAAAAAPI/SX0wkNfNdOg/s1600-h/DSC00053.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SNYsMxgLNwI/AAAAAAAAAPI/SX0wkNfNdOg/s400/DSC00053.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248431013705234178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;Gina, "hahahahha... really meh?!??!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SNYsb_6tPoI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/Oz2sSxsnbUE/s1600-h/DSC00055.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SNYsb_6tPoI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/Oz2sSxsnbUE/s400/DSC00055.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248431275272650370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;Gina, "but I still look chio, right?"&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Me, "..... sure".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's called Creative Eyebrows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel your pain, man.  When I was her age, mummy took me to go TATTOO my eyebrows... and in those days, it was old-fashioned tattoo technique (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;oh shit... now my secret is out!!!  did i just unintentionally revealed intentionally that my eyebrows were tattooed???&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, they call it Creative Eyebrows.... wow..... and you won't believe it.  It actually already looks.... MORE natural than the old-fashioned tattoo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SNYttU_jD9I/AAAAAAAAAPY/PvP0MiLWaCI/s1600-h/DSC00057.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SNYttU_jD9I/AAAAAAAAAPY/PvP0MiLWaCI/s400/DSC00057.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248432672499503058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Me, "and guess what??  i just permed my hair too!!.... just kidding... i just hot thong'ed it"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look damn auntie lor.... ... i was about to take shower, then decided to play with my hot thongs which were buried in the cupboard for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway... look out for updates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry, Gina.... I'm sure they'll look better in a week or so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;... she's going to kill me for posting these up....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-3193190926022290413?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/3193190926022290413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=3193190926022290413' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/3193190926022290413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/3193190926022290413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/09/new-eyebrows-another-victim-of-mummy.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SNYrbct6k6I/AAAAAAAAAPA/KyuXbUadVBs/s72-c/DSC00001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-8109585250911434318</id><published>2008-09-13T20:28:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T20:57:32.920+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;SO STRESSED OUT&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention I got promoted?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On 1st July 2008, I was promoted to HR Exec.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, it's more work &amp;amp; responsibilities now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And sometimes, I feel so tired.  Brain tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I especially dislike this person at work.  She likes saying this in a really sarcastic way, "if you don't want to do, then don't do lor".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the first place, she was giving me HER work to do &amp;amp; it was assigned to her by the GM.  And I merely told her that I'm not going to do that part becuz I am very busy, so I'm just going to do the photos part which my HR manager told me to do.  And then she gave me this black face &amp;amp; stinking attitude and sighed, "if you don't want to do, then don't do lor".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HELL NO OF COURSE I DON'T WANT TO DO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just becuz she cannot finish HER work, doesn't mean that she can dump it on me &amp;amp; then treat as if it's MY fault for not helping her.  First of all, she's frustrated at work.  That's fine.  But don't vent it out on ME.  And secondly, DON'T EVER..... EVER show me attitude.  I will take it the 1st time... then the 2nd time... maybe the 3rd time... but if this stupid attitude continues, don't force me to attack you back the 4th time.  There IS a limit to MY tolerance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My motto is very simple.  How you treat me is how I treat you.  If you treat me like a fool, then don't expect me to do favors for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But on the other hand, when I try to be understanding towards her farked up attitude, I can sort of .... REALLY understand what &amp;amp; how she is feeling.  This is becuz I have been feeling the same frustrations as work.  The company is expanding too quickly.  People are overworked &amp;amp; underpaid.  It sometimes feels like you're being punished or exploited.  And then during the times when you are MOST busy &amp;amp; facing TOO MANY frustrations &amp;amp; WAY TOO MUCH work pressures, the company adds more pointless unimportant jobs to your workload &amp;amp; still expects to you fulfil it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have more impt things to do... ... like... ... ACTUAL operational work.  I know the stupid lobby slides are considered as work too, but seriously... ... NOT AT THIS TIME.  Not at a time when everyone is hiring &amp;amp; leaving &amp;amp; complaining &amp;amp; political fighting &amp;amp; figuring how to stablize things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the time like this, how can the company tell the staffs to go take happy pictures &amp;amp; take pictures of new staffs... then put into some kind of creative powerpoint slides, so that ppl can view them in the lobby tv.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BLASPHEMY!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me &amp;amp; some colleagues feel that these lobby slides are really a waste of time.  And at some point, when the company gives us pressure on these minor little details, we feel that it is superbly unreasonable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THERE IS ALREADY SO MUCH WORK TO BE DONE!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I even have to bring work home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to work on weekends!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I am sick!  And not eating well!  I lost 4kg!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really need a good long break from work.  Just stay home, watch DVDs, go swimming, get a tan, go to the gym, eat more, sleep better.... .... ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for some reason, I'm still working in this company.  Everyone told me to quit becuz they all see how stressed out I am &amp;amp; how I'm falling sick all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even when I'm having a high fever, I still go to work... ... in order to clear the urgent matters &amp;amp; then go see the doctor in the afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And even when I'm on MC &amp;amp; at home, I'm not even resting becuz I am so stressed out that I had forgotten to do something impt at work &amp;amp; I'm going to fark up something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I have gastric for like 2 months, but I tolerated with the pain until my condition worsened.  And when I went to see a specialist, apparently there was hemorrhage &amp;amp; something else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so stressed out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a good long break away from work.  And then maybe I will FINALLY be able to nurse myself back to good health.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-8109585250911434318?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/8109585250911434318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=8109585250911434318' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8109585250911434318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8109585250911434318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/09/so-stressed-out-did-i-mention-i-got.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-4749285455121473160</id><published>2008-07-07T18:53:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T19:07:58.804+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;BEST BOYFRIEND FOR THE DAY&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I feel like my boyfriend bochap me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But today, it feels like my boyfriend is the best!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have been having this gastric pains since early morning, but I decided to go to work becuz I have some urgent things to complete.  I thought of going to see the doctor in the afternoon once I have finish off my impt work....... but WHO KNOWS, there was so much work to be done.... so i worked till past lunch....... then i told myself that i'll go to see doc around 3pm, but then there's a KPI meeting held at 3pm and i was told to attend........ so i told myself that i'll go see doc after the meeting.... but it seemed that the meeting was going to take long...... so i told myself that first thing in the morning, i'll see the doc.  but then my gastric got worse.... BUT I STILL HAD TO ATTEND THE KPI MEETING...... oh why why why didn't i convince myself to leave earlier to see the doc &amp;amp; get some miracle gastric pills!?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily my GM gone thru the HR parts and said that i can be released from the meeting first.  i looked at the time and damn it's 7pm.  the meeting was from 3pm to 7pm... oh my god... and it's still not even halfway done.  sometimes, i really pity the managers in my company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, the journey from my work place back to home will take about 1hr 45mins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;gastriccccccccccccccccccc painnnnnnnnnnnnn... and seriously, on top of all these pain, i have to come mensus during the very worst times..... so it's like... gastric plus mensus cramps.... WHAT MAN!??!?!  can i be more suay or not!??!?!  and on top of that, i need to shit.  and let me tell you, it is NO JOKE when you have severe cramps and you have to shit..... it's like..... your whole 'nether regions' is damn swollen and painful, but you still have to squeeze a hard piece of shit out from your asshole.  the feeling is indescribable...........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so after i returned to my workdesk, i just had to call my bf to whine... but surprisingly, my bf offered immediately to come and fetch me &amp;amp; bring me to see the doctor..........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;=D&lt;/span&gt; !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO DAMN SWEET LOR!?!?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHY TO FIND THIS KIND OF BOYFRIEND?!?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;.... or is he feeling guilty about something which we argued about over the weekend....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;humph....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but nevermind......... since he still makes the effort to treat me so nice................. i decided to forgive him.....  maybe he DOES love me after all...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MMMMMMUACK!  *heart heart heart heart heart*...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-4749285455121473160?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/4749285455121473160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=4749285455121473160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/4749285455121473160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/4749285455121473160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/07/best-boyfriend-for-day-sometimes-i-feel.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-2675002252241154520</id><published>2008-06-27T14:46:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-06-27T14:55:30.609+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Little Dark Secrets&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we all have one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something which you keep it from certain people &amp;amp; hope tat the secret does not come &amp;amp; bite you in the ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know ppl who cheated on their partners.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know ppl who have done downright weird &amp;amp; freaky stuffs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or those who have committed a serious crime but were never caught.  Yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to have my own dark little secret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, it's not so dark anymore.  And neither is it a secret.  It is now considered the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of my friends have played around behind their partners back, but the funny thing is... ... ... they always get bitten back in the butt.  Why?  I think it's becuz of KARMA lah, wat else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I totally believe in karma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you used to be a playboy, then one day, you'll fall so deeply in love with a girl, but you'll never get her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you used to be such a whore, then men will TREAT you like a whore for the rest of your lives.  And no matter how much you try &amp;amp; turn over a new leaf, you'll never ever find a guy who will respect you anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you used to touch other girls / visit hookers, then your own gf / wife will one day turn around and cheat on you with other men as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then what can the world say, except.................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SERVE YOU RIGHT!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;YOU DESERVE YOUR PUNISHMENT!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, i hate to admit it, but I also have received my karma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe a little too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope that maybe &lt;em&gt;SOMEONE UP THERE&lt;/em&gt; can see that I have 'paid my debts'... and maybe have a little mercy on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please let me have a pleasant life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-2675002252241154520?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/2675002252241154520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=2675002252241154520' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/2675002252241154520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/2675002252241154520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/06/little-dark-secrets-i-think-we-all-have.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-4368944233363840161</id><published>2008-05-27T10:09:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2008-06-27T14:41:32.444+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Accumulated Weird Dreams&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#66ffff;"&gt;Dream 1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at home and spotted a few cockroaches!!! I HATE COCKROACHES!! Just looking at them gives me goosebumps! I quickly grabbed a can of Bygone and aim it at one of the yucky creepy thing and SPRAYED!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*BEGONE, FOUL BEAST!!!*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... but somehow, that cockroach had a very hard protective shell, so even Bygone couldn't work. In fact, it looked like one of those hissing cockroaches from Fear Factor... ... ewwwwwwwww!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then suddenly, scene changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw Gina (&lt;em&gt;dunno why her&lt;/em&gt;) had caught the cockroach with her BARE HANDS... and then she was brutally stabbing the cockroach in the body with a sharp twig...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;sudden enlightenment&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;*...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;i kw why i dreamt of her doing that now!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;My sister used to stab live crabs in the gut to kill them off when she was in Primary School. The rest of the family were just too kind-hearted. It's like we all wanted to EAT FRESH CRABS, but nobody had the guts to kill them&lt;/em&gt;...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Gina snipped off one of its legs with a scissors (i dunno wat for... maybe to keep at a souvenior). But I told her that the cockroach will take a much longer time to die!!! So I told her, "just kill it quick so it's not suffering"... ... and in a spilt second, my sister pinched off its head with her bare fingers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*disgusted shocked face now*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After this dream, I had never looked at my sister the same way again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#66ffff;"&gt;Dream 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I was at some shopping centre. In my dream, it was at harbourfront, but it looked NOTHING like the real shopping centre at harbourfront.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I was there with my boyfriend and some of his friends. They said that they're going up to 2nd floor to look at some car accessories.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, I walked around on my own, but feeling bored, I went to look for some gossip magazines. For some reason, I couldn't find a single decent magazine around! I was looking for 8 days or Cleo or First or something interestingly readable, but NONE. In every 7-11 and bookstores and provision shops, they ONLY sold car or IT magazines.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I was so disappointed.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Just as I was walking out from a 7-11, I saw an ex-bf just walked past me. I didn't feel surprised or scared or anything, but I suddenly wondered if he was stalking me. *shrugs*... oh well...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gave up looking for magazines becuz OBVIOUSLY i couldn't find ANYTHING, so I decided to go look for my bf and his friends. I went up to the 2nd level to try and look for a shop that sells car accessories, but as I walked past this hair saloon.................... I SAW MY BF &amp;amp; HIS FRIENDS IN THAT HAIR SALOON, CHATTING HAPPILY WITH SOME SLUTTY-LOOKING GIRLS IN THERE!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn furious!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I walked into the hair saloon, they all looked up at me and had that &lt;em&gt;'uh oh... kenna caught&lt;/em&gt;' look on their moronic faces which I so want to farking beat them up! Then I screamed at my bf, "&lt;strong&gt;SEE!!! I KNEW I SHOULDN'T HAVE TRUSTED YOU WITH THESE PEOPLE!!! ALL THEY KNOW HOW TO DO IS TO BRING YOU TO FLIRT AROUND WITH GIRLS!!! I JUST KNEW THAT YOU WILL BE EASILY INFLUENCED!!!! YOU JUST LIKE DOING THINGS BEHIND MY BACK!!!&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sooooooooooo sooooooooooooooooo disappointed in him...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of the sudden, while I'm in that stage between dreaming and waking up (&lt;em&gt;and of course, still feeling furious&lt;/em&gt;), I heard my popo (&lt;em&gt;mummy's mummy&lt;/em&gt;) telling me that I haven't been visiting her in such a long time and that I should go see her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I woke up... wondering why I only heard popo's voice talking to me &amp;amp; wondered if it is a sign that I should REALLY go and see her....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was still feeling angry &amp;amp; hurt about my bf chatting up with other girls. Felt like calling him straightaway and scolding him for cheating behind my back (&lt;em&gt;so what if it's a dream?!?!&lt;/em&gt;)... ... but then again, when I looked at the time, it was 9am S'pore time......... so it should be......... 4am in Yemen. Ok. Maybe not such a good idea to call and scream at him. I can just scold him for it when he returns to S'pore on 1 June.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what if it's ONLY a dream?!?! The dream HAD to be a sign!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#66ffff;"&gt;Dream 3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suspect this dream was actually connected to the previous dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dreamt that I was a professional ballroom dancer (&lt;em&gt;dun ask me why such a boring dance... it's a DREAM&lt;/em&gt;) and I danced with this guy becuz since my bf dun care about my feelings, so I shouldn't care about his feelings anymore also (&lt;em&gt;so childish, i know&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then as we ballroom danced around the floor, this guy said that he liked me and I was secretly pleased. While dancing, i twirled and twirled and twirled in circles until i was feeling dizzy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... then the alarm on my hp rang, and as i opened my eyes, it actually felt that i had twirled one too many times... ... ahahhahaa... i was feeling giddy and dizzy lying in bed........... but yet....... i have..... to..... pick.... up.... the hp.... to stop.... alarm......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;......... but the whole room was spinning so badly that i couldn't grab hold of the hp properly and it got tossed further from me... ... so i had to get off the bed to reach it.... ... but..... so.... so dizzy...... i landed on my butt....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;--------------------------------&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's amazing how my mind works while it's asleep.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;No wonder i always wake up tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-4368944233363840161?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/4368944233363840161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=4368944233363840161' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/4368944233363840161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/4368944233363840161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/05/accumulated-weird-dreams-dream-1-i-was.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-1817778445557911154</id><published>2008-05-09T23:03:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T23:41:00.403+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Irritating Habits&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&amp;amp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Multiple Mood Disorder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some ppl hates ppl to cough w/o covering their mouths.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some dislikes ppl to whistle at night (yeah... i dun understand this logic either).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other dun like ppl to pick their nose / fart / scratch armpits in public.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bf don't like it when I chew my fingernails (not toenails, mind you).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you know what I hate?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate it when ppl invade my personal space / stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it's becuz I have this 'caveman' syndrome.  I like to keep my personal things.  PERSONAL.  MINE.  AND NOBODY ELSE'S.  ONLY FOR ME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I draw this little circle where I put my family, friends, bf, favourite things inside.  And I hate it when outsiders bully ppl in this circle or touch MY things that are in this circle.  Simply becuz...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;IT IS MINE!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the logic is very simple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not selfish.  I am not stingy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just need to KNOW that you want to touch MY stuff (that applies to MY bf also... slutty bitches better hands off MY guy).  and if anyone wants to bully / take advantage of MY family &amp;amp; friends, then they better be ready to suffer the wrath of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, this colleague of mine has this habit which irritates me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She seems to HELP herself to my personal stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last month, she used my fork as a screwdriver on a dirty cabinet, and i had to throw it away becuz i can NEVER put that thing in my mouth again, you kw what i mean??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then today, she helped herself to my scented wet tissues to clean a dirty dusty desk.  and she did it behind my back.  it was only when i returned to my desk, i saw my cabinet wasn't closed properly and i was worried that someone went thru my personal stuff which was inside the drawer (like my bag/wallet/ID/atm cards/food stuff/etc etc).