<?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-15819057</id><updated>2011-04-22T06:45:24.466+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The closest thing.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>127</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114667252801516254</id><published>2006-05-04T00:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-04T00:10:18.046+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&amp; so while this blog hold soooo much memories that it (sorta) pains me to leave, that is exactly what I'm doing. It didn't last a year but from the content of this blog, it could've easily describe one. It's been fun kids, but LJ's calling me back - &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span class='ljuser' style='white-space: nowrap;'&gt;&lt;a href='http://wednesday_1989.livejournal.com/profile'&gt;&lt;img src='http://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif' alt='[info]' width='17' height='17' style='vertical-align: bottom; border: 0;' /&gt;&lt;a href='http://wednesday_1989.livejournal.com/'&gt;&lt;b&gt;wednesday_1989&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;span class='ljuser' style='white-space: nowrap;'&gt;&lt;a href='http://wednesday_1989.livejournal.com/profile'&gt;&lt;img src='http://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif' alt='[info]' width='17' height='17' style='vertical-align: bottom; border: 0;' /&gt;&lt;a href='http://wednesday_1989.livejournal.com/'&gt;&lt;b&gt;wednesday_1989&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much &amp;hearts;,&lt;br /&gt;Jo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114667252801516254?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114667252801516254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114667252801516254' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114667252801516254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114667252801516254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/05/jo.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114641043359918644</id><published>2006-04-30T22:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-30T23:55:47.866+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So yes hi, alot of things happened since... well, since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- For training yesterday, these two Russian (?) siblings came to try their first training with Ignatius. An 11 year old girl &amp; a 10 year old boy. We all got owned by them somehow so I shall stamp my ego to dust &amp; not say that Eddie was bullied by all of us &amp; was owned the worst. Hahahahahaha. OK, I just said it so while I'm at it I'd like to express utmost GLEE that I am not the one who gets bullied during trainings but Eddie does. So yes, it feels good being the only girl &amp; yet not have to be bullied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- So we were practicing serves but Iggy was outside talking to the Russian (?) parents &amp; so we were just fooling around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josiah : &lt;em&gt;You know what we used to call Shannon?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eddie : &lt;em&gt;What?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Siah : &lt;em&gt;Birds' nest fern, coz of her hair.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I even forgot about the whole birds' nest fern shit. Then Siah was talking about how Andy Roddick serves &amp; I was like,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yeah, Andy serves like this *makes a service action*.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Siah : &lt;em&gt;Who? Andy Chiew?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me : &lt;em&gt;NOLA! Andy Roddick&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Eddie tosses the ball &amp; bursts out laughing &amp; the ball bounces off the top of his head*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK yes, I am starting to feel a sense of comraderie with those boys. A first since I joined back into the group in February. On a happier note, the Russian (?) girl is joining us. HAHA. We are SO gonna tease Tom on Thursday for training!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I hit Siah's nuts. HAHAHAHA. I was teamed up with Eddie against Josiah &amp; Imran. We had the bucket of balls so when it was Siah's turn to serve, I hit afew over. He couldn't catch it so it bounced &amp; hit him where the sun don't shine. HAHAHA. He claims it hit his thigh. His expression belied his words. I SO HIT HIS NUTS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Yesterday evening was hell so I won't expound on that. But the night's dream was fucking good. I dreamt that _____ &amp; I were together &amp; he was in my room playing CS on the computer with my arm over his shoulder. Then my dad came in &amp; ___________________________________ then I went to the kitchen to get _____ &amp; myself a drink. &amp; Rae was _____'s ex &amp; I had a picture of her face as my fridge magnet. &amp; she looked so pretty on the magnet, I was abit jealous. Then _____ &amp; I found ourselves suddenly at a tennis academy with my Sec 4 class. The trainers were a short woman (not really a midget) &amp; her limping, tall husband. &amp; then Si Lin came up beside me &amp; tried to hold my other hand. But it was so fucking sweaty, she took her hand away &amp; complained but _____ just squeezed my other hand tighter. Then the woman looked at me &amp; asked me a question. She was fucking fierce. &amp; I didn't know the answer so _____ tried to whisper me the answer but she shouted at him not to tell me. But I knew already coz I heard him so I told her. Then she told me to answer again without _____'s help but wtfuck, I fucking already knew it coz he told me &amp; I couldn't change that fact. So I told her the answer &amp; she just looked away angrily. Then _____ &amp; I found ourselves in an auditorium. Abit like how KC's AVA Theatrette looks like. We were sitting in the second last row, in front of De Souza, Annabelle &amp; Si Lin (I have no idea why I dreamt of them, so don't ask). The class was making so much noise in the auditorium, then suddenly we found ourselves back in my room with my arm still over his shoulder &amp; him playing CS. &amp; I think this is a separate dream but I'll type it down anyway since I dreamt of it too - I dreamt I was on the highest floor of my Primary School, looking down at the road &amp; I see Kimberly. She looked super skinny &amp; fair. So we exchange words by shouting, you know, just saying "hi" &amp; all that. Except we were yelling at each other because of the distance. Even though she kept walking in the direction of the school, she never moved one inch. Then we said "bye" &amp; I walked out of the ledge. Then I realized what she said last, "I like that you have a second earring on each ear!" &amp; I was thinking, how the fuck did she know when she was too far to see it. So yes, that was my dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I played tennis with Greg, Sam, Edmond, Brenda &amp; Jon today! Hahaha. It was super fun &amp; Jennifer called after the game to cry to me that I didn't tell her I was leaving to play tennis. &amp; she didn't want me to come home because she wanted Daddy to take her to Lagoona to play with us. Hahahaha. &amp; EDMOND YOU FUCKER WHO DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO DRIVE SAFELY WANNA RACE WITH THE OLD AH PECK WITH THE FASTER CAR. &amp; WANNA FUCKING DRIVE AT 80 WHEN THE TRAFFIC LIGHT IS RED &amp; THE CAR IN FRONT IS SO CLOSE (&amp; probably driving at 50). I bet the people eating at the Hong Kong (?) cafe at Telok Kurau road heard my screams from the car. &amp; just when I thought I was about to escape, he fucking speeds up to my block driveway &amp; suddenly breaks. I think I can drive better than him. Then again, maybe not since he sorta taught me the fundamentals of driving in the automatic gear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, so yes. That was my weekend. Woohoo! :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114641043359918644?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114641043359918644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114641043359918644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114641043359918644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114641043359918644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/04/so-yes-hi-alot-of-things-happened.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114622821637985978</id><published>2006-04-28T20:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-28T20:49:06.086+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v280/joannacabodoc/HAHAH.jpg" border="1" align="right"&gt;So Charlene &amp; I were talking on msn &amp; we were showing each other display pictures of (Mc)George from Grey's Anatomy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;charlene. living high on yesterday's lies &lt;/strong&gt; :  hahaha &lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;smells like teen spirit.&lt;/em&gt; : our pics are so appropriate &lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;smells like teen spirit.&lt;/em&gt; :  jerry is looking up aghast at george in the shower in my convo box &lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;smells like teen spirit. &lt;/em&gt; : HAHAHAHA &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;charlene. living high on yesterday's lies&lt;/strong&gt; : HAHAHA&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v280/joannacabodoc/lolers.jpg" border="1" align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was totally by coincidence; Charlene had just put up her picture of the skunk &amp; I had just clicked on Jerry's picture. HAHAHAHA. Sooooooo funnay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114622821637985978?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114622821637985978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114622821637985978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114622821637985978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114622821637985978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/04/so-charlene-charlene-had-just-put-up.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114619023456356345</id><published>2006-04-28T10:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-28T10:44:49.993+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My bones are tired, Daddy &lt;br /&gt;I don't get enough sleep, I don't eat as good as I should, Daddy &lt;br /&gt;What's that say about me? &lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I sleep past noon, Daddy &lt;br /&gt;Drink lots of black coffee and I smoke like a chimney &lt;br /&gt;Yes, I left the refrigerator door half open, Daddy &lt;br /&gt;What's that say about me? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sometimes I want to rip out your throat, Daddy &lt;br /&gt;For all those things you said that were mean&lt;br /&gt;Gonna make you just as vulnerable as I was, Daddy&lt;br /&gt;What's that say about me? &lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I want to bash in your teeth, Daddy &lt;br /&gt;Gonna use your tongue as a stamp &lt;br /&gt;Gonna rip your heart out the way you did mine, Daddy &lt;br /&gt;Go ahead and psychoanalyze that&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Cause I'm your creation, I'm your love, Daddy &lt;br /&gt;Grew up to be and do all those sick things you said I'd do &lt;br /&gt;Well last night I saw you sneak out your window with your white hood, &lt;br /&gt;Daddy &lt;br /&gt;What's that say about you? &lt;br /&gt;I'm sloppy, what's that say about you? &lt;br /&gt;I'm messy, what's that say about you? &lt;br /&gt;My bones are tired, Daddy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh no, this isn't for MY Daddy. This is for someone who could &amp; would never be my Daddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a wholly different note, I stumbled across &lt;a href="http://newpaper.asia1.com.sg/printfriendly/0,4139,104850,00.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; in Greg's blog. I have alot to say about this Redpony dude but in a nutshell I think he is a fucking insensitive, self-righteous, arrogant, stupid, assholic, insipid, smug, perverse (btw, Charlene I found out it doesn't only mean something pervertic), inane, sanctimonius prick who has a smattering idea on how Poly, JC &amp; ITE work. He is just a big, sticky lump of ego.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114619023456356345?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114619023456356345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114619023456356345' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114619023456356345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114619023456356345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/04/my-bones-are-tired-daddy-i-dont-get.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114597934437757042</id><published>2006-04-25T23:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-25T23:35:44.510+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Go to your music player of choice and put it on shuffle.&lt;br /&gt;Say the following questions aloud, and press play.&lt;br /&gt;Use the song title as the answer to the question.&lt;br /&gt;Cheat if you like, but cheating on a meme is pretty fucking lame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* How does the world see me? Curbside Prophet - Jason Mraz. (Aww, really? I foresee blue skies tomorrow with white clouds. As opposed to purple ones with green clouds.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Will I have a happy life? It's A Disaster - OK GO. (GEE THANKS.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What do my friends really think of me? The Beautiful Letdown - Switchfoot. (Gee, thanks, I'm a letdown. Well at least I look good being one.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Do people secretly lust after me? Somebody Told Me - The Killers. (Oh &lt;em&gt;reeally&lt;/em&gt;?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* How can I make myself happy? Kill - Jimmy Eat World. (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Gladly.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What should I do with my life? Run It! - Chris Brown feat Jermaine DuPree. (I see the light, thank you Chris Brown &amp; Dupree.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Will I ever have children? Never Is A Promise - Fiona Apple. (Now that's just not fair, Fiona.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What is some good advice for me? Forecast - Jason Mraz. (So you hear it'll be raining bedsheets &amp; lovers words? GREAT!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* How will I be remembered? Cop That Shit (Mousse T Fierce Mix) - Timbaland feat Missy Elliot. (Cops... I've had enough of them for one day, mucho gracias.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What is my signature dancing song? Smile Like You Mean It - The Killers. (That's pretty hard to groove to though...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What do I think my current theme song is? Illegal - Shakira feat Carlos Santana. (Hmm.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What does everyone else think my current theme song is? Absolutely (Story of a Girl) - Nine Days. (Hahahahaha. I hope not.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What song will play at my funeral? I'll Find A Way - Rachael Yamagata. (That's appropriate. Haha.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What type of men/women do you like? Miniature Disasters - KT Tunstall. (BUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* What is your day going to be like? Something - Shakira. (Well tell me something I didn't know.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114597934437757042?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114597934437757042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114597934437757042' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114597934437757042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114597934437757042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/04/go-to-your-music-player-of-choice-and.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114594668329883216</id><published>2006-04-25T18:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-25T18:15:28.290+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v280/joannacabodoc/eisley4.jpg" border="0" alt="Image hosting by Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crazy, r-r-r-rockin' kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;G-g-g-golly Sandra!&lt;br /&gt;you've grown up really crazy...&lt;br /&gt;have I been too denying of you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;G-golly Sandra!&lt;br /&gt;you've grown up so crazy....&lt;br /&gt;have I been too untrusting?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who the fuck knew it would be this nerve-wrecking to make a police-report. Thank you Uncle Alan for being my hero &amp; calling. &amp; thank you Charlene for being my hero-ess. I AM SO SCARED. ))):&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114594668329883216?