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so since she's sitting just beside me, i thought she would happen to see the culprit who messed around with my drawer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i asked her, "did anyone open this drawer???"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... and she said, "oh ya me.  i took your wet tissues to wipe the desk."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... and i was like WHAT THE *TOOT*?!??!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it me, or is it she super no manners???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i mean, it's not that i'm selfish or stingy or anything.  but just becuz you KNOW my stuff is there, it still doesn't give you the RIGHT to go thru it and HELP YOURSELF to it.  that's why there is the term - &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;PERSONAL&lt;/span&gt; stuff.  it's SUPPOSED to be personal!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i really wanted to faint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but as straightforward as i am, i just told her it's personal stuff and she cannot just help herself to it.  at least JUST say you want something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then she jokingly said, "so stingy one..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT THE *DOUBLE TOOT*?!?!?!?!?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the problem is, the wet tissues are bought with my OWN money.  and you cannot keep asking me to give you wet tissues, becuz to me, i will think that there are OTHER things you can use to wipe the damn table... ... ... like GO TOILET AND GRAB SOME TOILET PAPER AND WET IT AND USE THAT TO WIPE THE BLOODY DESK.  (ok, that was what i actually straightforwardly told her too, but her reply was 'LAZY MAH').  excuse me.  just becuz you LAZY, it still doesn't give you the RIGHT to use MY things.  just becuz you LAZY... ... what kind of excuse is that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and if you keep asking me for wet tissues to wipe your mouth / hands after eating, i will think that you can also use OTHER methods to wash yourself... ... ... like GO TOILET AND USE SOAP AND WASH YOUR FREAKIN MOUTH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i mean, if you keep asking wet tissues from me, then i will wonder WHY CAN'T YOU GO AND BUY SOME WET TISSUES FOR YOURSELF?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;like i said, it's not that i'm selfish or stingy... ... but DON'T BLOODY TAKE ADVANTAGE OF PPL!!!!!!  correct or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;luckily i'm not that kind of ppl who bears grudge on others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for me, i am angry that something like that had happened.  but i'm not pissed at her directly.  anyway after i straightforwardly told her that it's not right, she also understand that she has to respect me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she's a funny bubbly person.  but sometimes, she really has irritating habits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i'm not perfect either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i chew my nails and i have a super quick temper, coupled with a bold daring personality &amp;amp; a wicked mouth.  i know i offend ppl sometimes, becuz anything that goes into my head, will come out from my mouth without any filtering first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;like i said it's QUICK temper.  not bad temper.  i get emotional easily.  happy, sad, angry, moody, excited... ... but the emotion comes &amp;amp; goes easily too.  maybe that's why i don't bear any grudges on anyone.  or maybe it's due to me being forgetful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's like... HAPPY HAPPY (few minutes later, feels PMS'y)... MOODY (then sees something interesting)... EXCITED EXCITED (but then turns around to see someone touching my personal stuff)... RED HOT PISSED FURIOUS (start venting out the anger by telling the person off)... COOLS DOWN (notices something funny)... LAUGH LAUGH LAUGH (turns around and tells the person whom i just told off to look at that something funny)... ... SERIOUS MOOD (goes back to work then starts thinking about how unfair life is)... ... MOODY (starts complaining)... ... then HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY (becuz getting off work in 10mins)... ... then when reach home, DANCE AROUND EXCITEDLY IN THE LIVING ROOM (just becuz it's the weekend)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i might have some kind of mood disorder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-1817778445557911154?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/1817778445557911154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=1817778445557911154' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/1817778445557911154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/1817778445557911154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/05/irritating-habits-multiple-mood.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-744590830015694394</id><published>2008-05-06T22:25:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T22:53:17.093+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;3 Pleasant Surprises&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is a good happy day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Firstly, my bf FINALLY for the VERY FIRST TIME showed that he was worried about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;=D !!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He actually expressed it in an irritated and 'bu nan fan' (translation: impatient) tone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;=D !!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And all these while, I thought he was bochap with anything that I do.  And I had the impression that he dun care if I live or die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;=D !!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it's quite fair leh.  Becuz all these time, I was the one who acted like a spoiled brat while he keep doing playful unboyfriend'ish stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And tonight, he finally got a SMALL LITTLE TASTE of what he had been inflicting on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hehehehehehe...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;=D !!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, I know HE DOES CARE ABOUT ME!!!  At least he cared enough to call my house to look for me.  hahahaha...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Secondly, I met up with a friend who had disappeared for more than 1 yr.  Finally, that ku ku agreed to meet up &amp;amp; never give excuses like "BUSY LEH".  And glad that we had so much fun &amp;amp; jokes... just like before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shit.  This means that we nvr grew up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More amazingly, we had managed to TRY to keep in touch with a long lost friend.  And so far, it is turning out ok.  Well... we were young &amp;amp; rebellious.  Then there were mistakes &amp;amp; misunderstandings.  But since it has been THAT long.  Maybe it's time we forgive &amp;amp; forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 pleasant surprises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my job still sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just sms'ed my boss earlier.  I told her that our dept definitely need a temp.  One person really cannot do so many things.  Company has grown twice its size within 1 year.  2 times bigger, but still a 1-man-show.  Cannot like that, right?  How to work efficiently?  And becuz everything is becoming so unpleasant, more &amp;amp; more ppl are going on MC / AWOL / leave... plus have to handle so many complaints from staffs... and all these add up to too many paperwork.  We're talking about 1 person handling over 100+ employees, you kw.  And FULL SPECTRUM of HR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least if I leave the company, I can say that I have done the impossible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But sometimes, really hard to hang on without support.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nobody will thank you if you sell your soul to the company and ruin other aspects of your own life like health, family, friends, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is true, ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So workaholics, you better take care of other areas instead of just work.  There are some ppl whom I have interviewed who actually told me about how their work has led to divorces + kids who don't talk to their own parents + getting cancer but still never take time to heal properly.  It's just depressing to interview these ppl, but yet, it's also a wake up call for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope I dun turn out to be one of these unfortunate ppl.  But it's hard not to work overtime in my company becuz somehow, we are being discriminated for going home on time.  I have a no-life job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want to have a life outside job, then you have to tahan the sarcastic remarks lor.  And then ppl think you're so free, they give you MORE work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is tough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therefore, it's the little things in life that I will appreciate more.  And that makes my day happier.  For today, it will be the 3 pleasant surprises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to remind myself that life is still worth living for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if I have to leave this world, I know I still have had good fun times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-744590830015694394?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/744590830015694394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=744590830015694394' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/744590830015694394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/744590830015694394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/05/3-pleasant-surprises-today-is-good.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-8497881249881659544</id><published>2008-05-04T16:48:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T17:10:57.694+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;My New Acer Laptop&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, it is my 1st laptop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Viola!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Acer Aspire 6920G.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SB15j7PVzaI/AAAAAAAAAO4/nfGxq8u15is/s1600-h/as-6920_7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SB15j7PVzaI/AAAAAAAAAO4/nfGxq8u15is/s400/as-6920_7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196443203159838114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Super dupee nice, right?!?!?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bf offered to pay half of the cost.  SO SWEEEEEEEEEEEETTTTTTTTT!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The actual price is $1,998.  But if you pay in full in cash, then it's $1,900 + free optical mouse + 160GB harddisk (but the harddisk still have to go and collect from Funan &amp;amp; while stocks last).  So, I'm going to go collect the harddisk tmw morning.  HOPEFULLY STILL HAVE STOCK!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, daddy is configuring the laptop for me.  I CAN'T WAIT!!!  Finally my personal laptop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can practically surf porn in my room in peace &amp;amp; quiet now + close the door = privacy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How great is that?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The laptop has great specs, reasonable price.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And first time I see laptop come with remote control, ok?!?!  Great for watching dvd &amp;amp; probably even TV (function still yet to be discovered becuz i haven't messed around with the laptop yet).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16" screen.  Damn bloody clear.  Good resolution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nVidia dedicated 512MB graphics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Excited liao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daddy, configure faster lehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope the laptop dun kaput on me.  Somehow things around me get damaged easily.  But I swear I have been gentle with all these electronic stuff lor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok.  My next blog will be done on the new laptop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Must test out its performance too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YIPPEE!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, my boyfriend!!!  MUACK!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-8497881249881659544?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/8497881249881659544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=8497881249881659544' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8497881249881659544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8497881249881659544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-new-acer-laptop-actually-it-is-my.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SB15j7PVzaI/AAAAAAAAAO4/nfGxq8u15is/s72-c/as-6920_7.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-6292744374409202768</id><published>2008-05-01T19:36:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T19:43:15.177+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Wrong Information&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Operation Desert Storm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am chatting with Dummy on MSN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said he read my blog and claimed that I gave wrong info.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said that he is in Republic of Yemen.  NOT Saudi Arabia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm 100% sure that HE WAS THE ONE WHO TOLD ME SAUDI ARABIA before his trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking, "aiya... no need to amend my blog... nobody will know anyway".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he insisted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a PrintScreen of our MSN conversation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmsSrPVzZI/AAAAAAAAAOw/7ll0aOXPV7Q/s1600-h/Picture1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmsSrPVzZI/AAAAAAAAAOw/7ll0aOXPV7Q/s400/Picture1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195373081993268626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For posting this up... ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... it's for blog entertainment sake...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but... ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I KNOW I SURE KENNA FROM HIM AGAIN&lt;/span&gt;!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-6292744374409202768?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/6292744374409202768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=6292744374409202768' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6292744374409202768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6292744374409202768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/05/wrong-information-on-operation-desert.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmsSrPVzZI/AAAAAAAAAOw/7ll0aOXPV7Q/s72-c/Picture1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-3913199913202833363</id><published>2008-05-01T18:49:00.007+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T18:55:44.772+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;OPERATION DESERT STORM (I)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since it's Labor Day and I have nothing better to do, I think I'll just blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this is going to be a short post...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is where Dummy (if you dunno who this is, read previous blog on Labor Day) is now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmglbPVzUI/AAAAAAAAAOI/DqkMUJ0PnEY/s1600-h/P4290054.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmglbPVzUI/AAAAAAAAAOI/DqkMUJ0PnEY/s400/P4290054.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195360209976282434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmgrLPVzVI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/FKmUZ1lA0Qg/s1600-h/P4290057.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmgrLPVzVI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/FKmUZ1lA0Qg/s400/P4290057.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195360308760530258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmgy7PVzWI/AAAAAAAAAOY/TeE9HnBk85Q/s1600-h/P4290058.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmgy7PVzWI/AAAAAAAAAOY/TeE9HnBk85Q/s400/P4290058.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195360441904516450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmg7LPVzXI/AAAAAAAAAOg/7O0R-kIIa5s/s1600-h/P4290059.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmg7LPVzXI/AAAAAAAAAOg/7O0R-kIIa5s/s400/P4290059.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195360583638437234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmg-7PVzYI/AAAAAAAAAOo/vN-63wU9Qts/s1600-h/P4290063.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmg-7PVzYI/AAAAAAAAAOo/vN-63wU9Qts/s400/P4290063.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195360648062946690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually there are other pictures, but those are in another laptop.  I'll post more pictures next time.  I told Dummy that since I cannot travel to Saudi Arabia with him, then he has to take lots of pictures and let me see what that country looks like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-3913199913202833363?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/3913199913202833363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=3913199913202833363' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/3913199913202833363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/3913199913202833363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/05/operation-desert-storm-i-since-its.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmglbPVzUI/AAAAAAAAAOI/DqkMUJ0PnEY/s72-c/P4290054.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-1603033058225621614</id><published>2008-05-01T15:49:00.037+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T18:12:29.970+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Labor Day Family Outing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;+&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Other old pictures&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's Labor Day!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1st May.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bf is in Saudi Arabia now... only will be back next month around the 2oth.  And since he's away, he has LENT me his car to abuse.  Oh yeah...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmOPrPVzKI/AAAAAAAAAM4/HU4jQO-kZE8/s1600-h/25.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmOPrPVzKI/AAAAAAAAAM4/HU4jQO-kZE8/s400/25.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195340045104827554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family has decided to take advantage of this incredible offer... ... and we DROVE TO CHINATOWN FOR LUNCH!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was at Mirama Hotel at Eu Tong Seng Street.&lt;br /&gt;(i think i remembered the hotel name &amp;amp; road name correctly... sorry, getting old)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ate at...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBl7qLPVyyI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/-tmMJQOMVXw/s1600-h/01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBl7qLPVyyI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/-tmMJQOMVXw/s400/01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195319609650432802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like BUFFET LUNCH aka Eat Until You Vomit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before food,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBl8f7PVyzI/AAAAAAAAAKA/ewWX5XTW7RU/s1600-h/02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBl8f7PVyzI/AAAAAAAAAKA/ewWX5XTW7RU/s400/02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195320533068401458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;see me &amp;amp; gina's lips so pale... due to over-hunger...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;pic of="" food=""&gt;And while eating &amp;amp; waiting for food to be served, it's PICTURE TAKING TIME!!!  The whole bunch of us cam-whore shamelessly in the middle of the whole restaurant...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pic&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBl-abPVy0I/AAAAAAAAAKI/n9HE78z7gwM/s1600-h/03.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBl-abPVy0I/AAAAAAAAAKI/n9HE78z7gwM/s400/03.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195322637602376514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;trying to make SUPER FUGLY faces... but seems like only I succeeded...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBl-1rPVy1I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ZDBe4aPTqzY/s1600-h/04.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBl-1rPVy1I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ZDBe4aPTqzY/s400/04.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195323105753811794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;mummy very happy with photo-taking... daddy just want to eat...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBl_DLPVy2I/AAAAAAAAAKY/2sJ5anh0QlA/s1600-h/05.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBl_DLPVy2I/AAAAAAAAAKY/2sJ5anh0QlA/s400/05.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195323337682045794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Alvin &amp;amp; Catherine... so in love...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And becuz everyone was so hungry, we ordered A LOT of food...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmPtLPVzLI/AAAAAAAAANA/WSo3MIw4O1M/s1600-h/26.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmPtLPVzLI/AAAAAAAAANA/WSo3MIw4O1M/s400/26.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195341651422596274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;free flow shark fins, crabs (black pepper, chilli crab, steamed), prawns (steamed, fried with butter, etc), mushrooms, herbal chicken, duck... etc etc...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After food, we cam-whore some more...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmAkbPVy3I/AAAAAAAAAKg/8L9LIsm6pz8/s1600-h/06.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmAkbPVy3I/AAAAAAAAAKg/8L9LIsm6pz8/s400/06.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195325008424323954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;... eat until damn full...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmA47PVy4I/AAAAAAAAAKo/UZBu1c3o4nA/s1600-h/07.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmA47PVy4I/AAAAAAAAAKo/UZBu1c3o4nA/s400/07.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195325360611642242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Alvin went to get desert, but when he saw that the picture was getting taken, he quickly walked over in double-quick time, just to get a 'quan jia fu' (translation: full family pic)...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmBibPVy5I/AAAAAAAAAKw/X1F8J5vrEds/s1600-h/08.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmBibPVy5I/AAAAAAAAAKw/X1F8J5vrEds/s400/08.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195326073576213394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;... so in order to fulfil Alvin's greatest wish, we agreed to take a proper 'quan jia fu' (translation: full family pic)... but i dunno why, daddy always has to have that out-of-place expression..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmCmLPVy6I/AAAAAAAAAK4/mlYJwjL46lI/s1600-h/09.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmCmLPVy6I/AAAAAAAAAK4/mlYJwjL46lI/s400/09.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195327237512350626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;... we got the busy waitress to help us take another pic... this time, plus Catherine!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmEnLPVy7I/AAAAAAAAALA/I9HPW_7pA1c/s1600-h/10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmEnLPVy7I/AAAAAAAAALA/I9HPW_7pA1c/s400/10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195329453715475378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Leaving the restaurant, we cannot resist taking MORE pictures...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmE-bPVy8I/AAAAAAAAALI/JAAo4PZcEVs/s1600-h/11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmE-bPVy8I/AAAAAAAAALI/JAAo4PZcEVs/s400/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195329853147433922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Smokers' Favourite Sign&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmFdbPVy9I/AAAAAAAAALQ/ABxYh10pnkE/s1600-h/12.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmFdbPVy9I/AAAAAAAAALQ/ABxYh10pnkE/s400/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195330385723378642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Young Ones&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmFoLPVy-I/AAAAAAAAALY/fkeH11GFKb4/s1600-h/13.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmFoLPVy-I/AAAAAAAAALY/fkeH11GFKb4/s400/13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195330570406972386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Shameless Posers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmF_7PVy_I/AAAAAAAAALg/KGk9yim_CKk/s1600-h/14.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmF_7PVy_I/AAAAAAAAALg/KGk9yim_CKk/s400/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195330978428865522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Naturally Shameless Posers... ... ... BLASPHEMY!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmGqrPVzAI/AAAAAAAAALo/J-xKELjkXMk/s1600-h/16.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmGqrPVzAI/AAAAAAAAALo/J-xKELjkXMk/s400/16.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195331712868273154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Yo Mama's Posers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmHGrPVzBI/AAAAAAAAALw/02S3bgM5yJo/s1600-h/17.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmHGrPVzBI/AAAAAAAAALw/02S3bgM5yJo/s400/17.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195332193904610322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;more Yo Mama's Posers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmJH7PVzEI/AAAAAAAAAMI/80NS5efnjjM/s1600-h/20.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmJH7PVzEI/AAAAAAAAAMI/80NS5efnjjM/s400/20.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195334414402702402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;... walking back towards the car, i took a picture of Alvin &amp;amp; Cat in the mirror...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;... now THAT'S how the professional papparrazi works, okay?!?!&lt;br /&gt;watch &amp;amp; learn, buddy...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmHgLPVzCI/AAAAAAAAAL4/ma6iKlxmVdo/s1600-h/18.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmHgLPVzCI/AAAAAAAAAL4/ma6iKlxmVdo/s400/18.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195332631991274530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;On the way home... as the Toyota Rush can only sit 5 passengers, Alvin got banished to the boot... ... but he did say that sitting there was very comfortable...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmIB7PVzDI/AAAAAAAAAMA/oGl1blr9CRg/s1600-h/19.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmIB7PVzDI/AAAAAAAAAMA/oGl1blr9CRg/s400/19.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195333211811859506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Alvin pretending to be a kidnapped victim with his hands tied behind him... ... but for some reason, we all felt that this pic looks damn porno...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;pic of="" food=""&gt;We all had so much fun.  It's been a long time since we last went out together.  So glad I have family who are fun!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course, my parents did say that LUCKY my bf lent us the car... or else we would have eaten opposite my house... AGAIN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found some random old pictures stored in the digicam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pic&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmKoLPVzFI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/im6r0HbGEds/s1600-h/21.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmKoLPVzFI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/im6r0HbGEds/s400/21.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195336067965111378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;SEE HOW CUTE TWINKLE WAS WHEN HE WAS JUST A LITTLE BABY?!?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmK0LPVzGI/AAAAAAAAAMY/OeexEYJ-ZG8/s1600-h/22.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmK0LPVzGI/AAAAAAAAAMY/OeexEYJ-ZG8/s400/22.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195336274123541602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;eeeeeee... what's that????  let's take a closer look...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmLi7PVzII/AAAAAAAAAMo/VX0046NCV0s/s1600-h/24.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmLi7PVzII/AAAAAAAAAMo/VX0046NCV0s/s400/24.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195337077282425986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;GROSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;pic of="" food=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pic&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmLUbPVzHI/AAAAAAAAAMg/QM4Rpg9QCcU/s1600-h/23.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmLUbPVzHI/AAAAAAAAAMg/QM4Rpg9QCcU/s400/23.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195336828174322802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The result from getting scratched by Twinkle when I was trying to give him a bath for the very 1st time... ... ... yup... ... the 1st time is always painful &amp;amp; uncomfortable.  But 2nd time onwards, he enjoyed it till he 'fan bai yan' (translation: roll eyes upwards until can only see eye whites due to extreme pleasure)...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;pic of="" food=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, I had this fainting spell at this shopping centre when I was alone.  And somehow I ended up in the Staff Break Room at the MRT station.  The MRT staffs were all very kind and concerned.  They gave me biscuits and Milo... and let me rest in their break room until I was feeling better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then I saw something... ... and I just KNEW that a picture HAD TO BE TAKEN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pic&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmOBbPVzJI/AAAAAAAAAMw/ARg6fwmycLw/s1600-h/24.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmOBbPVzJI/AAAAAAAAAMw/ARg6fwmycLw/s400/24.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195339800291691666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;... now we know... ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During Chinese New Year, my bf bought a bottle of green tea.  But after a couple of weeks, everyone forgot about the half opened bottle.  And one day... we found 'foreign objects' floating on the top...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmP_rPVzMI/AAAAAAAAANI/fy01PndZosE/s1600-h/27.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmP_rPVzMI/AAAAAAAAANI/fy01PndZosE/s400/27.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195341969250176194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;... machiam like a water lily leaf floating on a dark pond...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;pic of="" food=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pic&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmRUbPVzNI/AAAAAAAAANQ/jhsXz8ZMcPQ/s1600-h/28.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmRUbPVzNI/AAAAAAAAANQ/jhsXz8ZMcPQ/s400/28.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195343425244089554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;me... double eyelids... and a huge zit...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I know I have not posted up any pictures from my recent Bangkok trip during the CNY... but here's something funny from that time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmRqbPVzOI/AAAAAAAAANY/ISRbLVQs-iE/s1600-h/29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmRqbPVzOI/AAAAAAAAANY/ISRbLVQs-iE/s400/29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195343803201211618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;very innocent textile store...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmSHrPVzPI/AAAAAAAAANg/Uh6xYH8nKzQ/s1600-h/30.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmSHrPVzPI/AAAAAAAAANg/Uh6xYH8nKzQ/s400/30.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195344305712385266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Melson very amused and insisted on taking a picture...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmSQ7PVzQI/AAAAAAAAANo/7eblDYxVWzo/s1600-h/31.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmSQ7PVzQI/AAAAAAAAANo/7eblDYxVWzo/s400/31.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195344464626175234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hahhahahahhaa...!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And also, from a temple in Bangkok...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmTKrPVzRI/AAAAAAAAANw/DHoyGOe4zh0/s1600-h/32.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmTKrPVzRI/AAAAAAAAANw/DHoyGOe4zh0/s400/32.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195345456763620626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;scary message on a ticket...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a pic of Dummy (insider joke between me &amp;amp; bf)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmVJ7PVzTI/AAAAAAAAAOA/DxWI3DVsnPg/s1600-h/33.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmVJ7PVzTI/AAAAAAAAAOA/DxWI3DVsnPg/s400/33.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195347642901974322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;him wearing a skirt... or towel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all folks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I no longer have blogging stamina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but I believe this blog is long enough... hehehehehhehehehe...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Till next time!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-1603033058225621614?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/1603033058225621614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=1603033058225621614' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/1603033058225621614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/1603033058225621614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/05/labor-day-family-outing-other-old.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SBmOPrPVzKI/AAAAAAAAAM4/HU4jQO-kZE8/s72-c/25.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-3682780963058734516</id><published>2008-04-29T20:26:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T21:21:13.147+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;A 'Borrowed' Bucket List&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I like to copycat.  So, sue me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know I'm too busy to blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(then i wonder, what am I doing now?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still too busy, but it's more like, I'm sick of working right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; a crappy employee)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But but but... actually, I should give myself MORE credit &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;becuz&lt;/span&gt; I have tolerated crap at work for 1yr 8&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;mths&lt;/span&gt;.  And somehow, it's getting harder &amp;amp; harder to face my work.  Especially with my low pay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(but I have to remember that my manager has helped me to get more increment than others)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;knowwwwwwwww&lt;/span&gt;... but the problem is, there are other &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ppl&lt;/span&gt; in the company who are doing much lesser work for higher pay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(that's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;becuz&lt;/span&gt; they work smart and I work hard)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And besides, I got more increment, but I also gotten twice the workload.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(stop whining, I'm such a weakling)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I'm not!  If I was a weakling, I would have resigned long time back!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(just blame it on my NO determination)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's NOT that I don't have any determination, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;.  But it's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;becuz&lt;/span&gt; of all the improper &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;mgmt&lt;/span&gt; planning &amp;amp; nothing being done with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;workflow&lt;/span&gt; &amp;amp; its processes &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;lor&lt;/span&gt;.  Imagine you have to clear the same shit everyday of your life when actually something could have been done to improve things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(since like that, then next time I'm just going to do things on my own time own schedule)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cannot &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;lahhhhh&lt;/span&gt;.  As long as I'm working here, I have to give 100%.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(yeah right)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;.  At least 80% on some days.  Nobody can come to work a hundred percent EVERYDAY &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;wat&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(sounds reasonable)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It IS reasonable &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;lor&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And THAT is why I need a Bucket List too (but too lazy to come up with one right now).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think from the rate I'm going, I might be either:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a)   going crazy soon from arguing with myself everyday&lt;br /&gt;b)  die early from stress-related illnesses&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, I read &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Annur's&lt;/span&gt; blog and I saw she has this post on her Bucket List (see &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Annur&lt;/span&gt;, I still want to know what's going on in your life).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOWEVER, I'm not going to blog about how I want my Bucket List exactly like hers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually want to share something funny about what I thought about when I was reading her blog post.  I know, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; so weird but i can't help it.  Sometimes, strange thoughts just come to my mind unexpectedly too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;... so here is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Annur's&lt;/span&gt; bucket list.  And some of my immediate thoughts in red as I was reading it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. bungee jumping&lt;br /&gt;2. publish poems &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;(&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;chiem&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;sia&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. attempt public speaking&lt;br /&gt;4. be alone in life and be complacent being alone&lt;br /&gt;5. spend a week with my best friend on a holiday trip&lt;br /&gt;6. compose a song&lt;br /&gt;7. win an award &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;(seriously??  what kind of award?  sounds a bit ' Ms Universe')&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. embrace the world &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;(...*paused a little here*... wondering what it meant by embrace the world.. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;, moving on)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. dance in the middle of the busiest road to my own song &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;(shit, sometimes I thought of doing that too)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. be in two places at one time &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;(&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;hmm&lt;/span&gt;... Heroes dun have anybody who has this power yet)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. support a child to pursue studies in either local or overseas school &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;(i rather keep the money &amp;amp; spend on the holiday in point 5)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. set up my fundraiser to buy books for kids all over&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; &lt;em&gt;(&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;awwww&lt;/span&gt;... so SWEET!  actually i thought about setting up my own children's home if i was filthy rich)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. be with a critically sick patient till their last breath &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;(&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;wah&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. forge a friendship with an Aids victim/carrier/patient &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;(... *a reluctant HUH*)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. scream at the top of my lungs in an isolate place &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;(&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;hahaha&lt;/span&gt;... so some reason, this is funny to me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;becuz&lt;/span&gt; I can imagine &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;Annur&lt;/span&gt; screaming in a cartoon way)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. migrate to Medina&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ff0000;"&gt; (where is Medina??)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... and then I read further down her blog post... and she wrote this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I should keep this bucket list. Maybe I would achieve all of them. Maybe I won't. If I pass on without finishing the list, I just hope someday I do have someone I can trust my life with to ask a huge favour from that individual to help me finish the list for me. Maybe I should put that in the list, 17. to know someone I can trust my life with."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... ... ...  you dun see anything funny???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;.  How about I highlight the funny part?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I should keep this bucket list. Maybe I would achieve all of them. Maybe I won't. &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;If I pass on without finishing the list&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;I just hope someday I do have someone I can trust my life with&lt;/span&gt; to ask a huge favour from that individual &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;to help me finish the list for me&lt;/span&gt;. Maybe I should put that in the list, 17. to know someone I can trust my life with."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... still nothing funny &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;meh&lt;/span&gt;???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;.  Then maybe it's just me.  First, let me explain that as I read her Bucket List, I was imagining that the Bucket List was mine.  So when I read the words (which I highlighted in yellow), this thought suddenly stuck me,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;wahhhh&lt;/span&gt;... I confirm won't do point 14.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Then before I die, I go to my most favourite person and say " eh, do point 14 for me".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I think the person will kick me in the head and ask me go and die faster.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I die already &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;nevermind&lt;/span&gt;, still want to make my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;fav&lt;/span&gt; person get the risk of AIDS.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;.  Let me explain myself further.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am NOT making fun of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;Annur&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe she has the super pure intention of doing 1 extremely noble deed in her life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for me, I don't think... ... wait... ... I CONFIRM GUARANTEE, PLUS CHOP that coming in contact with an AIDS patient is NOWHERE on my list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm just not as noble as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;Annur&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this is me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;Safety Always First&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; (and I read this huge &lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Safety Always First&lt;/span&gt; signboard at my workplace everyday, but dunno why still got &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;ppl&lt;/span&gt; get injured so often, but personally, I got brainwashed &amp;amp; this is now my life's motto).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't mind donating to AIDS patients in some kind of fundraiser thingy.  But... to come in contact with them?  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;errrrrrrrr&lt;/span&gt;... PASS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;eh wait... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;Annur&lt;/span&gt; said, "forge a friendship with an Aids victim/carrier/patient"... ... but she didn't say HOW.  So means that I can still be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;penpals&lt;/span&gt; with an AIDS patient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;SIBEY&lt;/span&gt; GOOD IDEA, MAN!!!  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, I can do point 14 too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT... on the condition that the AIDS patient is an innocent victim.  For example, if a newborn got infected by his promiscuous mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if the AIDS patient got AIDS due to fucking around / getting sex from hookers / etc, then I will personally make them die faster, so that the world will be a better place and maybe then, I can do point 8.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-3682780963058734516?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/3682780963058734516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=3682780963058734516' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/3682780963058734516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/3682780963058734516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/04/borrowed-bucket-list-yes-i-like-to.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-8189776570036282193</id><published>2008-04-22T09:57:00.024+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T10:22:01.531+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Taking Care of Your Baby&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sent this some time back and I thought it was damn funny, so I'll just share it with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1G5bPVydI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/WJFfyujJDy4/s1600-h/ATT128841.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1G5bPVydI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/WJFfyujJDy4/s400/ATT128841.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191883897806637522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1HF7PVyeI/AAAAAAAAAHY/lYZ2NW_1c7g/s1600-h/ATT128842.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1HF7PVyeI/AAAAAAAAAHY/lYZ2NW_1c7g/s400/ATT128842.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191884112555002338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(for some reason, i think the baby looks damn happy to be carried from the head...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1HLbPVyfI/AAAAAAAAAHg/qyDrE-UftNA/s1600-h/ATT128843.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1HLbPVyfI/AAAAAAAAAHg/qyDrE-UftNA/s400/ATT128843.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191884207044282866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(look at the baby's face... he looks DAMN cross lor!&lt;br /&gt;maybe becuz his cute chubby cheeks are resting on the chess table...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1HdrPVygI/AAAAAAAAAHo/jAdUBlsoTyQ/s1600-h/ATT128845.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1HdrPVygI/AAAAAAAAAHo/jAdUBlsoTyQ/s400/ATT128845.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191884520576895490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1HkLPVyhI/AAAAAAAAAHw/gb5oSFwuBww/s1600-h/ATT128844.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1HkLPVyhI/AAAAAAAAAHw/gb5oSFwuBww/s400/ATT128844.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191884632246045202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1Hs7PVyiI/AAAAAAAAAH4/nDBU2r1GhYQ/s1600-h/ATT128846.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1Hs7PVyiI/AAAAAAAAAH4/nDBU2r1GhYQ/s400/ATT128846.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191884782569900578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1HyrPVyjI/AAAAAAAAAIA/34qeq-0MjVE/s1600-h/ATT128847.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1HyrPVyjI/AAAAAAAAAIA/34qeq-0MjVE/s400/ATT128847.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191884881354148402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1H57PVykI/AAAAAAAAAII/h10VsVoAc_4/s1600-h/ATT128848.