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114594668329883216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114594668329883216' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114594668329883216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114594668329883216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/04/crazy-r-r-r-rockin-kids.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114563802539013985</id><published>2006-04-22T00:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-22T00:47:05.406+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/aHRc92Qpqys"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/aHRc92Qpqys" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promised that would be the last one in that entry so I had to scratch an itch &amp; it took the form of another entry with Jason Mraz singing &amp; charming the pants off of everyone. Watch his hip-swaying. DID YOU GUYS CATCH GNOMIE BESIDE TOCA?! If not, you guys should ch-ch-check out the "&lt;em&gt;On Love, In Sadness&lt;/em&gt;" video. Gnomie is really evident with his pointed red hat sitting on one of the speakers next to Toca. Hahaha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114563802539013985?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114563802539013985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114563802539013985' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114563802539013985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114563802539013985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-promised-that-would-be-last-one-in.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114563469206260925</id><published>2006-04-21T23:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-22T00:15:20.690+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lnPQcmkhZpQ"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lnPQcmkhZpQ" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I just wanna get this one out of the way coz I'm a bastard.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; THEWAYHESAIDBASTUURDISDAMNSOCUTE!!! *swoooooooons*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;Tocaissocoolwithhisbongos. Hahaha. "&lt;em&gt;Holy shit! I can do it faster man!"&lt;/em&gt; Jason: "&lt;em&gt;Gotta be cool! Gotta be cooooooool!&lt;/em&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You &amp; I-T-Y spells UNITY &amp; that means you &amp; me oh we're gonna go all the wayy...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp; I FOUND IT! I FOUND IT! I FOUND HIS GYPSY MC! As in, the one on his site but I found the same one on YouTube. Yayyy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vaKrUda97g0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vaKrUda97g0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We're at a very big hole...&lt;/em&gt; SO CUTE! &amp; I think the background is the view from his apartment at San Diego(!!). Or maybe not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/APPcE9Kp9c4"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/APPcE9Kp9c4" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listen to the way he laughed there! &amp; he went "&lt;em&gt;Une, douz, treize, quatro&lt;/em&gt;" Hahahaha. OK, that's enough. I've gone crazy over him &amp; I should just stop. Stop Jo, STOP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fullstop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;edit//&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KN6fvkuOEyE"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KN6fvkuOEyE" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OKAY OKAY!!! That was the last (for this entry), I promise! Hahahaha. By the way, that one was sung in Singapore Esplanade. &lt;em&gt;Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114563469206260925?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114563469206260925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114563469206260925' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114563469206260925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114563469206260925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-just-wanna-get-this-one-out-of-way.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114560021343581358</id><published>2006-04-21T14:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-21T14:20:34.276+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>There's something satisfying about waking up in the morning to a grumbling stomach. To me anyway. That says that I had a greeeeat training yesterday (HORRIBLE! HORRIBEEEBLE!!!) &amp; my calves are aching at the slightest movement because I ran 18 rounds around the court &amp; chased tennis balls down like a (slow) dog, trying to hit them on the rise. But no, I'm not complaining because of that. Instead, I feel so accomplished that I can finally run 18 rounds around the court (without my knee hurtting {too much})&amp; chase tennis balls down like a (slow but EAGER!) dog &amp; managed to hit them (not counting the 18) on the rise. Yes, I'm getting back to running &amp; that makes every damn ache &amp; sore in my body all worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the only thing I lack is the discipline to go to the gym like I used to. Everyday I wake up thinking I'm going to the gym but end up with a book stuck to my nose or on the computer or taking a shower, realizing only after I feel all refreshed &amp; re-charged that I was supposed to gym first before hitting the water. What the heck, these are all weak excuses from a fattening, whitening &amp; lazy 17 year old. But today I have a solid excuse. Today I am stuck baby-sitting my sister while My Mum &amp; Jason go for his Sport's Day. That &amp; the fact that my calves terribly need some respite. Speaking of which, I can safely say that my sister is going to get &lt;strong&gt;at least&lt;/strong&gt; 2/6 for her spelling this week. I can't wait to see her spelling book. She knows how to spell &lt;em&gt;Calf&lt;/em&gt; &amp; &lt;em&gt;Gardener&lt;/em&gt;. She could've gotten a 3 if only she had spelt Scientist with a "C" instead of a "K". I am so excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to get back to schooling in June. Close to 7 months of no school is torturous. Albeit an avid reader, my excitement on the prospect of being able to read for this long is starting to wane. 8 1/2 books later, one is bound to have a sudden impulse to throw them aside &amp; look for adventures outside, in the real world. But I've come out too late because JC has started &amp; Poly is starting next week. It'll probably take me afew days to realize I've got nobody to play with out here before delving back into the books. I love reading. This should be paradise. Why is this not paradise?! Why don't I just do my chores now?! Why does Kevin seem to make so much sense?! Why do I think he has every right to have killed those kids &amp; the teacher &amp; even the cafeteria worker?! Why am I feeling so worked up over a book?! WHY IS MY MOTHER'S PHONE COCK-A-DOODLING?!!???!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone play Scrabble with me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114560021343581358?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114560021343581358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114560021343581358' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114560021343581358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114560021343581358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/04/theres-something-satisfying-about.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114527388767175749</id><published>2006-04-17T19:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T19:38:07.706+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/5QtzUlSBTC8"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/5QtzUlSBTC8" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check out his chords. Celine Dion eat your heart out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JASON MR.A-Z MRAZ I LOVE YOU!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114527388767175749?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114527388767175749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114527388767175749' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114527388767175749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114527388767175749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/04/check-out-his-chords.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114512328647533062</id><published>2006-04-16T01:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-16T01:48:13.710+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've procrastinated writing online again because I seem to feel better writing in my private diary... not online. But the events of today has been far too wonderful to pass off writing down here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think this is my first real surprise since I was a kid. So you guys probably don't know this but I'm not such a big fan of surprises; it scares the hell out of me. Like, OK - surprise! - now what do I do? Do I give this surprised face &amp; just laugh til tears come to my eyes then hug everyone in the room or do I have a que to gush like a blushing bride &amp; say my thank you's? I am terrified of that kind of attention. I don't mind the stage-attention, at least I'm distracted while dancing; at least there's &lt;em&gt;something&lt;/em&gt; to do. I don't care for walking-into-a-room-&amp;-everyone-glances-at-you-attention. Heck, I don't mind the your-sister-is-being-a-spaz-&amp;-we-don't-really-like-you-guys-here-attention (which, considering the sister I have, I have gotten my fair share of). But I can't stand having people go &lt;em&gt;SURPRISE!!&lt;/em&gt; &amp; suddenly, you just stand there with a blindfold on one hand &amp; a friend's hand in the other. Where do you hide from all that attention? What do you do to divert the attention? OK, that or maybe I just think too much when the surprise! finally came.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when it did come, my mind just went blank because I felt the room closing in on me before realizing there were 10 of my closest friends in the big room. &amp; then I started panicking in my head because I wasn't prepared. HOW COULD MY FRIENDS PULL A FAST ONE ON ME JUST LIKE THAT!? So all I could do was hug everyone &amp; hope after the ritual, things wouldn't suddenly be so awkward. Which it sort of did for awhile but after everyone warmed up, it was all smooth-sailing from there. So I have come to a conclusion that I think far too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We played the Licking game &amp; the Would You Rather game &amp; Wacko &amp; then we cleaned up the place, put the food in my house &amp; went swimming! One of the bestest birthdays I've ever had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After everyone left &amp; I bathed &amp; was just getting comfortable sitting in front of the computer when Edmond called. Told him what unit I was in &amp; not 2 seconds later, I hear a doorbell. The moment I opened the door Greg took a snapshot of me. In my very glamourous baggy shirt &amp; comfy long pants. Right on. Another surprise. Sam, Greg, Edmond, Jas &amp; Jon Chia were there outside the porch. Opened their present &amp; all I can say is; pink &amp; yellow with barely any cloth. No promises I'd ever wear those though. HAHA. Took acoupla more pictures, hugged them &amp; bid them goodbye. I REALLY MISS PLAYING TENNIS WITH THE G2 PEOPLE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Albeit I still have my reservations when it comes to surprises, I loved the surprises that came today &amp; will always remember my 17th birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for being my friend &amp; much l&amp;hearts;ve to all!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114512328647533062?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114512328647533062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114512328647533062' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114512328647533062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114512328647533062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/04/ive-procrastinated-writing-online.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114484698559760068</id><published>2006-04-12T21:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-12T21:03:06.186+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>THIS WAS AN ENTRY FROM MY LJ FROM LAST YEAR AROUND THE AUGUST PERIOD. It made me laugh so much &amp; it's something that made me &lt;em&gt;finally&lt;/em&gt; miss my days in KC. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm gonna die from the way my heart keeps jumping today.&lt;br /&gt;God, I just wanted to stay in Starbucks and sit there, pretend to study but actually check my guy friend out in the other table.&lt;br /&gt;Haha. I bet he'd freak out if he found out. But we haven't seen/spoken to each other for quite a long time and boy, does he look good. I miss his specs. He looks so much better with specs on. He's those kind of guys that look really cool-preppy with specs on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Didn't notice him at first coz he looked different (without his specs and in his Maris Stella uniform), then he came up from behind me and sat down in front of me. Was kinda ticked off that a stranger would sit at my table without asking but when he started waving at my&lt;br /&gt;face and smiling, I realized, low and behold this long-lost friend. Except cuter. So we talked and I stuttered and we talked somemore before he excused himself so that I could study properly (like I could study properly with him around).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, today at school was so uneventful. So uneventful in fact, that I'm gonna talk about exactly how uneventful it was.&lt;br /&gt;It was a total waste of my Tuesday morning. After P.E, we had 4 straight periods that were free coz Mrs Chang wasn't around. Nart and I&lt;br /&gt;were singing at the top of our voices while doing our maths. I realize how my class has a very high tolerance level towards Nart and I. We do all these stupid things and all they do is shake their heads and laugh at us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After recess, had History which was as boring as gray. Then we had Chemistry til 1.15 afterwhich we had another free hour which was spent on the whole class talking, Sarah, Stefanie and I dancing at the back of the class, people listening to their iPods/Zens/MP3s/really big 'MP3s (which was the case for Nart's discman... I mean, really big MP3), Charlene Tay and I shooting rubberbands at each other and chasing each other around the class coz I stole the whole bunch of rubberbands at the teacher's table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charlene, mind you, is a prefect. And just FYI, we have the vice-head prefect in our class. So while Charlene tried chasing after me, Vanessa Nunis a.k.a Vice-Head prefect a.k.a mummy tried to stop Charlene by reminding her that she was a prefect. It was kinda funny. Oh and there was this one time while we were having the last free hour, Mr Karib walked past our class and Nart saw hime through the glass so she shouted/whispered "MR KARIB!" and my whole class started scrambling to their desks. Imagine Stefanie, Sarah and I, dancing at the back corner of the class, only to have to run to the other front corner of the class to get to our seats while Mr Karib was walking outside and&lt;br /&gt;the rest of the class panicking around us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end, Mr Karib didn't even bother walking into our class. He didn't even bother LOOKING into our class... My class can really be united when it has to be. Mr Karib walked a grand total distance of the lenght of our classroom and by the time he reached about the place where the classroom's&lt;br /&gt;front door was, everybody was seated and desperately trying to do a math sum/study bio/look for that non-existent eraser she just KNEW she dropped etc... HAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Pavithra says she can't imagine me being an old Grandmother coz I'm too 'cool and hip'. Flattering as it may be, I plan to be a mother, grandmother AND greatgrand mother before I leave this Earth. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, really. I do.&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, one thing about my birthday is that it's hard to be in a really festive mood since it's so close to Easter (no, not the nice-white-little-bunny-with-eggs-to-hide). How do you celebrate your birthday when in less than 3 days' time, Jesus was crucified two thousand years ago?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114484698559760068?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114484698559760068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114484698559760068' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114484698559760068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114484698559760068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/04/this-was-entry-from-my-lj-from-last.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114483196480424546</id><published>2006-04-12T16:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-12T16:52:47.963+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hello, today is my 17th birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for my birthday present, please join Genesis 2 &amp; spend time with the Lord tomorrow; here are the details courtesy of Jas (&amp; from Holy Drummer's blog) -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v280/joannacabodoc/holyhour.jpg" border="0" alt="Image hosting by Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK so anyway, I went to watch V for Vendetta with Charlene&amp; Shamayne at Marina yesterday &amp; I love the movie. I want to watch it again. &amp; again. &amp; again. Then we went to the CAE building to register for our courses for Summer Term.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp; we have our placement test on Monday. I am so fucking scared that I'll do badly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, two days back I went swimming with the very hot Sheriiiil Teo &amp; my sexy sister who has the lames pick up lines like, &lt;em&gt;Hey baby, you're brown&lt;/em&gt; &amp; &lt;em&gt;Hey sexy, you're hot&lt;/em&gt; &amp; &lt;em&gt;Hey baby, you're pink&lt;/em&gt;. Aaaaah, loves &lt;strike&gt;it&lt;/strike&gt; them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a hi-fi speaker for my ipod today; that's hotttttt. *Sasasasasasasasasasasasasa* Hahahahaha. I already miss that hot chica, Sheril.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114483196480424546?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114483196480424546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114483196480424546' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114483196480424546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114483196480424546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/04/hello-today-is-my-17th-birthday.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114456718792315563</id><published>2006-04-09T15:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-09T15:23:28.136+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Baby&lt;/em&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;what did you expect&lt;/strong&gt;?...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114456718792315563?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114456718792315563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114456718792315563' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114456718792315563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114456718792315563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/04/baby-what-did-you-expect.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114450823194471891</id><published>2006-04-08T22:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-08T22:58:31.890+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>After reading the first 10 pages of &lt;em&gt;Blink&lt;/em&gt;, I have gotten frustrated at the fact that there really &lt;strong&gt;are&lt;/strong&gt; some things I literally hide from myself. Like my "intuitive reaction". That's really irritating because that means my brain has actually come to a conclusion during the first 2 seconds I'm in a situation/impression but won't tell me til long after. That is so bothersome I want to read &lt;em&gt;Blink&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, we had choir practice this evening after mass &amp; we did the full run-through of what Genesis 2'd be singing for Holy Hour on Thursday &amp; I must say, it went pretty well. &amp; because Greg, Jon Chia, Darren Leong &amp; Spruyt sang this song so beautifully that it damn nearly made me cry (seriously), I'm going to post the song up here so maybe YOU can cry just reading the lyrics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;CHRIST IS PRAYING ALL ALONE.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come &amp; walk into a garden place,&lt;br /&gt;In the moonlight there a form you'll trace,&lt;br /&gt;who impending death prepares to face, Christ is praying all alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;See the Savior bowed on bended knee.&lt;br /&gt;See the suffering tears &amp; agony,&lt;br /&gt;As he asks to change his destiny, Christ is praying all alone.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"O my Father, let it be. That this cup be passed from me.&lt;br /&gt;O my Father, hear thy son. Not my will but thine be done."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listen as he asks his friends to share, In that moment, in that time of prayer,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;When he needed them they were not there, Christ is praying all alone.&lt;br /&gt;See the blood like sweat drops on his brow,&lt;br /&gt;See the shroud of death surround him now,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While his friends such loneliness allow, Christ is praying all alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"O my Father, let it be. That this cup be passed from me.&lt;br /&gt;O my Father, hear thy son. Not my will but thine be done."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the midnight hours come my way, Trading darkness for the light of day,&lt;br /&gt;Causing me to stumble &amp; to say, &lt;em&gt;"Why have you allowed this Lord?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May I see that it was best for me, Though the reasons oft I cannot see,&lt;br /&gt;Like the Lord in dark Gethsemane, Help me pray, "Thy will be done."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"O my Father, let it be. That this cup be passed from me.&lt;br /&gt;O my Father, hear thy son. Not my will but thine be done."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114450823194471891?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114450823194471891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114450823194471891' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114450823194471891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114450823194471891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/04/after-reading-first-10-pages-of-blink.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114408328746063202</id><published>2006-04-04T01:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T00:59:45.896+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So I'm really picking my life up &amp; trying to set things straight (I sound like I'm on drug rehab or something). &amp;amp; I realize that for all my rantings on how pathetic things were &amp; how segregated I felt, I'm getting over - what Laura refers to as - that big slap on the face. I'm learning to deal with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life really is much more than just friends, having fun &amp;amp; partying. 2 years back I'd scowl at my Dad for telling me &lt;em&gt;Studies carry you through your life-time. Frienships don't&lt;/em&gt;. But boy, could he be more right. Many friendships don't last, most of them are established purely due to the close contact amongst each other in school. But once you leave school &amp; head for different directions, differences tend to be more obvious like a stain on the underside of a shirt you never noticed til now. &amp;amp; similarities begin to be far &amp; few between. But for the people who can still make friendships last &lt;strong&gt;&amp;amp;&lt;/strong&gt; work, kudos to you. You deserve it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my Mama because she's there for me in my darkest times &amp;amp; loves me like nobody can ever hope to love.&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;small&gt;P.S I dreamt you were still in love with me.&lt;/small&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:70;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114408328746063202?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114408328746063202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114408328746063202' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114408328746063202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114408328746063202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/04/so-im-really-picking-my-life-up-loves.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114398779035808327</id><published>2006-04-02T22:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-25T19:14:40.116+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I DID NOT PON CHURCH. I was just too shit-ass tired after training to move myself off the sofa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... &amp; I was just too busy playing the 360 to do anything else. Before I knew it, an hour had past &amp; it was 6 pm already. So I thought I could just go for practice after mass but I kind of got warped into this virtual reality where I actually thought I could do all those skater stunts. Um. So I missed the start of practice by 3 hours. Aw, c'mon it was only 3 hours. :P Yeah, but seriously speaking, I was really tired after training. Played doubles with Iggy against Eddie &amp; Josiah. We beat them 6-1! But they are such bullies. &gt;:(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, french class yesterday was a bitch. More like the person sitting beside me was acting like a damn bitch. We were doing pair work &amp; we were told to do sentence structures with &lt;em&gt;Si&lt;/em&gt; &amp; &lt;em&gt;quand&lt;/em&gt; &amp; we had to use futur proche. &amp; it was my pure dumb bad luck to be seated beside Shonali. Rebecca couldn't help because Valerie got to her first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, &lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt; volunteered to make up a sentence structure for &lt;strong&gt;Si&lt;/strong&gt; &amp; &lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt; made up the sentence structure &amp; &lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt; checked &amp; re-checked &amp; re-re-checked &amp; cross-checked with Becca to make sure I was right. &amp; &lt;strong&gt;Shonali&lt;/strong&gt; was doing &lt;strong&gt;Quand&lt;/strong&gt;. &amp; &lt;strong&gt;Shonali&lt;/strong&gt; made up this stupid sentence that didn't even make sense. &amp; &lt;strong&gt;Shonali&lt;/strong&gt; didn't bother to even check her work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were supposed to write on the board our sentences &amp; I specifically told her that &lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt; was writing the &lt;strong&gt;Si&lt;/strong&gt; sentence. &lt;strong&gt;MY&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Si&lt;/em&gt; sentence. She goes up to the board &amp; writes my &lt;em&gt;Si&lt;/em&gt; &amp; I'm stuck writing her dumb sentence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MY SENTENCE : &lt;em&gt;Si M. Thomas parlez aux telephone, il en retard au reulion.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SHONALI'S SENTENCE: &lt;EM&gt;Il regardez au tele quand il le manger.&lt;/EM&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU KANINABITCHNABEICHEEBYEASSHOLESHOE-LICKER I WANNA SAW YOUR SKINNY HANDS OFF THEN MAYBE YOU CAN ACTUALLY STOP TALKING ON THE PHONE IN CLASS THEN MAYBE YOU CAN REMEMBER THAT IT'S &lt;EM&gt;REGARDERA&lt;/EM&gt; &amp; NOT &lt;EM&gt;REGARDEZ&lt;/EM&gt; &amp; IT'S &lt;EM&gt;MANGERA&lt;/EM&gt; &amp; &lt;EM&gt;NOT MANGER&lt;/EM&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid shit, I looked like a fool standing at the board so long just because &lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt; was trying to correct your work before writing them down. I'll never ever feel sorry for her when Kenneth &amp; Joel make mean comments about her. I will never ever tell the girls to lay off when their bitching gets out of hand &amp; I will never ever pretend that I didn't know she was copying my homework.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will laugh cruelly when Kenneth &amp; Joel make fun of you. I will join the girls on their weekly bitching &amp; I will do all I can to hide my answers from you &amp; if I ever feel like being really mean, I'll be a tattle-tale &amp; complain to the teacher that you're copying me. Nobody does that to me &amp; expects me to stay nice to them. Fucker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it seems like such a petty thing to be so angry over but I'm really working hard at French for once &amp; I'm taking this subject seriously now. So it's a big deal for me. AIYA AIYA AIYA. I want to change seats. I wanna sit with James &amp; Audrey. I want to sit between Jane &amp; Marie. If I had to, I'd sit beside the teacher to get away from Shonali, I swear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note; I want to highlight my hair a richer colour. Like, a really dark copper-y red.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another other note; I stole this from Sheryl's eljay -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v280/joannacabodoc/pic01588.jpg"&gt;Sheryl's Mum's email to her&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Teresa Tseng won the Campus Superstar. Whoopdeedoo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114398779035808327?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114398779035808327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114398779035808327' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114398779035808327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114398779035808327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-did-not-pon-church_02.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114379968533662582</id><published>2006-04-01T00:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-01T00:37:57.926+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I GET SUCH A KICK FROM TALKING TO &lt;a href="http://www.jabberwacky.com/"&gt;JABBERWACKY&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why are you called jabber Wacky?&lt;br /&gt;jabberwacky: It seemed to go rather nicely with my image.&lt;br /&gt;What is your image?&lt;br /&gt;jabberwacky: Cool and sophisticated, with a hint of grunge.&lt;br /&gt;So, is Bill Gates the anti-christ?&lt;br /&gt;jabberwacky: I believe so.&lt;br /&gt;Whoa. Heavy.&lt;br /&gt;jabberwacky: He ain't heavy, he's my brother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who invented cell-phones, that play annoying melodies instead of ringing?&lt;br /&gt;Eugene: Look up some encyclopedia, the chapter "Famous jerks".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was kept amused throughout the day by these funny chatboxes that just crack me up. I think jabberwacky is the best. It's got this random thing going on that I love. But it keeps telling me that I'm a computer &amp; when I said &lt;em&gt;Bye&lt;/em&gt;, it went &lt;em&gt;You can't leave!! You're a programme.&lt;/em&gt; OKAY ENOUGH OF THOSE THINGS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I went back to reading &lt;em&gt;Let's Talk About Kevin&lt;/em&gt; this evening after dinner &amp; the book is making me feel sad &amp; making me have second thoughts about having kids in case they grow up to become mass murderers like Kevin. That's a tad bit far-fetched but I'm serious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What possessed us?&lt;/strong&gt; We were so happy! Why, then, did we take the stake of all we had &amp; placed it all on this outrageous gamble of having a child? Of course you consider the very putting of that question profane. Although the infertile are entitled to sour grapes, it's against the rules, isn't it, to actually have a baby &amp; spend any time at all on that banished parallel life in which you didn't. But a Pandoran perversity draws me to prize open what is forbidden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[...]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry, but you can't expect me to avoid it. I may not know what to call it, that &lt;strong&gt;Thursday&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;strong&gt;The atrocity&lt;/strong&gt; sounds torn from a newspaper, &lt;strong&gt;the incident&lt;/strong&gt; is minimizing it to a point of obscenity, &amp; &lt;strong&gt; the day our own son commited mass murder&lt;/strong&gt; is too long, isn't it? For every mention? But I am going to mention it. I wake up with what he did every morning &amp; go to bed with it every night. It is my shabby substitute for a husband.