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1H57PVykI/AAAAAAAAAII/h10VsVoAc_4/s400/ATT128848.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191885005908200002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1IOrPVynI/AAAAAAAAAIg/iu13lDkRIrE/s1600-h/ATT128852.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1IOrPVynI/AAAAAAAAAIg/iu13lDkRIrE/s400/ATT128852.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191885362390485618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(is it me... or is that baby actually doing a 'thumbs up' sign to the XXX alcohol??)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1IILPVymI/AAAAAAAAAIY/cAtF0LxGpe0/s1600-h/ATT128850.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1IILPVymI/AAAAAAAAAIY/cAtF0LxGpe0/s400/ATT128850.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191885250721335906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1IDrPVylI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/RqxmAn7_wDc/s1600-h/ATT128849.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1IDrPVylI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/RqxmAn7_wDc/s400/ATT128849.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191885173411924562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1JBLPVytI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/axuAn4kU4Xk/s1600-h/ATT128858.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1JBLPVytI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/axuAn4kU4Xk/s400/ATT128858.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191886229973879506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1I7LPVysI/AAAAAAAAAJI/EoNok4BvCx4/s1600-h/ATT128857.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1I7LPVysI/AAAAAAAAAJI/EoNok4BvCx4/s400/ATT128857.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191886126894664386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(i am sure this is actually happening to some babies!!!&lt;br /&gt;maybe this is how some ppl got big nostrils...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1I27PVyrI/AAAAAAAAAJA/BWBrn5W7DGo/s1600-h/ATT128856.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1I27PVyrI/AAAAAAAAAJA/BWBrn5W7DGo/s400/ATT128856.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191886053880220338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1IwrPVyqI/AAAAAAAAAI4/dKZMcwiOxPw/s1600-h/ATT128855.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1IwrPVyqI/AAAAAAAAAI4/dKZMcwiOxPw/s400/ATT128855.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191885946506037922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(this is my favourite!!!&lt;br /&gt;the look on the baby's smiling face is DAMN cute.&lt;br /&gt;this is also how Julia Roberts got her big wide smile... ladies &amp;amp; gentlemen, the mystery is solved...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1IsrPVypI/AAAAAAAAAIw/fp8op2K2Rfw/s1600-h/ATT128854.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1IsrPVypI/AAAAAAAAAIw/fp8op2K2Rfw/s400/ATT128854.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191885877786561170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(they are probably bonding over the XXX alcohol... see how 'high' the mother is...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1IobPVyoI/AAAAAAAAAIo/IWqL9UvsyYo/s1600-h/ATT128853.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1IobPVyoI/AAAAAAAAAIo/IWqL9UvsyYo/s400/ATT128853.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191885804772117122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(and actually TV is not a bad idea!!!  I don't think letting babies watch tv is a bad idea... unless the movie is Dumb &amp;amp; Dumber... or Hannibal... or Fear Factor...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1KXbPVyxI/AAAAAAAAAJw/hamyC08mYdc/s1600-h/ATT128866.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1KXbPVyxI/AAAAAAAAAJw/hamyC08mYdc/s400/ATT128866.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191887711737596690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1KQ7PVywI/AAAAAAAAAJo/oTJZGhvcmIY/s1600-h/ATT128865.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1KQ7PVywI/AAAAAAAAAJo/oTJZGhvcmIY/s400/ATT128865.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191887600068446978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1KKrPVyvI/AAAAAAAAAJg/crTcvBzQj4E/s1600-h/ATT128863.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1KKrPVyvI/AAAAAAAAAJg/crTcvBzQj4E/s400/ATT128863.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191887492694264562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1KF7PVyuI/AAAAAAAAAJY/sYsPDIU8mrM/s1600-h/ATT128861.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1KF7PVyuI/AAAAAAAAAJY/sYsPDIU8mrM/s400/ATT128861.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191887411089885922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(this is damn gross... i wonder who drew this...&lt;br /&gt;the father looks so horny while doing that...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all folks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully this will make up for lost blog time in the past few months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hahahaha..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-8189776570036282193?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/8189776570036282193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=8189776570036282193' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8189776570036282193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8189776570036282193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/04/taking-care-of-your-baby-i-was-sent.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/SA1G5bPVydI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/WJFfyujJDy4/s72-c/ATT128841.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-8927788946171742470</id><published>2008-04-14T11:17:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-14T12:33:49.414+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Long Time No Blog, so Here's A Quick Update&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe nobody is even checking in on my blog anymore.  But... JUST IN CASE anyone still reads it, I'll still blog for now.  Mainly, I just need to rant about all that has happened to me these past few months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been a very busy 2008 for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much rubbish to do, so much crap to take &amp;amp; so many idiots to deal with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work has been overloading due to the fact that ppl can't keep track of their work properly.  They don't follow-up on their own work.  The worst thing is that ppl seem to do first and create a whole bunch of stupid problems, then they think about how to solve problems in a mad rush.  The best part is they get YOU to clear the mess, while they sit around and use their mouths to stress you out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like the same concept as maxing out your credit limit and when the bill comes, then you start to '&lt;em&gt;uh oh now what&lt;/em&gt;', then these ppl start to call YOU and borrow money from YOU to pay off their debts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I really feel that I have had ENOUGH of this stupid planning... ... oh sorry, it's not even call &lt;em&gt;PLANNING&lt;/em&gt;, becuz if it is, then things will not be so disorganized at work.  Some guy told us that he wanted us to '&lt;em&gt;fly&lt;/em&gt;' with him at work becuz he's always on the go in a fast pace, so we should speed up our work.  I say, it is more like flapping your arms wildly and running around aimlessly until you keep hitting a brick wall over and over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why I'm still here.  Probably when one stays too long in a bad situation, you tend to subconsciously LIKE the abuse.  Or it is probably due to the fact that I hate giving up on tough situations becuz it makes me look weak and might seem that I'm running away when the going gets rough.  But then again, how much is enough?  I think I'll give this another chance.  The whole of 2008.  After that, I'll see how much my efforts are appreciated by the company.  If all my hard work is for nothing, then I guess it's time for me to look for greener pastures... NEARER to home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was a situation where somebody actually took my metal fork without asking for permission.  And then stuck it into a cabinet to fix it like my fork was a screwdriver.  I threw that fork away.  Once it has been abused in some dirty cabinet, I could never look at my eating utensil the same way again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother's birthday is this Saturday.  I haven't gotten him anything.  Have to discuss this with Gina Lau.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything is going okay with me &amp;amp; my boyfriend.  He's so funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss the people I used to hang out with.  It used to be fun and carefree.  All those nonsense joking around and running about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should go to the gym soon.  Or swimming.  But lonely to go alone + lazy + nobody to motivate me to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More updates next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh shit, I forgot to post up pictures for the Bangkok trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok.  Next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-8927788946171742470?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/8927788946171742470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=8927788946171742470' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8927788946171742470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8927788946171742470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/04/long-time-no-blog-so-heres-quick-update.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-6893128831561935810</id><published>2008-02-06T20:49:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T21:06:54.844+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="2" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;My Shocking News on CJ7&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know that Stephen Chow's movie??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like... ... ... THIS one??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a sabprocessed="1" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/R6mtKaOwp8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/686mWq8eSv4/s1600-h/cj7-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img sabprocessed="1" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 269px; height: 160px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/R6mtKaOwp8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/686mWq8eSv4/s400/cj7-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163848842108512194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephan Chow is the father who brought home an alien as a pet for his son.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a sabprocessed="1" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/R6mvcaOwp9I/AAAAAAAAAEg/v8O8d7D9P0I/s1600-h/cj7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img sabprocessed="1" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/R6mvcaOwp9I/AAAAAAAAAEg/v8O8d7D9P0I/s400/cj7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163851350369413074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her name is Xu Jiao.  And in this movie, she crossed gender to play his son.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh my god.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I first watched the trailer, I thought IT was really a boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's very very good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to watch it on the 1st day of CNY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-6893128831561935810?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/6893128831561935810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=6893128831561935810' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6893128831561935810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6893128831561935810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-shocking-news-on-cj7-you-know-that.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/R6mtKaOwp8I/AAAAAAAAAEY/686mWq8eSv4/s72-c/cj7-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-2809706572491449817</id><published>2008-01-18T20:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-18T21:07:45.671+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;SKINNY &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;RULEZ&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate to say this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But skinny DOES rule the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just look at &lt;a href="http://www.cwtv.com/shows/americas-next-top-model"&gt;America's Next Top Model&lt;/a&gt;.  And what do you see?  &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;SKINNY&lt;/span&gt; girls.  Sure there are some PLUS size models.  BUT THEY NEVER WIN (&lt;em&gt;yet&lt;/em&gt;).  And these fatties are always looking at all those stick-thin girls and thinking to themselves, "&lt;em&gt;shit i wish my body was like that&lt;/em&gt;".  These skinny girls hardly have any boobs.  They have bony shoulders.  Ultra-flat tummies.  And they have twiggy arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actresses &amp;amp; models whom you think are NORMAL size, were asked by producers &amp;amp; managers to LOSE WEIGHT to the point of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;anorexic before they will be put on a show.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;In one reality TV on recruiting models, one of the judges said, "&lt;em&gt;she makes cheap clothes look like Versace becuz she's so skinny&lt;/em&gt;".  And the judge went on to comment on another girl, "&lt;em&gt;she needs to lose weight becuz she makes the clothes look frumpy&lt;/em&gt;".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;So I wonder, why am I being picked on for being skinny?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;This 200-pound girl (&lt;em&gt;seriously damn fat&lt;/em&gt;) actually put her puffy hand on my shoulder and said that I am &lt;em&gt;'really damn skinny'&lt;/em&gt;.  And I'm thinking to myself, "&lt;em&gt;and you are really damn fat&lt;/em&gt;".  This girl even has problems getting back on her feet from a squatting position.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fark this shit, man.  &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Just becuz I can squat and stand easily doesn't give you the right to comment on MY model-like body type (&lt;em&gt;p.s: pls see above on America's Next Top Model&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;And this short girl with tree trunk legs said that my arms look like it can be snapped like a twig.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;What the... *toot*.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Just becuz I need to use a chainsaw on your legs, doesn't give you the right to comment on my arms (&lt;em&gt;p.s: pls see above regarding skinny girls make cheap clothes look damn bloody expensive&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing is that I have NEVER EVER commented on anyone's fatty'ness.  Simply becuz... it's RUDE.  So what makes these ppl think that they can just freely insult another person on their body?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But of course, when they go overboard with their comments, I will lash out a few insults on my own and eventually make them cry.  Either that, or I'll go crying to my closest friends and gossip about the person who insulted me and hurt my feelings and make me feel lowly about myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I admit.  I'm no angel.  I can be extremely mean with my words, but I choose not to use this bitch power which I naturally possess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I try to convince myself that ppl make skinny jokes about me becuz they themselves feel low self-esteem about themselves.  And therefore, they have to pick on somebody else which they WISH they were, but can never be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like, I always wanted big boobs.  So when I see Tyra Banks and her fleshy chest, I will tell Tyra that her boobs will droop down to her pussy when she's older becuz her breasts are so big.  (&lt;em&gt;Red Alert:  too much envy will turn into pure evil jealousy&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I tell myself that ppl tell me that I'm so skinny is becuz they are jealous that I don't have unwanted fats on my body and skinny ppl can carry off clothes better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But at times, how to convince myself this if they KEEP commenting??  HUH?!  YOU TELL ME LAH???  HOW TO???  Obviously I will get angry, right?  knn... ccb...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywayz...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm having PMS... even when it's not time for PMS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-2809706572491449817?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/2809706572491449817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=2809706572491449817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/2809706572491449817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/2809706572491449817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/01/skinny-rulez-i-hate-to-say-this.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-6060258904296809412</id><published>2008-01-11T14:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-11T15:44:12.735+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Word of Advice - to the Working World&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The saying is true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is indeed a dog eat dog world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every man for himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there is another saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do unto others like how you want others to do unto you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the beginning, my workplace started out to be a MOSTLY pleasant environment to work in.  However, recently, it started to become MOSTLY unpleasant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it is due to the fact that there are more &amp;amp; more workload + job frustrations.  And also, maybe the GM has been a little too hard on his managers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus, the managers started to vent their frustrations on the executives and the executives vent their frustrations on the lower level staffs.  And since the lower level staffs do not have anyone lower to vent on, they vent on each other who are on the same level.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a vicious chain reaction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are lesser patience.  Lesser tolerance.  Increased workload.  Increased frustrations.  And an increase in unhappy employees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All these for higher profit.  More bonus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many times, we get scolded for nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instructions were not passed down properly.  And when you take the initiative to go and clarify for more information, you get scolding becuz your superior thinks that you're dumb or not paying careful attention to her when she's talking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Bottom Line:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;As hard as the working environment can be, we must always take conscious effort not to be consumed by it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Just becuz other ppl treat you like a worthless piece of crap, does not mean that you have to be consumed that attitude and pass that attitude onto another person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Mental Note to self:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Be cool.  Be calm.  Be tolerant.  Be patient.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-6060258904296809412?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/6060258904296809412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=6060258904296809412' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6060258904296809412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6060258904296809412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/01/word-of-advice-to-working-world-saying.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-7274702832079398492</id><published>2008-01-03T10:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-03T17:27:51.120+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;A Really Cool Story&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Firstly, I want to start off by saying... I DETEST CHINA PEOPLE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is becuz:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(a) China ppl are so determined to find a Singaporean to marry - &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;i don't even need to explain this point becuz everyone already knows this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(b) China men are so full of complains - &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;i work with china male workers and they seem to really really complain. A LOT. And the way they complain is as if WE SINGAPOREANS have FORCED them to look for WORK HERE IN SINGAPORE. Excuse me? Did WE SINGAPOREANS put a knife to your throat and drag you by the balls to work like slaves here? No. YOU WERE WILLING. So shut the fark up and accept the fact that you drive a forklift and do manual labor. If you were smarter, you would have been in IT Consulting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(c) China women only know how to prostitute themselves. I hate prostitutes.  I dun know why. I just feel that they make this whole world so dirty - &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;i know i know, if there are no prostitutes, there will be a lot more rape cases in the world. Whatever. I know hookers are for men who cant get girls. But the fact that there ARE hookers around, normal men will just try them out of curiousity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(d) China women agressively seduce Singaporean men becuz of point (a) - &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;damn sluts. If the law was in my hands, I'll lock all the hookers / nightclub prostitutes / China women in a cage and squirt kerosene on them and set them on fire. And if rape cases go up becuz there are no more cheap sluts, I'll gather the rapists and put them in a cage and squirt kerosene on them and set them on fire. After this cruel but justice act, I'm sure the world will be a cleaner and more lawful place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Ok.  Now let me tell you a cool story:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine Fat Bastard from Austin Powers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fat Bastard can't get a girl due to the fact that he is fat &amp;amp; ugly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sweaty. Hairy. Lack of social skills.  Has fatty BO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fat Bastard cannot stand the fact that he is still a virgin at 25. Plus his balls are really turning blue. He cannot masturbate recently becuz he had wanked off so much that his&lt;em&gt; lan jiao&lt;/em&gt; skin has exfoliated badly and started to feel really tender and sore. Besides, his mother has found all his XXX-DVDs and has kept it for herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therefore, feeling sorry for himself, he decided to try out prostitution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1st time - "cannot believe i am having sex" - &lt;em&gt;loser&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;2nd time - "cannot wait to come back again"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;3rd to 8th times - "die... addicted liao..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;9th to uncountable times - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"i know why i'm addicted liao. These hookers make me feel like I'm so wanted and desired by them" - &lt;em&gt;yeah right, becuz you are their source of income wat... loser...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unknown to Fat Bastard, he had already contracted some itchy, rotting sexual disease.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And since no horny fat ugly bastard will go to the same hooker, about 20 other hookers have contracted the same itchy, rotting sexual disease from Fat Bastard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then here comes Jay Chou. A nice young man. Not so handsome, but still attractive to the female population. He had a gf, but they broke up a few months ago. And recently, he has been feeling a little too horny for his own good and masturbation is not as good as the real thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jay Chou has a group of army buddies who hang out together on weekends. They introduced the world of Geylang night activities to Jay Chou... drinking... nightclubs... women who are so willing to let you touch all over... women who make you feel so loved and desired.  Suddenly, Jay Chou feels so popular and well-liked.  Plus he can touch different girls almost ever night.  