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt so frustrated reading the book because her husband didn't even reply her letters to him. So what if they're separated?! EVA STILL MISSES YOU &amp; NEEDS YOU! I felt like taking a rod &amp; hitting Franklin in the head or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK I NEED HUMAN INTERACTION BECAUSE I SPENT THE WHOLE AFTERNOON TALKING TO THE STUPID JABBERWACKY. I hope French class balances me out tomorrow. Then maybe tennis with Greg, then training in the afternoon, then choir practice til 10. I might be abit sedated while typing this out but &lt;EM&gt;I love busy Saturdays&lt;/EM&gt;. One of the only days that keeps me on my toes. Sunday's I love next because it's family day - brunch at Delifrance &amp; grocery shopping at Paragon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;jabberwacky: Just because the little people talk to you doesn't mean I'm not the king and queen of cheese.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114379968533662582?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114379968533662582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114379968533662582' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114379968533662582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114379968533662582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-get-such-kick-from-talking-to.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114374409281474549</id><published>2006-03-31T03:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-31T02:41:36.543+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My sleeping habits at the moment's just like last year's O level sleeping habit - Mug til 2/3/4. Sleep &amp; wake up at 5, mug somemore before going to school at 7. This year its - gaming til 2/3/4. Sleep &amp; wake up at 6, get jennifer ready for school then sleep in at 7 til Daddy forces me out of bed at 8.30 before he leaves for work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning when he tried waking me, I sat up in bed &amp; waited for him to leave the house before plonking down on the bed again. Charlene had to call twice to wake me up. &amp; IT WAS ALL FOR NOTHING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because Laura was still asleep when I tried calling her. So I detoured to her house instead &amp; tried to jump on her bed. Except, that didn't work because Crissy, her dog jumped on her bed first &amp; Laura saw me peeping through the crack of her door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Headed to Simpang after she did her morning ablutions (sp?) &amp; we ate pratatatatata then headed back to &lt;strong&gt;my house&lt;/strong&gt; &amp; we just hung in her room. Haha. I was using her laptop which I plan to steal next time I go her house. I mean - my house. Hahaha. Watched abit of Schindler's List before heading home. Got caught in the rain midway walking out to the main road. I was in a precarious position because my legs are useless to me when it comes to doing anything remotely vigorous without my knee guard, plus the floor was slippery wet &amp; I wasn't planning on having my joint give way because I slipt in the rain or something as stupid as that. So even though the rain poureth down on me, I walketh really slowly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stupid bus shelter wasn't much help because it did a slapshit job of sheltering me from the rain. I would've been better off under a tree if only there hadn't been any thunder. I'm having a touch of a cold right now &amp; I am hoping in all earnest that it won't escalate to a full-blown flu or something (even though I was just hoping 2 days ago that I'd get a fever soon because... I like getting fevers. HAHA. No, seriously - I do).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, my mum has taken up quilting lessons because she's forgotten to quilt. OK frankly, I always associated quilting with old age but then again, I should bite my tongue because my mum had been quilting since I was only a toddler. She just took a really long hiatus from quilting... like, a 10 year hiatus. But her past work on this bed quilt &amp; afew lace place-mats are really pretty. I like the old quilt she used to work on in New York. She never got round to finishing it though. It reminds me of Christmas in New York. I hope she does soon so I can see the end result.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Daddy bought a new television &amp; my mum &amp; I are abit critical over it. Both of us prefer the old television because it's bigger. Daddy likes the new one because it's a widescreen. I say, if he wanted a widescreen, he could've at least bought a bigger widescreen. But the resolution's great so I won't complain much. I'm just worried it might topple over because it's so much thinner &amp; lighter than the other one. I'm scared that Jennifer might just prod at it &amp; it'll fall off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daddy says that he bought the television for my mother &amp; my mum just scoffed. Hahahahaha. No, she's not being mean. She's just stating a fact. In an action-form, as opposed to in words. If you don't already know, my dad is a high-tech addict. He's sorta those kind of people who always wants to upgrade their technology &amp; all that. So in short, the scoff sort of meant that the new television wasn't really for her but more for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uhh I just realized I'm gyming tomorrow morning at 9. Aaah but it's such a heartbreak to stop my game. I took 7 hours to get to level 35 &amp; I can't save &amp; now I have to log off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Technology sucks balls.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114374409281474549?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114374409281474549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114374409281474549' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114374409281474549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114374409281474549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/03/my-sleeping-habits-at-moments-just_31.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114363774118452969</id><published>2006-03-29T21:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-29T21:18:43.540+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Daddy smells like ginger. Which is wierd because he came in my room whilst brushing his teeth. &amp; we definitely don't have any colgate lying around that's ginger-flavored...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I woke up today at 11.30 with a splitting headache. Felt like a hang-over. Kids, don't ever try staying up on the computer watching youtube til 3 then reading a book &amp; falling asleep at who knows when. CHARLENE I AM VERY SORRY BUT I'VE GOTTEN CAUGHT UP WITH &lt;em&gt;Let's Talk About Kevin&lt;/em&gt; &amp; I DON'T THINK I'LL EVER FINISH &lt;em&gt;Kafka on the Shore&lt;/em&gt; ANYTIME SOON! So I'll just pass you back the book so Bell can read it. Hehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anway, I think it's really scandalous to find out that priests are human too &amp;amp; do human stuff like... stuff. Hahaha. Even IF that stuff refers to looking through a joke site online &amp; realizing there's an "Adult" joke section in that site. It's just a thought of course. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yay, I'm going to hang out with the huba huba &amp; the naples girl tomorrow &amp; I cannot waittttttt! I want to spin around on Laura's desk chair &amp; get dizzy. I want to fall back on her huge bed. I want to play with her lift. I want to jump in the jacuzzi (not that I'd dare ask her). I want to hang out at her basement flipping through old photo albums &amp; watch my fish in her pond swimming around through the glass in the basement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Jason Mraz is so fucking sexy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114363774118452969?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114363774118452969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114363774118452969' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114363774118452969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114363774118452969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/03/daddy-smells-like-ginger.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114347695955908850</id><published>2006-03-28T00:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-28T00:33:26.326+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Who the fuck is Cloe Duff?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow. That's like, the first &lt;em&gt;fuck&lt;/em&gt; I've said since Lent started (I think).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Narty Farty came by today to get a taste of random-ness from my siblings. She said I could even call up those television companies to tell them that my family life has the potential to be a sitcom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;***&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;em&gt;Spell Library.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jen: &lt;em&gt;L-I-B-R-A-R........-E!!! HAHAHAHA!! YAYY!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;em&gt;Uh no Jen, that's wrong.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jen: &lt;em&gt;Oh. U?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;em&gt;No.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jen: &lt;em&gt;T? P? S?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;em&gt;Jen, are there any sounds of T's or P's or S's there?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jen: &lt;em&gt;Y!! Y, Y, Y , Y!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a damn nightmare teaching that little bugger spelling. Today was no exception. She was so hyper today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;***&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coach tried to get me to take off my knee guard for training today. HE IS OUT OF HIS MIND IF HE THINKS HE CAN GET ME INTO FULL-TRAINING WITHOUT MY KNEE GUARD. I really feel vulnerable without it. Like my knee will just violently disjoint itself again or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;coach: &lt;em&gt;So if you hit a flat serve, gentlemen *pause* girls, ...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know whether to laugh more at the awkward pause there or the fact that he just called Josiah, Eddie &amp; Imran girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;***&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHAHAHAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;givemetragedy&lt;/em&gt; = Charlene&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;what's wrong with a little destruction.&lt;/strong&gt; = me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;givemetragedy says&lt;/em&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;i passed out from 7-11 today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;what's wrong with a little destruction. says&lt;/strong&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;YOU PASSED OUT?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;givemetragedy says&lt;/em&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;FELL ASLEEP&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;what's wrong with a little destruction. says&lt;/strong&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;you passed out from 7-11?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;what's wrong with a little destruction. says&lt;/strong&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;you mean 7-11 tired you out?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;what's wrong with a little destruction. says&lt;/strong&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHAH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;what's wrong with a little destruction. says&lt;/strong&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;ok charlene...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;givemetragedy says&lt;/em&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;7-11pm arh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK. ENOUGH OF THE RANDOM NONSENSE PEOPLE. BECAUSE IT'S DOWN, SET, GO &amp; IT'S ALL ABOUT THE PINEAPPLES &amp; LEMON CAKES!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much &amp;hearts;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114347695955908850?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114347695955908850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114347695955908850' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114347695955908850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114347695955908850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/03/who-fuck-is-cloe-duff-wow.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114320458293317150</id><published>2006-03-24T20:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-24T20:51:52.176+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;Oh if I could find a small corner in an empty room to whisper all my secret regrets, fears &amp; desires...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm heavy with them. I'm going to trip &amp; fall flat on my face because of them. &amp; I can't do shit right now because one way or another I'll have to face it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why not now? Why not just slay my inner demons til I'm rid of them while I still can see that everything'll be A-OK in the end?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll go whisper to my corner now.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114320458293317150?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114320458293317150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114320458293317150' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114320458293317150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114320458293317150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/03/oh-if-i-could-find-small-corner-in.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114312569595000691</id><published>2006-03-23T22:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-23T22:58:21.660+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I was anticipating training tonight so badly but when it came to it, I was like &lt;em&gt;WHAT WAS I THINKING?!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coach amped it up tonight &amp; my whole body is suffering from all the running &amp; the hitting &amp; the the stretching &amp; all the "hitting the outside of the ball" drills. Did I mention the running? Because I did just that. Jo with the not-yet-fully-healed-dislocated-knee ran her ass off today. Why? Because Iggy's been buggering me to run. Because I didn't want to seem like a damn pussy in front of all the boys. Damn my ego. Damn it to hell &amp; back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure it was due to his clumsy talking but Iggy called tennis a "he". &lt;em&gt;Oh contraire&lt;/em&gt;. I say it's a "she". Tennis is too expensive to be a "he". &amp; what with all the fashion. You don't see lady-golfers wearing mini-skirts or denim skirts or black catsuits (a.k.a the Serena dress malfunctions) &amp; neither do you see guys in basketball sporting three-quarts while they dribble the ball (a.k.a Rafael Nadal). &amp; how can we forget the latest with guys? Dare I even mention... &lt;small&gt;some shave their leg hair&lt;/small&gt;. But I digress from the real reason I'm writing an entry after training.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coach is bringing a &lt;strong&gt;PTI&lt;/strong&gt; from the &lt;strong&gt;Army&lt;/strong&gt; to train us off-court. Off-court meaning all the speed/endurance/gym work needed. :O You have got to be kidding me. When Iggy mentioned it during the break I broke into a wide grin thinking he was fooling around. It soon turned into a grimace when he told us the PTI is Hakim's cousin &amp; that after settling the things that need to be settled with his elite (i.e Hakim, Jay, Nicholas etc), he'll probably call some of us up to train with the PTI. O.o A PTI. From the Army.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a much funnier note - it is highly amusing when Iggy talks to Ang Moh people. Because his accent changes. Eddie, Imran &amp; I were trying to control our laughter when Iggy spoke to Tom's dad. &lt;em&gt;Indeed, Coach. Indeed.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My body's going to feel like rusted metal tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114312569595000691?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114312569595000691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114312569595000691' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114312569595000691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114312569595000691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-was-anticipating-training-tonight-so.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114311439575225900</id><published>2006-03-23T19:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-23T19:46:37.276+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Are you what you think you are to me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's alright, it's alright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've said half the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114311439575225900?