It feels like eating from a different patch of grass each time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jay Chou thought, "&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;wahhh... the girls there really have such nice smooth touchable bodies.  I remember my ex-gf Jolin had big boobs too... SHIOK AH.  I am in Men's Heaven&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few years later, Jay Chou found a really really nice sweet loving gf. He really loves her a lot. They plan to get married and have a happy family with 2 kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, one day, his gf fell ill. The doctors then said that she had contracted AIDS + Herpes. And upon tracing further, it was from Jay Chou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jay Chou thought, "&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;no wonder my lan jiao so itchy and red... and sometimes, it smells so bad... i thought it was just sweat&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;...Flashback to few years ago...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a prostitute called Puah Chi By, who had contracted AIDS from one of her customers called Phua Chu Kang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One night, a guy called Fat Bastard came to pay her for sex.  Puah Chi By could tell that he was still a virgin becuz he couldn't even find her pussy... ... even though it was so damn big and loose and smelly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fat Bastard then proceeded to sleep with other prostitutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of those cheap sluts was called Chao Hai, who had really smooth skin with big boobs and an angel face. She was so pretty and sexy that Fat Bastard went back to play with her a lot more times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One rainy stormy night, Fat Bastard looked for Chao Hai again. After he was done with her, Chao Hai cursed and sweared at her bad luck, "&lt;span style="color:#999900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ka ni na... why must always kenna this kind of smelly fat pig leh??? Before this stupid fatty come in, I got to service this old wrinkled man with extreme body odor who lick me all over with his smelly saliva.  ka ni na... got gum disease one is it&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To her surprise, her next customer was so cute and young. Unbelievable. So seldom got such a nice looking guy come for paid sex. Must be just broke up with gf, so must be feeling horny lah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... Back to Present...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's how Jay Chou contracted AIDS.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And how he passed it on to his one true love. His gf got super furious at him. Then she committed suicide by slicing her wrists becuz there is nothing worth living for anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jay Chou bang balls. Becuz he is farked for life. He knows he cannot find another sweet loving gf. His future is gone. He was supposed to go to Taiwan to be a famous singer, but now he can't.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since he can't do anything useful in life, he continues to go for prostitution becuz that's the only way he can satisfy himself until the day he dies from the sexual disease.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in the world of prostitution, he meets a regular customer called Phua Chu Kang.  After chatting, Phua Chu Kang told Jay Chou that he was doing parquet flooring and he was supposed to be the best in Singapore &amp;amp; JB and some say, Batam.  However, along the road of his success, 'SOMETHING HAPPENED' and PCK had to give up his parquet flooring dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hearing this, Jay Chow felt that they have so much in common.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And they become good friends who hang out together at nightclubs with women who desire them so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-7274702832079398492?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/7274702832079398492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=7274702832079398492' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/7274702832079398492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/7274702832079398492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/01/really-cool-story-firstly-i-want-to.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-8427136536290724254</id><published>2008-01-01T20:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-01T21:31:29.666+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="3" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="2" style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;New Year's Day &amp;amp; SPCA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was out on the eve, celebrating with my bf and his friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We watched &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;I AM LEGEND&lt;/span&gt;, starring Will Smith.  Then we went counting down the new year somewhere in Tanjong Pagar, but not being able to see the fireworks, we blasted the 91.3 on the car stereo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wat a typical way to say goodbye to the passing year &amp;amp; in welcoming 2008.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, the 1st big thing which I did on New Year's Day was to call the SPCA, reporting the abuse of a harmless rabbit in Woodlands Circle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gina has already blogged about it.  So click &lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" sabprocessed="1" href="http://elixirofdeath.wordpress.com/2008/01/01/animal-cruelty/"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt; to read it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;In summary:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;The rabbit was put in a cage and left OUTSIDE the house.  From what I understand, it could NOT stand.  And when my brother &amp;amp; his gf  put some food in front of the rabbit, it 'leopard crawled' to the food and ate like it had been starving.  And according to his gf, the rabbit was still hopping around in the cage when she saw it the previous day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;After hearing this, I felt so much pity for the rabbit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;HOW COULD ANYONE ACTUALLY BREAK THE RABBIT'S LEGS????&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;My brother got the address of the owner from his gf.  And I called SPCA to report this incident.  The guy at SPCA told me that he will send someone over to pick it up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Impt Note:  I called SPCA at around &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;1.45am&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt; on 01/01/2008.  Yes.  They ARE open 24hrs.  And they ARE efficient in answering calls involving animal abuse, distress, injury, illness, etc.  The number to call is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;6287 5355&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;.  So DO NOT wait till 'office hours' before calling them for help, as it might already been too late.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't really sleep well the whole night.  And the minute I woke up, I called SPCA again to check up on the rabbit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This lady called Anna, was very polite and helpful.  She tried to find out more information on the poor little harmless rabbit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, she told me that the rabbit was NOT abused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;.&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.. i know... i was like, 'huh???'...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She told me that the rabbit belonged to someone.  And that the owner told SPCA that the rabbit was NOT abused.  It was just born with deformed legs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;... wtf, right???...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This Anna from SPCA then told me to get my brother's gf to call her to reconfirm if the rabbit's condition had gotten worse or something.  I had told my brother to tell his gf about it.  But I don't know what was the outcome.  Maybe they were afraid of getting into trouble with the owner or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok.  I wasn't embarrassed becuz I had accidentally reported a misunderstood abuse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the problem was... ... ... I was DAMN confused and unconvinced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Firstly, my brother's gf said tat she saw that the rabbit was able to hop around in its cage just the previous day.  So how can the rabbit be lying flat on its stomach now?  How come the rabbit showed that it was STARVING when they tried to feed it some food???  I don't believe that my brother's gf was lying about it becuz why would anyone lie about something like that.  So it only means that:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(1)  She didn't manage to take a closer look at the rabbit the previous day &amp;amp; thought that it was ok. - &lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;genuine mistake...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;(2)  The rabbit suddenly became worse in its handicapped condition. - &lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;farked up owner did not take care of it properly...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;(3)  The rabbit HAD BEEN abused. The owner tried to cover it up by saying that it had deformed legs. - &lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;if this is the case, i hope the owner is cursed to eternal hell...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Secondly, if the owner was SO KIND to still take care of the deformed rabbit (&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;despite its handicap&lt;/span&gt;), then WHY DID THE OWNER LEAVE THE RABBIT &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;OUTSIDE&lt;/span&gt; THE HOUSE???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aren't they afraid that crazy ppl who walked past their house would torture the innocent rabbit?  Even if the probability of crazy ppl is low, but haven't they thought of the ever-changing weather?  The rabbit would be cold from strong winds... it could be wet from the rain that splatters into the exposed corridors.  And rabbits are very very timid creatures (&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;trust me, i know becuz i have a rabbit too&lt;/span&gt;).  The rabbit could get scared or shocked constantly with the sudden noises in its surroundings.  And ppl who walk past might disturb the rabbit.  Children might poke at it.  The rabbit is so vulnerable when the owner keeps it outdoors like this!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, just being CURIOUS.  Did the ppl from SPCA actually inspect the rabbit?  Did it really have deformed legs?  And if it DID HAVE deformed legs, then did they look around its living quarters &amp;amp; surroundings to see if it was suitable??  Should a pet be left outside the house??  Was food &amp;amp; water conveniently placed, so that the rabbit will have no trouble in reaching its food / water??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, for god's sake, if you had nonfunctional limbs, I'm sure you would like to be able to reach your food without leopard-crawling your way across the room, right???  As a human, you have ppl who look after your needs.  But this rabbit lives in the corridor!  So what if it lives in a tiny cage???  Its BUTT was FACING TOWARDS its FOOD BOWL.  So this means that the poor rabbit with DEFORMED LEGS had to somehow twist &amp;amp; turn around 180 degrees to be able to EAT.  No wonder it ate like it was STARVING when my brother &amp;amp; his gf put some food in front of its mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To me, it's still cruelty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The owner could have put the rabbit INSIDE the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But still, I guess the impt message to be put across here is that pets are living things too.  Irregardless whether they have deformities or not.  I know the owner thought that he was being nice in keeping it.  But personally, I do not think that keeping a deformed rabbit OUTSIDE the house is appropriate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And also, I hope that everyone out there is aware that &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;SPCA is 24 hours&lt;/span&gt;.  Just becuz it's a holiday, or it's late at night... ... doesn't mean that they heck care if animals are sick or being abused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You might not be sure if the animal is being abused, but as long as you have a doubt about it, I believe it is our responsibility to report it.  It is better to be careful, rather than let it happen, then you report.  By then, it might already been too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, this is like one of those &lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Preventing Terrorists Attacks&lt;/span&gt; advertisements that you see in MRTs and bus interchanges.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="8" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;"See something suspicious?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;(picture of a lonely bag lying on the seat / picture of rabbit with twisted legs in a cage in an open corridor)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;Report it."&lt;/span&gt;&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/16597927-8427136536290724254?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/8427136536290724254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=8427136536290724254' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8427136536290724254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8427136536290724254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2008/01/new-years-day-spca-i-was-out-on-eve.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-6008873915573997991</id><published>2007-12-31T11:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-31T11:47:37.877+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Grouchy New Year's Eve&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;+&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;If We Were All Animals&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno if it's PMS or the lack of attention or wat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm definately feeling super grouchy today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;humph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boyfriend is not giving me enough attention this past whole week becuz he had to work long hours.  Poor thing.  But still.  humph.  I still feel like being a spoilt brat.  I need constant attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think if we were animals...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bf would be a cat.  Becuz he basically is independent and can look after himself.  He doesn't need much attention.  And if you give him too much attention on a day which he doesn't need attention, he'll snarl and scratch your face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, I'm more like a little playful dog (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;omg, i'm saying that i'm a bitch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;).  Towards ppl I like, I need them to come play with me and show that they love me.  FREQUENTLY.  Whereas for strangers and unfamiliar ppl, I hide in my own corner and refuse to play with them and do my own stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my brother will be more like a sloth.  ahahahaha.  Not becuz he's lazy.  But becuz he can practically stay in one same position and NOT move for hours (&lt;em&gt;ie: in front of the computer&lt;/em&gt;).  Plus that contributes to the fact that he has been gaining weight due to NOT moving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister might be a bird.  Just becuz she listens to her mp3 music ALL DAY and sings loudly ALL DAY.  It's like this constant chirp chirp chirp .  And even after you bash her on her head, she's like... chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp... SHUDDUP ALREADY... chirp chirp chirp chirp... *bash bash bash*... chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp... WHY DON'T YOU JUST GIVE UP... chirp chirp chirp chirp... *bash bash bash bash bash bash*... chirp... *BASH*... chirp... *BASH BASH  BASH*... chirp.... *BASHHHHH*... &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;chirp&lt;/span&gt;... *BASHH BASHHHHH*... ... ... &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;chirp&lt;/span&gt;... ... ... and then... she gives one last chirp... ... ... before she... ... ... &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;CHIRPCHIRPCHIRPCHIRPCHIRPCHIRP&lt;/span&gt; again... nooOOOOOOOoooooooOOOOOoooo!!! *stabs self*...&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;ok... i'm just being dramatic.  Actually Gina has a good singing voice, let's all persuade her to join Singapore Idol.&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like having Salted Vegetable Duck Soup from this coffeeshop at Sin Ming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So salty.  So spicy.  So yummy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I know my bf wouldn't want to eat there for lunch becuz he hates salty stuff.  I think he's like allergic to MSG or something.  He likes to eat bland tasteless food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nevermind.  Later I try luck.  See if he wants to go or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Furthermore, I'm feeling grouchy and PMS'sy.  So I think he will let me eat what I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-6008873915573997991?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/6008873915573997991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=6008873915573997991' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6008873915573997991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6008873915573997991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/12/grouchy-new-years-eve-if-we-were-all.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-5772577560238011366</id><published>2007-12-27T10:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T10:45:16.924+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;BELATED XMAS 2007 Blog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just realized that I have not blogged anything about Christmas 2007.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unlike what I did for &lt;a href="http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2006/12/christmas-eve-2006-pictures-finally-i.html"&gt;Christmas 2006&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simply becuz... THERE WERE ABSOLUTELY NO PICTURES TAKEN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe it either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this year is a quiet and aimless Xmas Party for 2 persons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe Melson actually went to some relative's place with an actual turkey and mistletoe and christmas tree + gift exchange. He's so unlike the kind who would participate in any kind of loserish parties that involves aunties &amp;amp; uncles (&lt;em&gt;omg, he might read this... err... just kidding!!!&lt;/em&gt;). Or maybe the reason why he actually went to this heart-warming (&lt;em&gt;yeah right&lt;/em&gt;) party was becuz... ... IT WAS NOT EVEN A RELATIVE'S PLACE, but was in fact, some hot chick's party which he didn't want me to invade becuz he knows that I will ruin any chance of him getting laid. And thus, I was not invited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;humph...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there's John &amp;amp; Wenn who were like, "we cant go", "or maybe we can", "oh then again, maybe not", "ok we decided to go", "opps sorry cant make it", "oh wait now we can", "but then again maybe we wont join you".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;argh...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok ppl, my mood is ruined enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I thought there would be something special, but there isn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, better luck next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-5772577560238011366?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/5772577560238011366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=5772577560238011366' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/5772577560238011366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/5772577560238011366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/12/belated-xmas-2007-i-just-realized-that.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-2407467395796508245</id><published>2007-12-26T17:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-26T17:27:41.784+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Website on Personality Tests&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the link:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.quizbox.com/"&gt;http://www.quizbox.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the tests are freakingly accurate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-2407467395796508245?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/2407467395796508245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=2407467395796508245' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/2407467395796508245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/2407467395796508245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/12/website-on-personality-tests-heres-link.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-6212764386318105361</id><published>2007-12-26T13:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-26T14:12:36.748+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Department Annual Gathering 2007&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our very 1st gathering for HR &amp;amp; Admin Dept.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, pathetically, our dept only has 4 ppl.  And for this gathering, as my manager is on leave, it's only us 3 girls to finish up all the food.  FOOOOOOOD!  GLORIOUS FOOD!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ordered Pizza Hut!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5148157626387811186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/R3HuFciQS3I/AAAAAAAAACA/sfufavphImY/s400/P1010037a.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Although I was semi-ill from flu, but I was still determined to eat unhealthily today. Worked so hard for the whole of 2007, of course must enjoy now, correct or not?!?!?!?  ENJOY FULLY THE COMPANY BENEFITS!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In other words... ... ...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;KIASU LAH!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Being girls and being VAIN, we took a few pictures before feeding our glutton faces.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5148158055884540802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/R3HueciQS4I/AAAAAAAAACI/6uV-VQ_SsDw/s400/P1010038.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(from left: me, Anita &amp;amp; ros)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(p.s:  I know I look damn tut with that hairdo... plus looks like I nvr comb hair.  Maybe cuz I had to activate the self-timer on the digicam &amp;amp; then RUNNNNNN to my picture spot &amp;amp; smile without panting for the photo shot.)&lt;/em&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;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5148158554100747154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/R3Hu7ciQS5I/AAAAAAAAACQ/3q_U8fzaUnY/s400/P1010039.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Everybody saying, "YUM!!!!")&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And so we feast and within an hour, the Department Annual Gathering of 2007 was over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-6212764386318105361?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/6212764386318105361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=6212764386318105361' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6212764386318105361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6212764386318105361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/12/department-annual-gathering-2007-our.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/R3HuFciQS3I/AAAAAAAAACA/sfufavphImY/s72-c/P1010037a.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-3839733889366506802</id><published>2007-12-21T16:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-21T17:00:58.543+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;ASIAN IDOL&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just watched Asian Idol yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course it's the re-run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have the luxury of watching tv that often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH MY GOD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hardy Mirza is so bad at singing and he... actually... WON?!?!?!  *gasp*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vocal not powerful enough lehhhhh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he does have a certain X-factor... some kind of shy, charming, boyish smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But still... omg... how can he win?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are other singers who were better (&lt;em&gt;sorry, the truth hurts deep deep, i know&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit that the guy from India looks like some kind of Bollywood star with his shiny silver jacket and cockadoo hairdo.  Watching him, makes me feel like planting a coconut tree at my void deck.  Dance around in pure delight... shake my boobies left right... and make jerking motions with my head.  Friggin entertaining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, there's this other girl from either Malaysia or Indonesia.  This big eyes-big mouth girl.  Damn her voice is booming.  She practically placed the mike on her forehead and still her voice can be heard 10,000 miles away.  She's good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that viet girl doesn't really have such a hot voice, but she looks so cute when she's singing I LOVE ROCK N ROLL and that made me forget all about her not-so-hot vocals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hardy Hardy Hardy... ... quite a lame performance.  Maybe he's super nervous or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But still he won.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cuz he's Singaporean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm Singaporean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, still I congratulate him.  But dear Hardy, please dance like Bollywood star, project your voice while mike is on forehead and look super cute while performing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then us Singaporeans will be damn proud of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-3839733889366506802?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/3839733889366506802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=3839733889366506802' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/3839733889366506802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/3839733889366506802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/12/asian-idol-i-just-watched-asian-idol.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-3284529282055624570</id><published>2007-12-12T11:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T12:21:05.427+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Wat's the Big Fuss abt Fann Wong's Boobs???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard my colleagues talking about it and ppl discussing about it in the bus / mrt / hawker centre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FANN FANN FANN FANN.... FANN's boobs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it got me curious.  Cuz I don't watch tat much television.  And I hardly flip the newspapers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank god for blogs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read in Wenn's blog about &lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://wenniee.blogspot.com/2007/12/shiny-fann-shiny-boobs.html"&gt;Fann &amp;amp; her shiny boobs&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I saw the video clip in IZ Reloaded's blog on how &lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://izreloaded.blogspot.com/2007/12/fann-wong-shows-off-boobs-at-golden.html"&gt;Fann Wong Shows Off Boobs at Golden Horse&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then my expression was like.... &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;(-_-")&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THIS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;... is what the fuss is about?!?!?!?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that I'm being sour grapes... cuz there's nothing to be sour over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But but but... the boobs aren't that spectacular wat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so they are &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;shiny&lt;/span&gt;.  And the twins have the &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;exact same shape&lt;/span&gt; (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;which you don't really find on most girls, cuz ours are usually one slightly bigger than the other or of different shape&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;).  And her flesh looks &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;taut&lt;/span&gt;.  And her skin is &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;flawless&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; (&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;ok, maybe just a tiny bit of sour grapes&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;.  And most amazingly, her nipples are &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;light pink&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... ... ... ... ... JUST KIDDING!!!  Her nipples can't be seen from anywhere.  What.  You think want to see Fann Wong's nipples so easy, is it.  Later Christopher Lee get drunk and knock you down with his car ah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... wat's the big fuss about Fann Wong's boobs???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one &amp;amp; only reason is just simply... ... it's &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;BOOBS&lt;/span&gt;.  Especially when it belongs to a famous celebrity.  But seriously, as long as it's BOOBS, everyone gets interested in it.  Women stare at boobs for their own comparison.  Men get a reaction in their itchy dicks.  And children want to suck on them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But... CHEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY (again).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you look at Fann's boobs, they are squeezed into that shape by that dress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I wore a dress like that that squeezes my boobs into shape, I think mine is even bigger (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;slightly bigger, but still bigger lor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If Fat Bastard from Austin Powers wore that tight dress that squeezes his chest fats into shape, he would have round bouncy boobs that are huge also lor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therefore, ppl should be talking about FANN WONG's &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#66ffff;"&gt;DRESS&lt;/span&gt;... not her boobs!  Everyone should be out there tearing into malls and searching for &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;THAT&lt;/span&gt; dress, not oogling at her boobs.  Once you've found that dress, *&lt;em&gt;viola&lt;/em&gt;*... you can have boobs too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s:  ok, so I might be feeling a little sour grapes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.p.s:  but I still believe it's the dress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-3284529282055624570?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/3284529282055624570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=3284529282055624570' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/3284529282055624570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/3284529282055624570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/12/wats-big-fuss-abt-fann-wongs-boobs-i.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-8065074900724806445</id><published>2007-11-28T11:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T12:03:13.362+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Unexpected Demise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, it was announced that one of my colleagues had passed away this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is indeed shocking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the receptionist told me, I had to ask her repeatedly (&lt;em&gt;about 5 to 6 times&lt;/em&gt;) before the news sunk in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is shocking becuz this guy hardly went on MC.  He hardly even took time-off to go see doctor.  He exercised regularly.  He was not skinny nor fat.  He was, in fact, fit and lean and slightly muscular.  He had this minor heart problem, but he wasn't on any medication at all.  And when the results showed that he had high cholesterol, he didn't need to take any meds and he still managed to bring his own cholesterol level down to normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was playing badminton with some friends last evening when he suddenly collapsed.  His friends sent him to the hospital and then he passed away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Playing badminton to keep fit, but he died doing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is strange.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His mother, wife &amp;amp; son were in Australia for a holiday.  So until this morning, nobody was around to claim the body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, somebody managed to contact his brother.  I guess he'll be arranging the funeral.  And his family in Australia will be taking the 1st plane back to Singapore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I heard this news about the deceased, I instinctively tried to recollect how was our working relationship.  Were we friendly to each other?  Were we polite?  Have I ever been rude to him?  Was there any unpleasantness between us?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is becuz I wouldn't want to feel bad about him &amp;amp; me having a bad working relationship just before he passed away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, we have had our differences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But recently, it was friendly &amp;amp; polite between us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I felt relieved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like having a huge argument with your partner and then he /she stomps out of the house and gets knocked down by a car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like fighting with your mother and she dies from a heart attack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like screaming at your best friend that he is a big bloody jerk, and then he goes out and gets hit on the head and becomes a retard, so even if you say sorry to him, you know he doesn't understand a single word you say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what I mean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like... this will cause a person to feel guilty &amp;amp; remorseful for the rest of their lives.  No amount of &lt;em&gt;sorry&lt;/em&gt;'s nor &lt;em&gt;i love you&lt;/em&gt;'s will ever make a difference anymore.  There is absolutely NOTHING you can ever do nor say to make things right again.  NOTHING.  FOREVER AND EVER.  NOTHING can make things right.  EVER AGAIN.  NOTHING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;Conclusion:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Always make a conscious effort to do the RIGHT things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Always appreciate the small little things that others do for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never take things / people for granted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never do things that you might regret for the rest of your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-8065074900724806445?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/8065074900724806445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=8065074900724806445' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8065074900724806445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8065074900724806445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/11/unexpected-demise-this-morning-it-was.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-7854252669102025701</id><published>2007-11-22T09:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T11:06:08.352+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Aftermath&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"&lt;em&gt;After you apologize, it will still be me who is still suffering alone from your mistake.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am the one still feeling the pain.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;While you sleep soundly in bed, I cry myself to sleep.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;When you are working at the computer, I am working out how to see past your mistake.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;When you hang out w your friends, I am trying to get thru my sadness.&lt;/em&gt;"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;When parents divorced...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The individual adults move on with their own lives, but the children are the ones who suffer forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;When killers end an innocent life...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even when they get death penalty, the victim's families are the ones who suffer after the the killer's death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;When rapists strike...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even when they get caught by the law, the victim lives in humiliation for the rest of her life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;When an affair is commited...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For one, a surge of excitment.  For the other, life will always be full of resentment &amp;amp; doubt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;When trust is betrayed...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A moment of temptation, will need a lifetime to rebuild the trust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;Conclusion:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is so unfair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-7854252669102025701?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/7854252669102025701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=7854252669102025701' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/7854252669102025701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/7854252669102025701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/11/aftermath-after-you-apologize-it-will.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-4608038690562755663</id><published>2007-11-21T07:56:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T09:33:25.834+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Major Life Changes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the receptionist!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember my post on &lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/11/superwoman-award-i-deserve-this.html"&gt;Superwoman Award&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The receptionist has been absenting herself very often this month. And I even had half a mind to go tell her that her performance is deteriorating and that would affect her increment for this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, yesterday, she went on MC again. YES. AGAIN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She called back to inform us on her MC (&lt;em&gt;of 2 days&lt;/em&gt;) and then she said that the doctor has finally diagnosed that she is going &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt;... ... ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;MENOPAUSE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH MY GOD!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MENOPAUSE MENOPAUSE MENOPAUSE MENOPAUSE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talk about major life changes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From hereon now, this is where the road is leading to an end. Where lush green scenery will soon become a bare &amp;amp; barren desert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your body will start to dry up (&lt;em&gt;specifically, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;nether regions&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). Your skin will start to crinkle up and be all wrinkled. You start looking more and more like the wicked witch from the west (&lt;em&gt;or south, since everything will move closer to the ground&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eww.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is sad. Really sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women should never have to go thru menopause. And worse of all, this process takes a couple of years before it completes its journey. It's like a prisoner who is put on death penalty... but he is to be hanged 5 yrs later. You know you're going to die, but you need to WAIT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then you'll have mood swings. Severe back pain. Feeling pregnant, but you're not. Losing interest in all sexual activities, and even if you want to perform, you'll need to start considering sesame oil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Depressing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therefore, I take back everything bad I said about her in my previous post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suffering from menopause is already tough on her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even me at the age of 28 (&lt;em&gt;oh my goodness, almost 30! oh shit, did i just reveal my age.&lt;/em&gt;), I'm already dreading the day I get it too. Hopefully, it'll be when I'm really really old. Like... just before my deathbed at 70 or 80.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still slippery &amp;amp; wet till I'm 80.&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;em&gt;oh gosh, suddenly stuck me that my siblings &amp;amp; their friends are going to read this&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-4608038690562755663?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/4608038690562755663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=4608038690562755663' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/4608038690562755663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/4608038690562755663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/11/major-life-changes-not-me.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-6800345202702723591</id><published>2007-11-20T12:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T15:49:57.340+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Don't Blame Me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Observations from the world around me:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate it when people do the wrong things. And then they blame you for not trusting them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you find out about what they have done and you ask them why they do it, they blame you for interrogating them like a criminal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the 1st place, if you don't do the wrong things, then NOBODY will doubt you.  If you don't do the wrong things, then NOBODY will ask you any questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why people just cannot get this simple logic in their brain. Look at your own actions first before pushing the blame to others. Or worse, throwing your temper at the innocent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate it when people know that it is the wrong thing... and THEY STILL DO IT.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is wrong with these people?!?!  Super irresponsible and immature. No self-control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why must they know that it is wrong, and they still do it? Very fun, is it. Very &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;shiok&lt;/span&gt;, is it. Or is it very exciting. Or you think that others will not find out what you have done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But they never think that what they do, can bring hurt to others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Selfish. Damn selfish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only care about the pleasures it brings to themselves, but they heck care the feelings of others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't they know that once water is spilled, it can never be recovered? Once a mirror is broken, there will always be cracks? Once you get into an accident, life will never be the same for you again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why must do something that will forever damage another thing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People always want you to change for them. But can they put in the same hard effort to change themselves? &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;CANNOT&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. They can't do it. The most, they can only be good for awhile. Then they go back into their bad habits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter how many good things you do for them, they will &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;fark&lt;/span&gt; care and they will NEVER EVER appreciate you. Instead, they keep telling you how much they respect this stupid bitch for encouraging them... or they cannot lose the friendship of a particular bastard for helping them. And how important this person or that person is in their lives. Ya. Don't come and tell me you respect a woman when she flirts &amp;amp; seduces other men. Don't try to convince people that that man is super nice when he actually cheats on his wife with prostitutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I only respect people with integrity and those who carry themselves properly. So dun ask me to respect people who only know how to use their mouths to TALK. I also know how to talk. Talk is so cheap and so easy. But in other aspects of their character, they are a shitload of crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Question:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once the doubt &amp;amp; suspicion has set in your mind, can you ever bring yourself to trust that person completely? If you have been betrayed by a friend / partner, can you ever forgive them? If you cannot ever trust that person, is it your fault... or is it theirs?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Irony No. 1:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people are a classic case of irony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your ex-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;gf&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;sms&lt;/span&gt; dirty sexy stuff to her secret lover, and you find out, and you get hurt and disgusted by it at the same time. So you decided to break up with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, when you're in another relationship, you talk dirty with another woman. Thus, betraying your own &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;gf&lt;/span&gt; in the same sad disgusting way. And the excuse you give is, "talk only. no other funny things. she's only a FRIEND. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; just trying to make her (&lt;em&gt;personally, I think the proper word is, fucking whore&lt;/em&gt;) happy".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Make her HAPPY?! You mean, you rather make a FEMALE FRIEND happy and break the trust in your own relationship??? Who would believe that lame excuse??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure you need to make her happy. Make her happy so that she will put your dick in her mouth, is it? Sweet talk her, so that she will spread her legs for you, is it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why? Why do this kind of hurtful things to others... when you yourself have that kind of bad experiences before? Are these people sick or what????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Irony No. 2:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And then there are people who have been constantly cheating on their bf / &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;gf&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;While the bf is away at work, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;gf&lt;/span&gt; chats online and meets online male friends.  And she dresses up and get all excited about meeting these good-looking hunky men.  Then just before her bf gets off work, she rushes home and pretends that she has been home all these while.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When the bf accuses her of cheating and frolicking around outside with other men, she turns the table around and SCOLDS the bf for not trusting her.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(&lt;em&gt;hello, but you DID meet up with strange young men whom you met on the net.  he has a SOLID reason for not trusting you...)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then when the bf spot-checks her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;sms'es&lt;/span&gt; and finds some affectionate sweet talk, she flares up at him and said that they're JUST FRIENDS.  And that he is wrong for spot-checking on her.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(&lt;em&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;wtf&lt;/span&gt;, if you got nothing to hide, then you won't mind your bf conducting spot-checks, right???which part do you not get??  You DID do something wrong!  why go and yell at the poor guy?!  he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;kenna&lt;/span&gt; wear &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;lu&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;mao&lt;/span&gt; (green hat) already and still must &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;kenna&lt;/span&gt; fire by you...