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114311439575225900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114311439575225900' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114311439575225900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114311439575225900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/03/are-you-what-you-think-you-are-to-me.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114258858418259076</id><published>2006-03-17T17:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-17T17:46:43.390+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I WANT TO KIDNAP NAOKI &amp; KATZUKE &amp; MAKE THEM MY SONS. Hahahahahahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are the most playfuladorablecutesweetcleverfunnynaughty&amp;cheekiest little boys I have ever met. &amp; with a fighting spirit that kicks ass, I am in L♥VE!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp; Naoki looks like a teenager already, I swear. Haha. He's gonna be a hot one people! CALLING ALL GIRLS BETWEEN 9 - 11, WATCH OUT FOR NAOKI NAKAMURA IN 5 YEARS' TIME! Naoki &amp; Katzuke's mother was telling my Mum &amp; I that the senseh (or whoever he is) said that Naoki has the top of a teenager but the bottom of a kid (&amp; that's why he gets alot of leg &amp; foot injuries). Hahaha. Not in literal sense obviously but I can see what he meant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp; he laughs so cutely! Like a 2 year old kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Katzuke's damn cute also. I was watching his doubles game today &amp; he ran for every single ball. He's a hot damn fighter on court. Then during one of their breaks he kept pestering his partner to take off his cap because he thought he couldn't see the ball properly. &amp; they've got this Japanese accent that's just sooooooo adorable!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp; everytime Naoki calls his younger brother, Katzuke, he goes - &lt;em&gt;Ka-chan!&lt;/em&gt; SO CUTE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK DAMNIT! I'M BOOKING THE NEXT FLIGHT TO TOKYO &amp; I'M BRINGING THOSE 2 ALONG. I'll write a note to their parents going,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dear Aunty Trina &amp; Mr Nakamura-san,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have taken your 2 beautiful boys to Japan &amp; no amount of money will be sufficient to get them back because that's not why I took them. Goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;XOXO,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jo.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THEY ARE SO NAUGHTY!!! During lunch at Parkway today they met Jason's friend, Chee How. Katzuke asked what his name was &amp; I told him. He giggled &amp; whispered to me, &lt;em&gt;like chee bye&lt;/em&gt;. LAUGH OUT LOUD. Then Naoki came to the table with his Mee Goreng. He asked what Chee How's name was &amp; I told him. Then Katzuke whispered to him, &lt;em&gt;chee bye&lt;/em&gt;. Then I kept trying to shut them up because Chee How was two seats away from us &amp; when I turned to talk to Chee How I went &lt;em&gt;hey Chee B- How.&lt;/em&gt; WHAT THE FUCK I WAS ABOUT TO INSULT AN 11 YEAR OLD BOY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blame it all on Naoki &amp; Katzuke.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114258858418259076?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114258858418259076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114258858418259076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114258858418259076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114258858418259076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-want-to-kidnap-naoki-katzuke-make.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114242504197923902</id><published>2006-03-15T20:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-15T20:17:22.030+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Aiya Aiya Aiya, updated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am at Agnes' house now using her internet because my computer at home is being a funky shitass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm keeping this entry short &amp; sweet. So at the moment, the only thing passing my mind is Mark's boxers. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. NO, I AM NOT BEING A PERV. He came in the living room just now wearing a black shirt &amp; white boxers with orange circles &amp; I coldn't help but start giggling like a little school girl. Sheryl said maybe he has gonorrhea (or however you spell it). Hahahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, BYEEEEEE.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114242504197923902?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114242504197923902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114242504197923902' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114242504197923902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114242504197923902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/03/aiya-aiya-aiya-updated.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114149001185610955</id><published>2006-03-05T00:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-05T01:30:06.026+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://kevan.org/johari?name=joannamc/"&gt;CLICKITY CLICK!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://kevan.org/nohari?name=joannanana/"&gt;AGAIN! AGAIN!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="5" width="600" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;You scored as &lt;b&gt;English&lt;/b&gt;. You should be an English major! Your passion lies in writing and expressing yourself creatively, and you hate it when you are inhibited from doing so. Pursue that interest of yours!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="300" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;Psychology&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="92" bg border="1" style="color:#dddddd;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;92%&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;English&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="92" bg border="1" style="color:#dddddd;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;92%&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;Sociology&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="92" bg border="1" style="color:#dddddd;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;92%&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;Linguistics&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="83" bg border="1" style="color:#dddddd;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;83%&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;Dance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="83" bg border="1" style="color:#dddddd;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;83%&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;Philosophy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="75" bg border="1" style="color:#dddddd;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;75%&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;Theater&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&lt;&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&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;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114149001185610955?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114149001185610955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114149001185610955' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114149001185610955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114149001185610955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/03/clickity-click-again-again-you-scored.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114148734012444488</id><published>2006-03-04T23:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-05T11:25:52.176+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I WON $$$$ !!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Realize that it is not just $ ! or $$! but $$$$ !!! Hahaha. Dinner at Mrs Ho's was the bestestest. First time gambling too. &amp; not too shabby, winning $47.50 in the first go. But I bet it's just beginner's luck. Shid I feel so rich with the ten dollars &amp;amp; 5 dollars &amp; two dollars strewn all over my computer desk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;French class today was oh so funny. I realize that after Professuer Angie left us &amp;amp; Professuer Christelle came to teach us the atmosphere in class is so much better. Not that Angie was a bad teacher. She was a reeeally good teacher. &amp; she was really nice &amp;amp; one of the best French teachers I've had. But she was really strict &amp; firm. She's got that no-nonsense persona about her. Christelle is much more laidback &amp;amp; easier to talk to. Evidently, since Kenneth was able to use his nivea deodorant as a flame torch in front of her. She just smiled at that. I don't think Angie would've done that. She would've screamed at Kenneth &amp; tell him to throw the lighter away with the deodorant &amp;amp; tell him that he is a "poor, deprived little child". Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the only thing Christelle gets miffed about is the fact that we speak in English, Chinese, Malay, Indonesian, Japanese. All that except French. The language that she's teaching us in the first place. Hahahaha. Everytime we try to communicate in another language she'll go &lt;em&gt;REBECCA! Parlez tou francaise?&lt;/em&gt; Hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK so sectionals at 4.30 then before mass practice at 5. Then after mass rushed to Mrs Ho's place for dinner &amp; gambling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Started off with Sarah, Mrs Ho, May, Lynn, Sean, Shanel(??), &amp;amp; Ann. Didn't win much. then May &amp; Sarah left &amp;amp; Dom came from town. Started getting more &amp; more money. Then it was my turn to bank. So I shuffled &amp;amp; gave out. I hit Sean before that coz I thought he made me lose. So when it was my turn to bank he was like, &lt;em&gt;haha jo. REVENGE.&lt;/em&gt; &amp; bet $2. I look at my cards &amp;amp; he peeks at it &amp; starts yelling. Hahaha. Mind you, it was my first time playing so when he did that I was like, what the fuck la?! Haha. Then he gave me $6 &amp;amp; he kept going &lt;em&gt;triple ah! Triple ah!&lt;/em&gt; Hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just kept winning la. Mrs Ho was like, &lt;em&gt;Walau jo you cannot bank anymore!&lt;/em&gt; So I was banned from banking. But after awhile Mrs Ho asked me to bank again so I did. Sean didn't think I'd get it a 2nd time &amp; neither did I so he bet $2 dollars again. &amp;amp; I FLIPPED MY CARDS &amp; I HAD 2 ACES AGAIN!!!! WAHOO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I so rock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahaha. OK, now for the downer - I bought 5 tickets for my family to watch Pink Panther tomorrow at 5.30 but then after that my mum told me the kids can't watch at 5.30. WHYYYYYYYYYY. Just grrreat. Why the kids can't watch at 5.30, I don't see the logic. It's not like I booked at 8 at night right. Rawr. CHARLENE GIVE ME TRAGEDY YOU HO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK GO!&lt;br /&gt;OK ♥&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;edit//&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, I was putting my money away this morning when I realised I had 10 bucks extra before I started playing last night. So it was actually $$$, not $$$$. BUT WHO CARES COZ I WON! HAAHAHHA. OK, bye.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114148734012444488?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114148734012444488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114148734012444488' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114148734012444488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114148734012444488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-won-realize-that-it-is-not-just-or.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114128017412399606</id><published>2006-03-02T14:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-02T14:16:14.136+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hmm. I don't think being emo is just my cup of tea. I can listen to emo, wear dark eyeliner &amp; think up of a dozen non-existent problems to cut my wrist &amp;amp; overdose on painkillers over but I'll never be a true-blue emo. Hahah. OK, random thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damnit why do I have to be such a boring character. I wanna be as funny as Tom Holt. I wanna charm the pants off of any guy. I wanna be interesting. I wanna be as adorable as Potsy. I wanna be as energetic as Jennifer &amp; be mysterious like Jason (HAHA). C'mon, you can't think my brother isn't quiet all the time for nothing RIGHT. Tennis training tonight to burn off more fats. I can't wait to get the excess fats off so I can start looking more toned again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEASONAL CHANGES PEOPLE. Hahah. Shit I think I'm too high for my own good. Off to take a shower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;hearts; &amp;spades; &amp;hearts;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114128017412399606?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114128017412399606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114128017412399606' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114128017412399606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114128017412399606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/03/hmm_02.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114106506609774239</id><published>2006-02-28T02:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-29T19:43:40.313+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Who else in the whole damn world knows what the hell a "freefrag" is anyway?! &amp; hearing it from the other side of the court didn't really help - I thought they were calling me a "prefect" so I shouted back, &lt;em&gt;no, I was a PSL!&lt;/em&gt; Those guys are just so full of bull.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp; the guys were so irritating! Andy act so big, thinking he'll ace me all the way. They all just wanna bully the poor-injured-only-girl in the group. FREEFREK MY ASS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so hungry now but I'm staving off my hunger til tomorrow. &amp; I will be as svelte &amp; hot like _____ &amp; Sheryl because they wear those wrap around thingies around their waists, RIGHT SHERYL. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I strained my back during training. I mean, it already &lt;em&gt;was&lt;/em&gt; strained to start off with. Meaning I re-strained the strain now. I hate being so rusty in tennis. It makes me feel like a fucking &lt;em&gt;freefrek&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SHERYL IS A FUCKING VAMPIRE BECAUSE SHE ONLY GOES ONLINE TO TALK FROM 1 - 6 IN THE MORNING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, her display picture of that cute &amp; scary doll is boring me so I'm off to bed now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;hearts; jo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s I am addicted to typing &amp;hearts; because I just learnt how to do it today. Haha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114106506609774239?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114106506609774239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114106506609774239' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114106506609774239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114106506609774239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/02/who-else-in-whole-damn-world-knows.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114103662516613930</id><published>2006-02-27T18:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-27T18:37:06.473+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So CAE is beginning to look more inviting. I've looked through the courses &amp; they all seem very interesting. Albeit the Literature courses are looking really scary. &lt;br /&gt;What with all the essays &amp; anti-plagiarism notion (not that I support it either of course).All the courses follow the American grade system; so a score of 79 is a mere grade C.