&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And when they get into a fiery &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;augument&lt;/span&gt; about her infidelity, she refuses to talk to him until he apologizes for doubting her.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(&lt;em&gt;WHERE IS THE JUSTICE IN THIS WORLD?!  It's like asking the victim to go back to the rapist and asked to be raped &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;somemore&lt;/span&gt; and this time, make it more brutal than the last.&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Irony No. 3:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a stupid myth about how virgins can cure AIDS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And all the people who had rotting dicks went around raping women. And the worst part was, in order to ENSURE that the victim was a virgin, these bastards picked on babies and children. A 9-month old baby girl was raped by 6 men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You stupid bastards! &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;DIE ALONE&lt;/span&gt;! Don't cause more pain &amp;amp; harm to others!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You want to put your dicks in prostitutes and loose women, then that is YOUR OWN PROBLEM. Don't make your problem, our problem!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cannot keep your penis in your pants, then get a dog.  Get a cow.  Or forever stick to farking those dirty prostitutes and don't infect the rest of the population.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The more these bastard rape, the more the disease spreads. And then more and more people will get AIDS. And instead of virgins curing AIDS, virgins themselves will be spread AIDS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, you cannot even trust your own husband / wife / bf / &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;gf&lt;/span&gt;. Who knows where your husband has been when he's not at home? Who knows who your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;gf&lt;/span&gt; shares food with? Or maybe something as simple as a sharing a towel, and you get crabs. Maybe your wife is a nurse and she accidentally pricked herself with an AIDS-infected needle, then she goes home to you and sits on your face / dick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;In the End:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't blame me for being sceptical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't blame me for being suspicious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But some humans are like the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;english&lt;/span&gt; TV series, like The 4400 or like Heroes.  They are not quite normal and have something '&lt;em&gt;special&lt;/em&gt;'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't fly or make flowers bloom.  But I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;definately&lt;/span&gt; have a very strong sense when something is going wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I can't read minds.  But somehow secrets and lies and betrayals always &lt;em&gt;magically reveal themselves &lt;/em&gt;in front of me EVEN WHEN I'M NOT LOOKING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My ex-friend tries to cheat me to lend her money which she will never return.  And I happen to find out &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;cuz&lt;/span&gt; she forgot to log off her incriminating &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;MSN&lt;/span&gt; and I went to use the same computer and I SAW IT and I confronted her and she apologized and I told her to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;fark&lt;/span&gt; off.  Just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;becuz&lt;/span&gt; I'm rich (or used to) doesn't mean that I want to give money away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another ex-friend got jealous over my school results, so she pretended to have some juicy exam tips.  She gave them to me, but all the tips never came out.  Then during &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;breaktime&lt;/span&gt;, I overheard her gloating LOUDLY to another bitch that I would fail my exams.  But if that bitch is reading this blog, I want to tell you... &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;MAN, AM I LUCKY TO HAVE ALREADY STUDIED FOR MY EXAMS AND I DIDN'T EVEN NEED YOUR FAKE TIPS&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;  AND I FREAKING GOT A 'B'-SCORE ON THAT PAPER, BITCH. AND I GOT THE RESULT SLIP AS PROOF&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a sadder incident, an ex-bf was having sex with another woman, and somehow, he managed to accidentally call my hp and let me hear them humping each other.  And when I confronted him, (&lt;em&gt;here comes the shocker&lt;/em&gt;)... he told me that SHE was his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;gf&lt;/span&gt;  *gasp*  and I was the 'mistress'.  Bastard.  Hope his airstewardess gf sleeps around with strangers and get AIDS or that 'cauliflower disease' (i think it's genital herpes) and then pass it on to him.  And then his dick rots and falls off just in time before he could infect an innocent girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there are other unfortunate incidents, but I shall not talk about them cuz it makes me feel bitter about life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a happier side, maybe someone is watching over me and making sure that I only hang out with the right people and those who treat me right and those who are truthful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was once a stupid person who was jealous of my brains &amp;amp; beauty.  And she said to me, "&lt;em&gt;no wonder you said that you only have a few friends, now I know it's becuz nobody likes you&lt;/em&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my reply to her was...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"I have few friends becuz they are the only true friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;It's not nobody likes me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;It's me who don't like them."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I believe that there are people out there who are getting betrayed left right up down, and they still don't know it yet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;This is becuz of the sad fact that they are not born to have my 4400 ability.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;And I bet that if everyone knows who is actually making use of them, they would not keep many friends around them as well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/16597927-6800345202702723591?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/6800345202702723591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=6800345202702723591' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6800345202702723591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6800345202702723591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/11/dont-blame-me-observations-from-world.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-1694027049399851773</id><published>2007-11-15T17:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T17:57:37.634+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Superwoman Award&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I deserve this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My company is doing its accounts closing between 16 to 20 nov.  And I have to prepare for my payroll closing + HR closing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;At work today&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the Purchasing girl is on leave till next week.  Which means I have to cover her purchasing closing duties.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the Receptionist is on MC today, which means I have to cover her recep duties of answering the 1001 phonecalls, the 1001 visitors who walk in looking for company staff, the despatch duties and opening of mails from SingPost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the GM's secretary is on MC today, which means I have to cover her secretarial duties of serving the boss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and not forgetting, I have to do my own duties of training / compensation benefits / staff issues / administrative work / serving my HR boss / updating the staff attendances / medical claims / staff confirmation / staff disputes / accident reports / etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, I am DAMN BLOODY PISSED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why must the Purchasing girl choose this closing period to go on leave?  But then, I cannot blame her cuz she has to go hold her wedding dinner in Indonesia.  So that's alright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the worst part was, why must the damn Receptionist go on MC just becuz she has back pain???  I have a crooked spine and I have been having pain in my neck, back &amp;amp; shoulders for 7 years and EVERY SINGLE DAY, I'm living with pain and still I come to work.  Plus the stupid company doctor can tell her that her back pain is caused by STRESS, so she should relax more.  STRESS?!?!?!  What bloody stress can a receptionist face?  She answers the damn phone calls and transfers them.  Wahhhh... very 'stress' lor.  And while she's telling me about how stress she is, she's sitting down having her breakfast leisurely and reading the morning papers.  And throughout the day, she snack on goodies and chit-chat with visitors who come in.  THAT is call STRESS meh???  I want to slap her face, man.  Becuz she go and fake her MC, I have to cover her duties.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the GM's secretary went on a 2 day MC becuz she put on her contacts wrongly.  But at least this is a valid reason.  Cuz her corneas have been cut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I only go on MC if I have a fever, but these ppl?  They take MC, knowing that even if they are not around, somebody else (aka me) will be able to cover their duties.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I GO ON LEAVE OR MC?!?!?  Absolutely NOBODY is covering my work!!!  Maybe only 1 or 2 small little items need to be done, like making a followup phonecall, or passing of documents.  But who will calculate the OT?  Who will do the payroll?  Who will handle insurance &amp;amp; hospitalisation issues?  NOBODY.  So, while the rest of the happy ppl go on leave &amp;amp; take their MCs during the busiest period of the month, I'm the only one who cannot fall sick nor take leave during the closing period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if I take leave or MC, I still have to come back and clear my own work which have piled up during my absence.  This is one reason why I hardly absent myself.  And this is one reason why I absolutely HATE taking leave.  Becuz I know that when I come back, I will have more work to rush thru.  And then when I'm sick, as long as I can get off the bed, I will come to work becuz as usual, NOBODY will help me and my work will still pile up high during my absence.  So no point being absent from work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WHY&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;?!?!?!  Why I cannot take leave between 16 to 20th of every month?!  Why why why???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who ask me to be in HR.  Who ask me to be the ONLY HR person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blame who?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blame me.  Everything is my fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why must I be so efficient (self-praising).  Why must everybody think that they can depend on me (self-praising again).  At home, at work, at everywhere... it's always the same story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'gni do this'&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'gni do that'&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'even if I don't do it, I know gni will do it'&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'just let gni do all the rubbish work that ppl don't want to do'&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;ANGRY&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I must self-praise cuz nobody ever appreciates what I do.  And I always feel like I'm doing a thankless job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Nobody comes back from their leave&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; and says, "&lt;em&gt;thank you gni for covering for me during my absence&lt;/em&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... instead it's, "&lt;em&gt;I HAD SO MUCH FUN!!!  but I feel so tired after my holiday, dun feel like working now... still in holiday mood&lt;/em&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... or worse, "&lt;em&gt;wah!  You shouldn't do my work like this!  Now I have to redo it according to my own preference!&lt;/em&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;Nobody even comes back from their MC&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; and says, "&lt;em&gt;sorry for troubling you, gni... and thank you for covering for me during my MC... i understand that you yourself have a lot of work, so you are actually taking up more shitload of work on my behalf&lt;/em&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... instead it's, "&lt;em&gt;ohhh i was so sick and i'm still feeling so sick... my flu was so bad... my fever was so high... i couldn't get off the bed... i keep eating plain food and i got so sick of eating it&lt;/em&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... or worse, "&lt;em&gt;maybe I should take another day off cuz I'm feeling so sick, can you also help me to do this and that?  I want to go and see the doctor cuz I feel so drowsy from the medication.  I think I should rest more&lt;/em&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm feeling so bitter now cuz I feel like that whole world is against me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe it's becuz I'm having PMS, so these bitter feelings &amp;amp; thoughts are swarming me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then again, I DESERVE TO BE BITTER!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I DESERVE THE SUPERWOMAN AWARD!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sulks*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-1694027049399851773?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/1694027049399851773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=1694027049399851773' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/1694027049399851773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/1694027049399851773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/11/superwoman-award-i-deserve-this.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-1168301965096416882</id><published>2007-10-24T18:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T18:57:48.456+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Twinkle is Sick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twinkle has been sick for almost a month now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so worried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He doesn't want to eat.  He never even drink water.  We keep having to force feed him liquid food and tons of medicine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus, he lost a lot of weight.  Twinkle was firm &amp;amp; muscular, but now, he's just bones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I know he cries cuz he's feeling so weak and miserable, but yet, he doesn't know what is happening to him.  He doesn't want to move around much anymore.  And he's losing a lot of fur.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poor poor Twinkle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope he gets better soon.  A cute innocent young rabbit should not be suffering like this.  And the worst part is that he cannot express himself.  He can't tell me that his tummy hurts... or he feels like throwing up... or each time he eats, his tummy will hurt like us humans having gastric.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I cry too.  Whenever I think of Twinkle being so sick.  It's like I can feel his pain.  Hungry, but not eating.  Thirsty, but not drinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daddy said that Twinkle is going to die.  He said that when pets get sick, they hardly get better.  Mummy just said that we have already taken care of him properly, so when he goes to Rabbit Heaven, he will be happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I miss Twinkle already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I think he's better.  But most of the days, he's just lying on the floor and he doesn't move for hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I will still hope for the best.  But yet, I don't want him to suffer for too long... ... ... if you know what I mean.  Of course I want him to be a healthy happy bunny again.  But in case the illness is inevitable... ... then I hope he goes peacefully and without pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-1168301965096416882?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/1168301965096416882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=1168301965096416882' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/1168301965096416882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/1168301965096416882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/10/twinkle-is-sick-twinkle-has-been-sick.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-881493091540756934</id><published>2007-08-14T19:38:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T20:02:58.632+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="2" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Music and Lyrics&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a sabprocessed="1" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/RsGUc3l8J-I/AAAAAAAAABk/g0PEcHLivPo/s1600-h/musicandlyrics_posterbig.jpg"&gt;&lt;img sabprocessed="1" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/RsGUc3l8J-I/AAAAAAAAABk/g0PEcHLivPo/s400/musicandlyrics_posterbig.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098519476840441826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img sabprocessed="1" src="file:///c:/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;img sabprocessed="1" src="file:///c:/Temp/moz-screenshot-1.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just rented this movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I honestly really dislike the British accent. &lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;I HAPPEN TO THINK THE BRITISH ACCENT IS SO SEXY! AND THEY'RE SO WITTY! BRITISH PEOPLE ARE SO WITTY AND CHARMING AND SEXY AND YOU CAN'T DENY IT! - invasion of my bratty little sister who typed this while I went to play with Twinkle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;.  I tried to watch like About A Boy, Love Actually and Bridget Jones Diary... and 5 mins of British accent was all I could take.  After that 5 mins, I just wanted to physically abuse my television.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT, after watching Music and Lyrics... ... it's so... ... (&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;i can't believe i'm going to say this&lt;/span&gt;)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="2" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... seriously, it's funny.  And romantic.  And the soundtrack is SUPER catchy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come on lah... even my daddy was laughing along with the movie.  And he HATES mushy romantic non-action stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So trust me.  It's THAT good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even the British accent didn't even irritate me one bit.  Or maybe Hugh Grant tried not to talk too British'ly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywayz...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been sick for almost 5 days now.  I have been having the milky-colored shit, with green specks.  That is not normal shit.  How can shit be milky color.  Maybe I've been somehow abducted by aliens and I've been probed and somehow they have managed to manipulate my shit.  Honestly speaking, if my shit was actually chocolate or some kind of desert, it will look quite delicious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apart from that, I have lost weight.  I can't believe that I actually still can lose weight, seeing that I'm already so frail looking.  I'm beginning to think that I'm subconsciously anorexic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since I started my new job, I've been falling sick quite often.  It's probably the food, or the air or the water in that place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But funnily, I actually like working there.  I like my manager cuz she's just great and understanding.  Plus, I guess what is important is that she actually recognizes the effort that I put in.  But I really wish I wouldn't get sick so often cuz it doesn't look too good on me (&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;i know, it's like, my big ego &amp; pride thing&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywayz, back to the movie... ... ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really think that it is so romantic &amp;amp; sweet for Hugh Grant to actually write a song for Drew Barrymore... and it was related to his feelings towards her and the certain cutey sweety things that happened between them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;heart flutters&lt;/span&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to like... watch this a zillion times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's such an honest feel-good brainless movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-881493091540756934?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/881493091540756934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=881493091540756934' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/881493091540756934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/881493091540756934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/08/music-and-lyrics-i-just-rented-this.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TZW2_IzOtEU/RsGUc3l8J-I/AAAAAAAAABk/g0PEcHLivPo/s72-c/musicandlyrics_posterbig.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-8210086475112561681</id><published>2007-07-30T14:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T14:50:52.234+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Visit to the Temple&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally watched Transformers on Sunday morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;SUPER NICE&lt;/span&gt;!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then after that, I went to keep my word on praying to &lt;em&gt;Someone Up There&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But somehow, I dunno if I was sleepy &amp; easily irritable... or some dark evil forces are preventing me from going to the temple. Cuz on the way to the temple... I kept losing my temper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;hey! that rhymes... on the way to the TEMPLE, I keep losing my TEMPER.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywayz, I got irritated at small little stuff... and I suddenly felt so drowsy &amp;amp; tired that I just wanted to give up and go home to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But being conscious of the fact that I am behaving strangely all of the sudden, I tried to keep my cool and press on with the journey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the temple, I tried my best to pray as earnestly as I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I am really not joking when I say that I do feel uncomfortable. Perhaps some dark evil forces are REALLY determined to take over my life &amp; therefore, preventing me from feeling at peace while at the temple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;hmmmmm... is that why Someone Up There has given me those 2 dreams??? To alert me that it's time for some divine protection from the invisible dark beings??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I still finished my rounds and went back home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember when I was around 15 years old. I fell really sick for a whole week. I couldn't eat and couldn't drink. Imagine sipping a teaspoon of water &amp;amp; puking out gallons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the week, my parents brought me to the hospital &amp; I was admitted for another whole week. The doctor said I had water in the left lung.... ewwwwwwwww...