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They've got French &amp; Spanish courses too. But I'm not keen to choose French as one of the two courses I'll need under Humanities. I'll probably do American Literature I &amp; Introduction to Philosophy (Charlene please say you'll take the same courses!!!) these CAE people are a clever bunch - one of the courses is Introduction Logic. If they had put the word 'to' inbetween it'd be somewhat comical. Hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am very excited over the Social &amp; Behavioral Sciences area. I feel like just taking all the subjects in there. Hahaha. But OK fine, I guess I'll do something along the lines of History of the US I under Historical, Political, &amp; Global Perspective &amp;... &amp; I want to do everything under Social/Behavioral Science. Grrrrrrrr. This is very frustrating man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every single time I want to tell my parents that I want to do Psychology I crumble. My mouth just literally liquefies to the fucking floor. &amp; I'm left leaving the room with them not knowing that I was about to tell them what I want for my future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daddy wants me to do business but I don't think I'll do well in that direction. I don't want to grow up &amp; feel unhappy with the course Daddy chose for me. If anything, I'd rather I grow up &amp; feel unhappy with the course &lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt; chose for myself. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;hearts;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114103662516613930?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114103662516613930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114103662516613930' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114103662516613930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114103662516613930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/02/so-cae-is-beginning-to-look-more.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114095222567672584</id><published>2006-02-26T18:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-26T19:10:26.290+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Aight, my internet has suddenly revived itself. I don't know how &amp; I'm not about to ask questions. Haha. I just this isn't a once in a while thing like the last time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho, I went for the CAE seminar with my Mum &amp; Charlene &amp; it was really good shit. Spoke to the dean, Mr Christopher Hamilton &amp; said hi to him for Ms Wong. Haha. He's really friendly. So I've got the registeration form &amp; I am so excited. But I'm trying not to be too excited because for some bizarre reason, things get messed up if I get too over-confident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I was rambling to Charlene about how bitchy my _____ is &amp; how I really really want to quit but at the same time, I don't because most of the people there are just so nice &amp; fun. I guess I should just stick to eh? Oh &amp; we were listening to the Choirboys &amp; I was trying to reach the high parts that they were singing but my voice just cracks. Funny shit. &lt;em&gt;He's not heavyyy, he's my brrrotherrrrrr&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALRIGHTIES. I'm going Katong for dinner with the kids, Mum &amp; Tita Betty. &amp; I'm feeling so moody right now, I think I'm gonna get my period this week. :\&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114095222567672584?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114095222567672584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114095222567672584' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114095222567672584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114095222567672584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/02/aight-my-internet-has-suddenly-revived.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-114023200922922580</id><published>2006-02-18T11:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-18T11:06:49.266+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm at Charlene's house now &amp; the lazy bum's in bed sleeping. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're meeting Shamayne in Orchard later at 12.30. Charlene's keyboard is very naughty to me. Hahaha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a very boringweek so far. Haven't been out much apart from now &amp; theother day when I came by here to register my 12 choices which was a very retarded thing coz I started panicking coz I thought the server'll close in 10 minutes even though I had a good 3 more hours to go. So in my panic I typed Laura's number instead of mine. Hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, I can't write properly when someone's in the room so blame the sleeping Charlene for that. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, so bye!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-114023200922922580?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/114023200922922580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=114023200922922580' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114023200922922580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/114023200922922580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/02/im-at-charlenes-house-now-lazy-bums-in.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113793323449737330</id><published>2006-01-22T20:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-22T20:33:54.526+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>HELLO. OK, quicky update here. I'm at Lauralala's place now painting the KC Tennis banner. Things're looking spiffy, if I do say so myself. :D Especially all the touch-ups (coz i did them, haha). Laura's on the floor now writing stuff on the banner. &amp; I'm not down with her because my sense of imagination on what to write is non-existent at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday at KC with Charlene &amp; Shamayne was fun fun funn. &amp; Ms Wong was such a real sweetie!!! I love her I love her I love herrr! Zen came to met us then we went to hang at Starbucks. I TOOK THE BUS. Be very proud of Jo please. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I studied Charlene's Economics notes &amp; her Physics notes. You know Jo is bored when she's resorted to actually studying &lt;strong&gt;willingly&lt;/strong&gt; when she doesn't even have to. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Church on Saturday with Amanda &amp; Bridget. Met up with some of the GII people outside church then cabbed home with Bridget. OK, I PROMISE to go for choir practice tomorrow!!! Hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laura says hi. OKKKK. I feel so bad for leaving her on the floor. I'm gonna go paint now. Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113793323449737330?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113793323449737330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113793323449737330' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113793323449737330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113793323449737330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/01/hello.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113726191896429650</id><published>2006-01-15T02:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-15T02:18:40.153+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dinner at Roland's was sooo fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waited with Cheryl, Sam &amp; Edmond for Greg to finish changing the curtains after mass. We were like, 15 minutes late but it was no biggie because the food didn't come in til 8. Jon Chia, Jasmine, Duane, Shannon &amp; another guy were there already. I don't really know his name but I know he's from GII. Clara &amp; Jeremy Chai dropped by during every between-courses from the other side of the restaurant (&amp; to take into consideration the fact that there were about 90 tables in the restaurant *gawks*).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On top of the appetizers we had, Duane, Jon Chia &amp; I ate &lt;strong&gt;orchid petals&lt;/strong&gt;. Duane didn't want to eat it at first because he thought it might not be safe to eat. Haha. I tried the parsely &amp; I must say, I liked it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHA. OK, no. You must be thinking we went over to this seafood restaurant just to taste their side dressing of parsely &amp; orchids BUT NO WE ATE NORMAL FOOD TOO SO THERE! When the chicken came Jon Chia took the chicken head &amp; &lt;em&gt;ate it&lt;/em&gt;. I am not about to tell you how icky that was but it was ohh so funny. Then Jasmine "decorated" the chicken head by placing it on a bed of parsely &amp; putting an orchid beside it with mango strips. Hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the soup(?!) course Brenda &amp; Jon Lim dropped by. They stayed for awhile then left like, 2 courses later. Hehh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH YA. &amp; GREG YEO WAS SUCH A SWEETHEART TO CHERYL! He pulled out a small bouquet of flowers from his bag while the band was playing &lt;em&gt;Quando Quando&lt;/em&gt; (I think) then he was like, singing the song to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;When will you say yes to me? Tell me, quando quando quuaaando...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THERE WERE SO MANY COURSES LA I SWEAR. By the time the chicken came I couldn't eat anymore. &amp; when the mushrooms came I was suffering a majorrr headache albeit I managed to enjoyyy every minute I was with GII. Shidddd to hell &amp; back, I miss them. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GUESSWHATGUESSWHATGUESSWHAT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was walking into the kitchen to get me some pandan cake then when I walked back to the computer room with the cake in my mouth (yes, I use my mouth as a clamp for my food when I get around the house) then I got frustrated because I was thinking of how I miss walking &amp; I TOOK TWO/2/DALAWA/ER/DEUS/DEUX STEPS WITH MY LEFT LEG!!!!!! Yes, I am excited!! OK, but my knee hurt after that BUT WHATEVER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OOH, I'll probably be going MP Starbucks tomorrow. Haven't visited that place in I have no idea how looong (Actually, I was just there last week). But the last time was such a waste of money because I hated the mocha valencia. It was too nutty for me. I MISS MY RASPERRY ICEBLENDED WITH MANGO!!! I hope Tat Wee is working tomorrow. Or Bear. DEAR LORD I PRAY DOMINIC &amp; JASON AREN'T AROUND TO ACT FUCKING SELF-RIGHTEOUS (for Dominic's case) OR TO START TALKING TO THE COFFEE MACHINES &amp; LAUGH TO HIMSELF (for Jason's case).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize I have alot of CAPS LOCK &amp; (brackets) in this entry (BUT IT'S OK COZ IT'S THE NEW "IN" THING KIDDOS).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WANT TO WATCH KILL BILL AGAIN!! I'm gonna force Daddy to buy me Volume 1 &amp; 2 - Japanese version. Huzzah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, but seriously... the food at Roland's was kind of disappointing... LAURA YOU SAID THE SEAFOOD WAS NICE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the best thing I've had tonight was my pandan cake with coffeecoffeecoffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHY DOESN'T DADDY MAKE HIS WEEKDAY COFFEE ANYMOREEEEEE. I was stuck drinking his weekend coffee this morning. Eugh. One of the nuttiest coffees I've tasted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK! VIDEO CONVERSATION WITH SHERYL NOW SO BYE PUNKS, WE'RE BEING EMO &amp; WANT TO CRY OURSELVES TO SLEEP &amp; CUT OURSELVES &amp; WRITE BAD POETRY &amp; WEAR PANTS THAT ARE WAY TOO SMALL &amp; WE LIKE LIP RINGS &amp; SAY WORDS LIKE "RAD" &amp; "HARDCORE". (quote, unquote from Sheryl the emo who is trying to be the emo-ist kid on the block). Hahahahahahahaha. LFMAO now please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, anyhows. Happy Feast day Holy Family (Oh, &amp; I won the lottery!!! Got my Mum a crystal vase.)!!! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ambers, we're burning bridges down.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113726191896429650?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113726191896429650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113726191896429650' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113726191896429650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113726191896429650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/01/dinner-at-rolands-was-sooo-fun-waited.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113716813518243468</id><published>2006-01-14T00:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-14T00:05:45.560+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>TODAY'S KILL BILL MOVIE MARATHON WAS GREEEEEAT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wiggle your big toe. Wiggle your big toe. Wiggle your big toe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's one of the funnnnnniest movies I've ever seen. In a sadistic way of course. But Lucy Lui died!!! That sucked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Censorship is a bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch... ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's friendliness that borders on irritation right now. Just suck it in bitch!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anwaysss,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BRENDAISN'TGOINGFORROLANDTOMORROW. Basket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silly rabbit. Trix are for kids.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113716813518243468?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113716813518243468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113716813518243468' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113716813518243468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113716813518243468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/01/todays-kill-bill-movie-marathon-was.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113708775495505089</id><published>2006-01-13T01:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-13T01:49:03.273+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Huh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today(actually, yesterday) has been as uneventful as the day before. So far, I bet even an ant could entertain me. But hey, ants really &lt;strong&gt;are&lt;/strong&gt; entertaining... if you're really into... ants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, things are cooling down at home &amp; people have been talking to people &amp; everything's on their merry-yellow-brick-road way happiness. &amp; the highlight of the week is gonna happen tomorrow(actually, today)!! &amp; I am verrry sexcited to hang out with the girlies. I CAN'T WAIT TO HUG ZENNNNNNNNNNNN!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a different note, MY PHONE KEEPS BITING ME. It bit Stefie once two days back. It bit me so many times today. Itcanjustgoeatshid&amp;die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm on a chocolate-ramage &amp; I've been eating chocolate since I woke up at 1 today(I mean, yesterday) Due to the lack of sleep I had the day before (I went to sleep at 3), when I woke up at 6 to help my sister get ready for school, I was cranky like a girl with PMS. My sister &amp; I got into a fight over my hair ties. You see, since she totally abbors the use of hair ties at home, she has to use mine for her school. &amp; she just doesn't know how to keep them in one place. It was already the 5th time in a row that she lost my hair tie &amp; we had to scramble around the house for a hair tie. I was stuck tying her hair with a YELLOW tie. &amp; I was irritated that she gets to use the yellow tie. So we were arguing &amp; she started doing the thing kids do so that they don't have to listen to grown-ups talk. The way they sing/yell/scream/shout at the top of their lungs to block the said grown-up out. Well, she was doing this irritating high-pitch voice )IMITATING ME, which by the way, TOTALLY gets on my nerves) so she could block me out &amp; we just kept on arguing. I SWEAR my cranky-ness wasn't the result of playing zootycoon2 the whole night &amp; morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After she came back from school I felt bad for arguing with her so we played the whole afternoon. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, the moral of the story is..................... I love my rad sister &amp; her rad zootycoon2 game. Wahoo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my phone alarm rang at 6 this morning I quickly messaged Charlene my last message to her. Hahaha. I have no idea why. But I woke up 15 minutes later with the phone in my hand &amp; the message in my phone &amp; I was like, oh shitt. I checked &amp; yes, I did message her a very pointless message on Milan Kundera's &lt;em&gt;The Unbearable Lightness Of Being&lt;/em&gt; &amp; &lt;em&gt;Life of Pi&lt;/em&gt;. I KEEP WASTING MESSAGES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, on a more serious note - you know how some friends are worth it because they take the time to talk &amp; to listen &amp; to just keep in touch? &amp; how some of them are just not really there but they SAY they want to &amp; they SAY they'll try to? Yes, I just wanted to make sure you knew. Hahahaha. OKAY. No longer serious, this is a very RANDOM note.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But really; how funny it is to see that I'm wayyy closer to people I hadn't known 4 years ago than to those whom I HAD known for longer than 4 years...