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During my stay at the hospital, I had this dream that I was walking back home. And it was the Hungry Ghost Festival period. Then as I was walking, this burnt paper (&lt;em&gt;which the Chinese use to burn for the dead&lt;/em&gt;) suddenly flew right under my feet and I stepped on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told my mummy about this dream when she came to visit me at the hospital the next day. And she said that &lt;em&gt;Someone Up There&lt;/em&gt; was trying to tell me how I managed to get so sick. I was so unwell for 2 WHOLE WEEKS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since that time, mummy disallowed me to travel or stay out late at night during the Hungry Ghost Festival. And she told me not to go to anyone's funeral becuz I always either:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(a) fall sick&lt;/em&gt;, or&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(b) get myself into some bad situation&lt;/em&gt;, or&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;em&gt;c) dream about the dead&lt;/em&gt;, or&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(d) sense something of the spiritual kind&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I had encounters of the spooky kind, but until now, I still don't see myself as a superstitous person. Of course there are certain things which I avoid... ... like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(a) keeping dolls (&lt;em&gt;cuz I have been seriously traumatised by Chucky&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;(b) stepping on joss sticks &amp;amp; paper (&lt;em&gt;just cuz it's a form of respect for the dead&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;(c) eating offerings for the dead (&lt;em&gt;who in the right mind would do that&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;(d) peeing on bushes / trees&lt;br /&gt;(e) touching anything that looks like it belongs to the dead&lt;br /&gt;(f) ... ... can't think of any more at this time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well... I guess I will have to make a more conscious effort in regaining my faith in &lt;em&gt;Someone&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking back, I never know when I had started to lose it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps it was during the time when I hit the bottom of the pit... and I told myself that &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;ONLY I&lt;/span&gt; can change &amp;amp; control my own life... ... which is still true, but maybe it is time to have a little faith in others as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-8210086475112561681?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/8210086475112561681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=8210086475112561681' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8210086475112561681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8210086475112561681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/07/visit-to-temple-i-finally-watched.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-2424318109657681529</id><published>2007-07-26T13:46:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T13:53:14.699+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;'Someone Up There'... Again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dreamt of &lt;em&gt;Someone&lt;/em&gt; last night again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time, I was visiting a medium.  And I registered (&lt;em&gt;hey... long queue mah.  The medium is very accurate, thus, making him popular&lt;/em&gt;) my name with this short-haired girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But after waiting and waiting, it never got to my turn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet, nobody else was consulting the medium.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I asked the short-haired girl if it was my turn already.  And she looked thru the LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG list of names &amp; said that my name wasn't inside.  And the medium ignored me like I wasn't there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therefore, in the dream, I came to the conclusion that I wasn't on the 'GOOD' list.  Kinda like Santa Claus only visits those good little boys &amp; girls.  And those who were bad will not be on his list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big time  :*-(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I woke up in the morning, I told mummy about my 2 &lt;em&gt;Someone Up There&lt;/em&gt; dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And she said that she will bring me to the temple to &lt;em&gt;pai pai&lt;/em&gt; (pray) becuz it might be &lt;em&gt;Someone&lt;/em&gt; hinting that &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;IT'S TIME&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-2424318109657681529?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/2424318109657681529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=2424318109657681529' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/2424318109657681529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/2424318109657681529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/07/someone-up-there.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-9137814146084549428</id><published>2007-07-25T13:32:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-25T13:41:50.413+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;'Someone Up There'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, I dreamt that I was in a marketplace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I was walking down the stairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But right at the end of the staircase, my left hand reached out for the railing but I missed and instead, it pressed down against a shelf... which sounded like I toppled something over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I turned and looked to see what it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was an altar of deities. And I spilled the oil with the candle floating inside the glass bottle, which also extinguished the candle flame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH MY GOD!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;em&gt;prays earnestly &amp; apologizes for the mess&lt;/em&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow, I felt this complusive urge that it was my responsibility to relight the candle again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think '&lt;em&gt;Someone Up There&lt;/em&gt;' is hinting something to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I haven't been a pious, religious person &amp;amp; maybe '&lt;em&gt;Someone Up There&lt;/em&gt;' is waiting for me to go visit, but I always never do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes. Ok. I hear you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please don't send bolts of lightning down my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will visit you soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-9137814146084549428?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/9137814146084549428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=9137814146084549428' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/9137814146084549428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/9137814146084549428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/07/someone-up-there-last-night-i-dreamt.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-2850717745981758783</id><published>2007-07-18T16:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-18T16:58:57.677+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Getting to Know Me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;When friendship is still new...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Friend:  Where you want to go?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Me:  I dunno.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Friend:  What you want to eat?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Me:  Anything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Friend:  What you feel like doing?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Me:  I dunno.  Anything lor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;After getting to know me slightly better...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Friend:  Where you want to go?  *&lt;em&gt;answers on my behalf&lt;/em&gt;*... I dunno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Me:  *grins*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Friend:  What you want to eat?  *&lt;em&gt;answers on my behalf&lt;/em&gt;*... Anything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  (O_O) !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Friend:  What you feel like doing?  *&lt;em&gt;answers on my behalf&lt;/em&gt;*... I dunno.  Anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Me:  OI !!!!  ENOUGH HOR!!!  ARE YOU MOCKING ME?!?!?!  *&lt;em&gt;du lan (angry)&lt;/em&gt;*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;--------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;After getting to me know very much better...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Friend:  Where you want to go?  *&lt;em&gt;short pause without waiting for my reply&lt;/em&gt;*... We go to Orchard lah.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Me:  ... ok.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Friend:  What you want to eat?  *&lt;em&gt;short pause without waiting for my reply&lt;/em&gt;*... or we go and eat at Crystal Jade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Me:  ... orh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Friend:  What you feel like doing?  *&lt;em&gt;short pause without waiting for my reply&lt;/em&gt;*... I feel like going to watch Transformers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Me:  ... also can lor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;--------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;This is me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-2850717745981758783?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/2850717745981758783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=2850717745981758783' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/2850717745981758783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/2850717745981758783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/07/getting-to-know-me-when-friendship-is.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-8277587401796106081</id><published>2007-07-13T21:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-13T22:33:04.423+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="2" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;PRC Workers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 PRCs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TOUGH ON ME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who in Singapore can actually hold a decent conversation in perfect mandarin?!?!  YOU TELL ME YOU TELL ME!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, I have to introduce them to people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;Who knows how to say ''&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;RECEPTIONIST&lt;/span&gt;'' in mandarin?!?!  YOU TELL ME YOU TELL ME!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I have to bring them around the premises and let them know what is what, and where is where... and what goes to where... and where puts what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;How to say "&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;SECTION A &amp; SECTION B&lt;/span&gt;" in mandarin?!?!  And what is "&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;forklift&lt;/span&gt;" in mandarin?!?!  So stress... ... ... (-_-")&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus, when they talk, it's like they are &lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ah-Mi-Nan&lt;/span&gt; (direct mandarin translation for &lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Eminem&lt;/span&gt;).  And they're rapping in mandarin.  No comma, no fullstop.  It's like they can talk in 2 whole paragraph without taking breaths.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;applause&lt;/span&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 of them were from the city.  5 were from the countryside (&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;as in, they are farmers&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can tell that the ones from the city are more tech-savvy.  1 of them even have a hand-held PDA English-Mandarin translation thingy.  And the other one has the mentality that &lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Every Man is For Himself&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whereas the farmer boys were more unselfish.  They were more obedient.  And more willing to help.  In fact, they had shown male chivalry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was actually impressed by one particular guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was extremely pleasant and he could even hold a decent &amp; polite conversation.  And whenever I held something bulky / heavy in my hands, he would IMMEDIATELY come over &amp;amp; help me hold it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously impressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some guys (&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;make it MOST guys&lt;/span&gt;) won't even bother to hold my shopping bags.  They don't even let you walk thru a door first.  Nor hold the door for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, this particular guy would be so damn helpful to the rest.  He would get water for all of them (&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and previously, one guy that came from the city actually had the stupidity to tell me that he'll fark care the rest &amp; if they were thirsty, they can get the water themselves&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when squeezing thru tight corners, he let me walk thru first &amp;amp; didn't stand too close to me.   Whereas some of the others would stand REALLY close while talking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's such a nice nice fella.  I hope all good things will be bestowed upon him.  And may he never get bullied by others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cutest thing of all was that they'll actually STAND whenever the management steps into the room.  Like what we used to do when we were in Primary School whenever the teacher enters the class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW CUTE IS THAT?!?!?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean... who taught them to stand in unison and greet the person???  I'm sure Singaporeans do not do that (&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cuz I don't&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the minute you finish presenting the orientation slides to them or after someone finishes a very INFORMAL speech, they give a very WARM &amp; HEARTY CLAP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;omg...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when you ask a question, they all reply.  So unlike Singaporeans... who keep very quiet and unresponsive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine.  These are people from the farms.  And they have such polite behaviors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But of course, they still have the tendency to WANT to spit on the floor.  And when they yawn, they just give a very big audible '&lt;span sabprocessed="1" sabchildelements="1" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yawnnnnnnnnnnn&lt;/span&gt;'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To some of us, we probably will think that they are being rude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But to them, it's just a normal human thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's nice to know that some guys out there are still sweet &amp;amp; innocent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or... maybe that's just the surface.  But who knows.  For now, this is my 1st impression of them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-8277587401796106081?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/8277587401796106081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=8277587401796106081' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8277587401796106081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8277587401796106081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/07/prc-workers-7-prcs.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-8658593882384195868</id><published>2007-07-11T18:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-12T10:06:50.510+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Woman died of acute blood coagulation problem after giving birth&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So sad...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;=*(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I have also daydreamed about dying while giving birth to my baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I think about how people will be saddened by my death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would my child think of me once in a while? That his / her mother died during child birth.  And would my child feel guilty?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would my husband have another woman?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Of course he will.  Everyone needs sex.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;Read the article &lt;a href="http://www.channelnewsasia.com/stories/singaporelocalnews/view/287449/1/.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I can say is, this is life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is cruel.  And it is harsh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps if you pray hard enough &amp; do more good deeds + refrain from doing evil / bad karma things, maybe God will eventually take pity on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-8658593882384195868?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/8658593882384195868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=8658593882384195868' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8658593882384195868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/8658593882384195868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/07/woman-died-of-acute-blood-coagulation.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-6235017182006533328</id><published>2007-07-11T16:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T08:22:01.810+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Eerie Eerie Dream&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since nothing much has been going on with my life (&lt;em&gt;except for intensive amount of work &amp; fatigue&lt;/em&gt;), I have decided to blog about the dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, I dreamt that I was with this Indonesian guy. Can't really remember what he looks like, but I think he's quite cute. And he likes me. Nice... .. cuz in the dream, I liked him too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some strange reason, we were in a hotel. And dun think dirty, cuz we're only there to look for rooms.... ... for HIM to stay cuz he's a foreigner. *tsk tsk*... filthy minds...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the staff at the check-in counter told us that we'll have to wait cuz it's fully booked. So, me &amp;amp; this Indon guy went to walk around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just outside the hotel, there were these shophouses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And outside one of these shophouses, there was a little boy. Standing in the middle of the pavement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I carried this stranger boy cuz he's so cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so, the 3 of us were walking to a coffeeshop to eat (&lt;em&gt;dun ask me why, I also cannot explain why this part happened&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;em&gt;here comes the eerie part&lt;/em&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok ok... so I was carrying this boy. And suddenly he was looking behind me... ... ... ... and he pointed to something behind me... ... ... ... and he said,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"... &lt;em&gt;got ghost...&lt;/em&gt;"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although it's only a dream, but I could feel the hairs on my back &amp; neck standing. Plus, it was really cold.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And I almost threw the boy down onto the ground like a little rag doll &amp;amp; scream hysterically while running away flapping my twiggy arms crazily in the air.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;BUT!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I didn't.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;After hearing what he said, I calmed myself down and I asked him to repeat what he just said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little boy replied, &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;"&lt;em&gt;... got ghost behind... following us...&lt;/em&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee... scary lehhhhhh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then this image came to my mind... ... a pale-looking woman with long hair &amp; white flowy dress (&lt;em&gt;yeah, i know... stereotype female ghost&lt;/em&gt;)... and she was carrying a baby in her arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And she was floating... ... floating... ... floating behind us. Following closely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;SCARIEEEEEEEEEEEEE&lt;/span&gt;!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few insignificant other things happened in the dream, but as the dream goes on... ... somehow, I found out that the female ghost &amp;amp; her baby was actually following that Indon guy. Cuz he mistreated them and somehow they died. But their spirits were unable to rest, so she followed him everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then some other stuff happened in the dream, and soon, I was jolted awake from the dream when it got too eerie. Like the part when she turned and looked at me. And she didn't have eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee... vewy vewy scareddddddd...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;=*( !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a comfort hug now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16597927-6235017182006533328?l=palliativedrug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/feeds/6235017182006533328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16597927&amp;postID=6235017182006533328' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6235017182006533328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16597927/posts/default/6235017182006533328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palliativedrug.blogspot.com/2007/07/eerie-eerie-dream-since-nothing-much.html' title=''/><author><name>PalliativeDrug</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b66/PalliativeDrug/Goth01.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16597927.post-4380057539469231429</id><published>2007-07-10T20:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-10T20:58:36.156+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Q &amp; A Time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone asked me these questions in an email.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) What's your favourite song?&lt;br /&gt;= &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;I NEED A HERO by Frou Frou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Which is your favourite band/singer?&lt;br /&gt;= &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;EMINEM... he's so bad, he's good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) What's your favourite movie?&lt;br /&gt;= &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Gladiator (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;i can watch it a million times&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;).  I love tough rugged heroes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Who's your favourite film-maker?&lt;br /&gt;= &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;James Wan (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;for the beauty of SAW I, II &amp; III and the upcoming film - Dead Silence... if you haven't watch it, WATCH IT!!!  YOU MUST!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) What's your favourite book/magazine?&lt;br /&gt;= &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;anything by Richard Laymon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) What's your favourite quote?&lt;br /&gt;= &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Life is unfair.  Just kill yourself or get over it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) Which famous person inspires you?&lt;br /&gt;= &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Adam Sandler.  How did he get so funny???  Another person will be Jolin Chai... she inspires me to get silicon implants.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) Where in Singapore would you like to stay?&lt;br /&gt;= &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Central.  Cuz............. it's the centre of everything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) What three things (not persons) can't you live without?&lt;br /&gt;= &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;HP, moisturizer, money (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;trust me, nobody can live without money unless they eat grass for food&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I don't get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why were there only NINE questions???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like... either you give 5 questions.  Or 10 questions.  Or 15.  Or 20.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what I mean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9 questions???  Why &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;NINE&lt;/span&gt; lor?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b