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH YEAH! &amp; I had this really indept look at &lt;em&gt;Alice In Wonderland&lt;/em&gt; &amp; how it's actually a reeeally dark story but I am just way too lazy to type it now. But really - after watching Daddy play McGee's &lt;em&gt;Alice In Wonderland&lt;/em&gt; two years back, Wonderland was never "wonderful" to start with (even though I did read it to Jennifer last month).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHA. OK, I wanna get back to zootycooooooooooon2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Don't wanna tango with you, I'd rather tango with him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113708775495505089?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113708775495505089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113708775495505089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113708775495505089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113708775495505089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/01/huh.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113690829648736192</id><published>2006-01-10T23:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-11T00:01:10.030+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Miss Devi passed away on the evening of January the nineth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As sad as it gets, I know she's in a better place with God now. For sure. She was the only teacher (aside from Miss Tan) that truly cared for us, at least, that's what I feel. She not only taught us Literature (even though she couldn't really teach well), but life lessons too. I'll miss her calling us her &lt;em&gt;babies&lt;/em&gt; &amp; &lt;em&gt;sweethearts&lt;/em&gt; &amp; &lt;em&gt;darlings&lt;/em&gt; &amp; the way she'd go, &lt;em&gt;How's my Joanna?&lt;/em&gt; or whoever it is she's talking to. I miss her raspy voice that can be endearing one moment yet scary the next. I just miss her. Couldn't bear to see the cremation so I left with Stefanie &amp; Charlene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize I haven't read a book for 2 weeks. That's just as long as the time I went celebate on books for O's. Didn't quite make the 3 week mark coz I couldn't stand it. Now I'm in the midst of reading &lt;em&gt;A Short History Of Nearly Everything&lt;/em&gt; (I've actually read the book halfway but Daddy bought me the ILLUSTRATED one so I just HAD to start at the beginning again. Kekeke), &lt;em&gt;Sacred Cut&lt;/em&gt; (Laura lent me this book. She claims it's better than Dan Brown. But I read &lt;em&gt;A Season For The Dead&lt;/em&gt; &amp; I wasn't impressed with the first few chapters. I have yet to finish that though so we'll see) &amp; &lt;em&gt;Third Girl&lt;/em&gt; (Laura bought me that book &amp; it's a reeeally good book by the way).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daddy wants me to clear my books on top of my computer &amp;  I am tryyyyying to procrastinate as much as I can 'coz SHID I can't bear to throw any of them away. Except maybe &lt;em&gt;Bridget Jone's Diary&lt;/em&gt; 'coz its English is simmmply putrid. I can't believe Daddy thinks I'd want to read that crap. Haha. No offense to Bridget Jones. (OK, maybe alittle)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's this dinner at Roland's Restaurant with the Choir on Saturday. Been debating on whether to go or not since last night. It's like, 25 bucks per person &amp; Edmond's offered to pay for dinner (again!) &amp; I feel so bad 'coz he keeps paying for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, blah &amp; blah has been going on at home &amp; it is earitating the fug out of me. Its just gotten to a point where I want to get out of the house more &amp; more often now but my leg is being a fucking liability. Let's just take a moment of silence for abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Oh, did I say a moment?! I meant let's take 876213765746823764 hours of silent treatment &amp; tense conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am listening to Enya &amp; she's putting me to sleep. She keeps telling me that her name is in the rain. &amp; as self-centered as that it may seem, it's very soothing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113690829648736192?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113690829648736192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113690829648736192' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113690829648736192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113690829648736192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/01/miss-devi-passed-away-on-evening-of.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113672994485705257</id><published>2006-01-08T21:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T00:26:19.386+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>You wouldn't spend counterfeit bills would you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why you gonna go listen to his pirated cds?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go buy a fake house &amp; pay a fake mortage. Go on &amp; buy some fake sparkles for your fake car with your fake engines &amp; your fake tires &amp; your fake rims. &amp; your fake rolexs, i know people're buying those! I know you got some fake fur jackets in your closet. You got a plastic palm tree in your yard? That's fake! Don't be buying no fake shi-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ed: Why you still wearing your police vest man?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am the law, if I wanna frisk somebody, I'll frisk em. I enjoy frisking people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ed: You mean frisk women... I hope right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I frisk women yeah... some... men. I frisk anybody, they're wearing some expensive stuff - I don't know where they got it. I wanna frisk 'em, I wanna find out. See that guy down there, I can frisk his bag &amp; get em down to his underwear in three minutes man. You don't think I can do it in three minutes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ed: Why do you need him down to his underwear?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give me three minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ed: No man, we chill. Chill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That guy don't look right. He don't look right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still Mrs Josh btw. :DDDDDD&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113672994485705257?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113672994485705257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113672994485705257' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113672994485705257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113672994485705257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/01/you-wouldnt-spend-counterfeit-bills.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113662358086429616</id><published>2006-01-07T16:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-08T00:41:42.876+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>12 days of Christmas - over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That calls for a newlayout colour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TADA! It seems very classy (I think... I hope - that was what I was going for anyway) &amp; may not seem very Jo but I fell in love with the colour so ya. &amp; besides, it's something new so don't complain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wahlawahlawahla; today Laura, Charlene &amp; Shamayne made me happy. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;//edit.&lt;/strong&gt; 00:10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to church today!!! After 298347198273981347130921 weeks. Nahh, just after 5 weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today Chris De Silva performed a song &lt;em&gt;Can You See God&lt;/em&gt;. He wrote the song himself &amp; he performed beautifully. Proud to say that he's 1/3 founding member of Genesis II - a youth choir that I am a member of. His performance really wow-ed me &amp; I really felt captivated by his voice. &amp; there was this moment when I seriously had this out-of-body experience &amp; I kinda dazed out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO, it wasn't the bad kind of dazed out you'd get in class when the teacher is superofucking boring. It's the kind of dazed out that you feel so... I don't know, I can't explain. OK, don't laugh coz I'm being fucking serious here - I feel like God's trying to get me back into my faith. Because seriously speaking, I lost faith about a month &amp; a half ago during O levels. I just didn't feel close to Him anymore, you know? I questioned my faith &amp; I put it under a microscope; I put Him under the microscope. &amp; it just came to a point when I thought - screw this, I'm sorry God I can't ask you to help me if I don't believe. So that's how it went. Halfway through the O's I got lost. &amp; now, for the past 2 weeks He seems to be trying to get me to go back to Him. It's just that the choir seems to be getting a bigger &amp; bigger part of me (again) like the whole deal with &lt;em&gt;Alive!&lt;/em&gt; *&amp; the best part of it is - I don't have to be part of a committee!*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But oh man, I miss the &lt;em&gt;Alive!&lt;/em&gt; days. The sweat, tears &amp; drama of it all. I've made a sort of resolution, OK, no. Not a resolution. Because I can never keep resolutions. It's more of a... committment I guess? OK, so the new committment is *wah shit so drama* to be more involved in my choir. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(OK, the part about being the best part is not being part of a committe? I lied, because I'm part of the committee for Lenten Vigil. Heehawheehaw.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The prospect is SEXCITING. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WAH BANG SHOOT ME LA.&lt;br /&gt;IfeelsospiritualnowbutIdontcarecozIfeelliketakingasteptowardsGod&amp;youcantstopme. CLAPBANGSHOOTYOU.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, Bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113662358086429616?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113662358086429616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113662358086429616' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113662358086429616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113662358086429616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/01/12-days-of-christmas-over.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113645500202518185</id><published>2006-01-05T17:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-05T18:28:44.913+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>*imitates Natashia*Woohoo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Varsha smsed all the way from kangaroo land! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In no particular order, list down 3 people you talk to online, 4 people you see at school, 2 teachers , 3 people you love going out with and 3 people in your sms inbox.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1; Darren Spruyt&lt;br /&gt;2; Miss Tan&lt;br /&gt;3; Irene&lt;br /&gt;4; NATASHIA&lt;br /&gt;5; Charlene&lt;br /&gt;6; Kristian&lt;br /&gt;7; Nicole Mathiaz&lt;br /&gt;8; Sarah&lt;br /&gt;9; Laura&lt;br /&gt;10; Sheryl&lt;br /&gt;11; Agnes&lt;br /&gt;12; Varsha&lt;br /&gt;13; Stefanie&lt;br /&gt;14; Mr Lee&lt;br /&gt;15; Darren Leong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what do you think of number 4?&lt;br /&gt;She's a troublesome brat. Haha. No, I love Natashia but not as much as she &lt;strong&gt;adores&lt;/strong&gt; me. I think I wouldn't be the same person I am without her (probably saner though).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how do you feel if number 4 slapped your face?&lt;br /&gt;IT'S NOT AN UNCOMMON EVENT. (I on the other hand, have NEVER slapped her. Haha).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on the scale of 1 to 10, how good looking do u think number 5 is?&lt;br /&gt;HUH Charlene?! Koala's are generally really cute - this one's an exception. I'll give her................. a 7. HAHA. Aw c'mon, all my friend's are such beautiful people, they're all 10s. :D (What a fucking diplomatic answer).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How nice is number 6?&lt;br /&gt;Retard. Eediot. Aydeeot. Eydeeot. Pussy. He's a nice &amp; funny jackass. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, if number 8 met an accident, what would you do?&lt;br /&gt;I'd cry my eyes out for her, I'll build a memorial for her... memory. But seriously, she's really important to me &amp; I won't know what to do with myself without her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would I ever fall for 11?&lt;br /&gt;HAHA. Yeah baby - she's already my sweetheart &amp; I'm her darlingggg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if number 1 got a boyfriend?&lt;br /&gt;................ DARREN YOU GAY. *imitates Spruyt* Like faeces like that ahh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What sport would i play with number 12?&lt;br /&gt;i'll play lasso with her because my sister says she'll be a cowgirl in the future. Hee haw, ride em up cowgirl!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How much do you like number 12?&lt;br /&gt;Enough to wanna hide in her luggage so that we don't have to go seperate ways. Enough to wanna weigh 3kgs just so I can pass of as the contents in her luggage!! VARHSA BABY I MISS YOOOOU!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would 13 and 7 make a good couple?&lt;br /&gt;Huh. Suuuuuuure not. Hahaha. They're two wonderful girls seperately but as a couple? Nahhh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I hate number 9?&lt;br /&gt;ARE YOU KIDDING. I love her I love her I loveher I loverrrrrrr. Iloverrrrrrrrrrrrr. Hahaha. She's my Lauralala, my sweetiepie my one &amp; only.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would 14 one day kill me?&lt;br /&gt;HAHA. With his inability to play tennis - yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who do I like more ? 3 or 10?&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, invalid question. Never ask that dimwitted question again! You hear me?! That's like asking me &lt;em&gt;Chocolate VS Coffee&lt;/em&gt;... *grumbles*&lt;small&gt;&lt;small&gt;stupid Charlene... I'm still not answering that question.&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113645500202518185?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113645500202518185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113645500202518185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113645500202518185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113645500202518185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/01/imitates-natashiawoohoo-varsha-smsed.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113635183041571682</id><published>2006-01-04T12:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-04T13:17:10.426+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Howdy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This post is dedicated to a very special friend, VARSHA! She's leaving today so I thought I'd do something nice (for a change). Hehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I only got to get closer to Varsha late last year (I'm immensely slow so take last year as 2004). She's been such a sweeeeeetie pie. I remember her always tripping me everytime we walk together. &amp; when I try to trip her I usually fail miserably. I think the time when we went for the PSL workshop together was when we really did become closer friends (as opposed to just being aquantances who share the same crazy friend - Nart) Shit, I really regret not getting to know her better earlier because she's been such an awesome friend. We talked about alot of random stuff during the workshop, the highlight being Varsha's black cat boyfriend, Sebastion was it? Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll miss the times when I'd curse &amp; she go &lt;em&gt;Say sorry &amp; promise not to say that again.&lt;/em&gt; I'd somtimes say sorry but I'd always curse again &amp; again til she finally gave up. So for her sake; Varsha, I'm sorry for all the times I've cursed in front of you &amp; I'll promise I won't (curse in front of you) ever ever again. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't really remember but there was a time when we were near Kallang &amp; we were trying to get home. I don't know how we ended up at Kallang. The thing I remembered during that day was us walking across the overhead bridge &amp; commenting how breeeeezy it was. &amp; she told me her church was nearby. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll always remember Varsha as someone very dedicated to God &amp; being spiritual. I remember she brought her Bible to school acouple of times &amp; when I opened it, I saw these highlights on many of the pages. Frankly, I started reading the Bible after I read her's. She's been a great inspiration to me spiritually, &amp; I really mean that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember her 'Kyle' impersonations. The one in "The Amanda Show", Varsha'd be like "Like one time, I was walking like, walking on the pavement &amp; like, I saw this like, pebble &amp; I was like, woahhh..." I can't remember what exactly she'd say but it'll always leave me in stiches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's such a breath of fresh air, that lovely girl. &amp; I'll really miss her &amp; her cat fetishes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Varsha baby, stay the same you because I'd like it no other way than to see you come visit us back here with that same smile &amp; that same laugh &amp; that same beautiful, wonderful person you are. I know you have to leave to further your studies &amp; you'll fit in just great there in Melbourne. You'll make many beautiful friends but I know you'll always remember us here. I wish you the best in whatever you do &amp; may God be with you always to light your path. We'll all miss you sweetheart. &amp; I really do mean it when I say that the only regret I have when it comes to you is that I should've gotten to know you earlier. We would've been really awesome friends aye? I love you &amp; will always keep you in my heart &amp; prayers. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113635183041571682?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113635183041571682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113635183041571682' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113635183041571682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113635183041571682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/01/howdy.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113621301142229988</id><published>2006-01-02T22:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-02T22:53:24.966+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>LOST 2 LOST 2 LOST 2: &lt;em&gt;haha i smell jealousy&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you've been the... not coming in.: &lt;em&gt;you must be smelling someone else's conversation window then.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bet everybody can smell my jealousy two thousand miles away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;tell ur friend that the coolest guy around will date her.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*throws my crutches*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113621301142229988?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113621301142229988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113621301142229988' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113621301142229988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113621301142229988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/01/lost-2-lost-2-lost-2-haha-i-smell.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113607582369760366</id><published>2006-01-01T08:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T09:43:01.843+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>WOOHOO! Just came back from Edmund's house. Finally decided to go for the party. I called at like, 1? Then they came around 0130. Haven't slept one bit but that's OK. I'll try to hold on til tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first party for 2006 was a blast! Edmund picked me up with Brenda, Greg &amp; Jon. When we came back saw Jasmine &amp;amp; Jon Chia. But they left soon after. Anyway, watched abit of Whitecastle(?) with Matthias, Darren Spruyt, Clara, Jeremy Chai, Jaryl, Sam, Chris Raj, Nicholas &amp; some other people. I don't know the name, but it's with the Indian &amp;amp; Chinese dude. Movie finished then we watched A Series Of Unfortunate Events. The girl in the movie's really puuurty. Then Chris started running on the treadmill for God knows what reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asked Greg for a drink. I think he was too concerned over me coz he only put abit of vodka in it. Grrr. Could hardly taste the vodka please. I bet he thought I'd trip down the stairs if I took too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After watching, we moved downstairs to the guestroom where Joanna Ortega, Priscilla, Zach, Kenneth, Darren Leong, Daphne, &amp; the rest were playing pictionare. Wah so funnnnnnnnnnnny X9999999999999999, I swear. Nicholas, Greg &amp;amp; Spruyt went up to Edmund's room to drink somemore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 2 hours later Nicholas comes in with Darren Leong trying to keep him out of the room. Jeremy Chai was acting out a phrase when Nicholas went, &lt;em&gt;Eh! Jerrremmy CHAI! Like Chai Cheeeee.&lt;/em&gt; *Laughs like he just made the joke of the century*&lt;br /&gt;Then he went back up to drink. He came down 15 minutes later with Duane (Darren Leong was asleep on one of the couches in the guestroom we were in). Duane was supposed to be 'in charge' of him but he gave up. So they came in &amp; Duane started playing pictionare with us. Nick was making &lt;strong&gt;so much noise!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We told him to sit down then he went &lt;em&gt;HAHA OKKK, I'll siit downn right here, in the middle of the roooom&lt;/em&gt; and he plopped on the floor in the middle of the room. We all burst out laughing &amp;amp; told him to go lie down somewhere &lt;em&gt;OK, yooou ask me to lie down&lt;/em&gt; *lies down* &lt;em&gt;ooooooh, that thing up there is a star!&lt;/em&gt; OMG I swear he reminded me of the time I got drunk &amp; complained to Audrey &lt;em&gt;Why is it so bright here? It's not even morning yet!&lt;/em&gt; Wah shit just laugh in stiches please.  He tripped over the rug &amp; went something like &lt;em&gt;That rug is disgusting!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Spruyt came in the room with Greg &amp;amp; GREG RAN TO JEREMY CHAI ON THE COUCH &amp; JUST LANDED ON HIM. I think he meant to give him a hug but ended up falling on top of him instead. WAHAHA. Then Spruyt &amp;amp; Nick started doing their nonsense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Nick stands up) Nick: &lt;em&gt;Hey, guess who I am!&lt;/em&gt; *starts flapping his arms like a chicken and walks about*&lt;br /&gt;Spruyt (shouts): &lt;em&gt;You idiot ah! Of course everybody knows CHICKEN LITTLE!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nick (shouts louder): &lt;em&gt;NOLA. It's Jaryl swimming in the pool!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatthefuck fucking lame. We had no idea what the hell they were jabbering on about. Then Greg came up to them &amp; starts laughing his head off, &lt;em&gt;I know how to see if your drunnk!&lt;/em&gt; *starts flipping dumb bells around (OK, this one I got scared coz I was worried he'd accidentally really throw it &amp;amp; hit somebody)* &lt;em&gt;Nah!&lt;/em&gt; He passes Spruyt a dumb bell &amp; they flex with the dumb bells. They kept laughing &amp;amp; laughing while they did that. I don't know how the fuck to tell if Spruyt was drunk just by watching him use the dumb bells but it was damn funny. They were racing to see who could flex faster than the other. They were in the middle of the room so we couldn't really concentrate on Duane who was charade-ing for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK then this happened &amp; that happened &amp;amp; this happened &amp; that happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there were 4. HAHA. OMG Jaryl is damn funny. Only Chris Raj, Zach, Jaryl &amp;amp; I were in the guestroom. Everyone else was looking after the three drunken muskateers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We asked Jaryl where everyone was.&lt;br /&gt;Jaryl: &lt;em&gt;In the movie room. Don't go there!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ask him why.&lt;br /&gt;Jaryl: &lt;em&gt;Coz it's a very happening place!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ask him how the hell is it a 'happening' place.&lt;br /&gt;Jaryl: &lt;em&gt;Coz everybody's getting drunk there! That's why it's hapenning.&lt;/em&gt; (Oh God I'm LAUGHING just typing this down)&lt;br /&gt;Jaryl: &lt;em&gt;By tomorrow everybody will be mad!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Zach, Chris &amp; I burst out laughing*&lt;br /&gt;Jarly shouts: &lt;em&gt;I'm serious! I'm serious!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chris: &lt;em&gt;Ya la, you're serious.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys hold their laughter in but I couldn't hold it so I kept laughing &amp;amp; laughing.&lt;br /&gt;Chris: &lt;em&gt;Except Joanna.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wah Jaryl is so blurfunny. But OK, we were mean. He's got some ADHD thing. Greg said something like, he's got attention deficiency &amp; some hyperactive thingymabob.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told Duane he wanted to commit suicide last night... He kept hitting his shin with his hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, everybody finally settled in around 0615 to sleep but I couldn't really sleep. Chris, Clara &amp;amp; I shared a couch, Zach slept on another while Sam slept on the floor. Didn't sleep coz I knew if I did I'd totally pass out. Daphne &amp; Noel came in the room to do a head count... Jeremy Chai came in the room to look for his cousin, Clara... Spruyt came in the room &amp;amp; waved at me... That boy didn't sleep the whole time! So he couldn't get sober.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG so funny when everyone was getting ready to go. We were all at the sitting area in the lobby &amp; the younger ones were just sitting around. Nick, Spruyt, Jon, Brenda, Clara, Sam, Jaryl, Jeremy, Chris, Zach. Nick barely had any recollection of what he did. Chris &amp;amp; I teased him about the stars thing &lt;em&gt;So Nick, seen any stars lately?&lt;/em&gt; And he was like &lt;em&gt;huhh?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he was sober already (with a headache). Spruyt was still slighty drunk, talking so loud! &lt;em&gt;Like faeces ah! Like faeces ah!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally got to have a normal, civil conversation with someone - Noel &amp; I were talking about my dislocated knee. Apparently he dislocated it before too. &lt;em&gt;Now&lt;/em&gt; I know why he was using those crutches afew months back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, so I got a ride in his car with Nick, Spruyt &amp;amp; Duane. Wah Spruyt was so random in the car. He starts humming this tune then sings in a slurred manner then he goes &lt;em&gt;Nick, you're part now! The Soprano part!&lt;/em&gt; which was funny coz Sops are the melody (higher voices) &amp; he does base (the lower voices). Or &lt;em&gt;Jo, your turn to sing!&lt;/em&gt; then he went &lt;em&gt;If you ever wonder if someone can think straight when he's drunk, just think of me. I can.&lt;/em&gt; But seriously, he was pretty good at charades last night. Even though he was drunk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He breathed his vodka breath at Darren &amp;amp; forced him off the couch &amp;amp; out of the room. HAHA. Damn funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wah I miss GII (the younger ones) even more now. I think I'll try to go for choir again next week. Bonding time baby!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113607582369760366?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113607582369760366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113607582369760366' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113607582369760366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113607582369760366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2006/01/woohoo-just-came-back-from-edmunds.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113603128160570885</id><published>2005-12-31T20:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-31T20:14:41.650+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>2005 is coming to a close but I am ohsoverry reluctant to let go of 2005. &amp; it's not like 2005 was such a good year either. It just feels like I'm not ready for 2006 &amp; everything is happening too fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've made &amp; lost friends, suffered the downers &amp; celebrated the uppers along the way to get to where I am. In retrospect, 2005 was nothing special really... no ground-breaking events had happened to change my perspective on anything/one. I read my primary school diary awhile back &amp; I remember being told that we'd be leaving in 2003. 6 years later, I'm still here. But now it seems like my Dad really means to go back to the States in May, I really don't know &amp; that's his decision to make.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard to celebrate the arrival of 2006 in crutches but my family will find a way to get me to smile at least. I realize I haven't done much reflection on my last year in Singapore &amp; no, I'm not about to start now. It seems much too tiring. Err, I might be sounding very fuckcare at the moment. That's only coz I just woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I decided not to go for mass or Edmund's party tonight. I feel very bad coz Stefi wanted to go for mass &amp; crash the GII party when I go there (like I'd let her come with me *Haha* Just kidding Stef, you know I would). Fell asleep watching NBA then flipped the channel to watch tennis but fell asleep again. Wah feel so lethargiccc. My cousin from the Phillipines sent me a message through Friendster &amp; I miss her. I miss everyone in Phillipines (minus him).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I've got a very free schedule for the first 4/5 months here in Singapore so Daddy's asked me to take up classes or any courses available. Kuya Benjamin is coming over to visit us in April. He'll probably be visiting our relatives in Phillipines as well. &amp; this is my shot at getting comfortable with him around coz he'll be living with us in New Jersey. It's not that I don't like him at all. It's nothing personal really. It's hard bonding with a step-brother who visits every 8 years. We were OK when I lived in New York, I remember loving him like a real brother but when we started moving around, contact broke &amp; I grew up without him which sucks. &amp; it's just awkward coz I feel really stupid around him (he's studying political science), I trip over myself just talking to him. The heavy German accent doesn't help the communication process either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh look who just came online. He reminds me that gentlemen still walk on Earth. Gentlemen who can be a real jerk at breaking hearts. Wah shit I'm so cranky. I should go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113603128160570885?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113603128160570885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113603128160570885' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113603128160570885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113603128160570885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/12/2005-is-coming-to-close-but-i-am.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113596381544329839</id><published>2005-12-31T00:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-31T11:16:18.753+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I just came back from Edmund's place. Wah shit that place is sooo big. Hard to believe but it's twice the size of Laura's house. &amp; it's undergoing renovation now so the scaffolding makes the outside look bigger than it is. It's got a big swimming pool in the front yard. He's got two great big german sherpherd dogs that I was tempted to touch. But after he told me nobody's dared touch them except his family &amp; with their fierce barking, I chickened out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Greg, Darren Spruyt, Brenda &amp; Edmund were playing tennis at my place from 6-8 (while Samantha &amp; I watched) then we decided to go over &amp; have dinner at Edmund's house. Saw Roy at the treadmill in the gym. Didn't recognize him with his long-ish hair. I teased him about his hairband. Wah, he should have his girlfriend's mother give him a haircut or something since his girlfriend's the daughter of Jean Yip. I bet he'll get it for free anyway! Haha. I like his hairband though. Wahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt like such a hindrance in Edmund's car. Darren, Brenda, Sam &amp; I squeezed in the backseat while Greg sat in front. We dropped Greg at a rental to rent a movie &amp; only after we were parked at the Singapore Swimming Club to get the food, when Edmund asked Darren to call Greg did we realize he didn't have his phone or wallet. Before we picked up Greg, we dropped Brenda off outside Edmund's house. Just in time since Jonathon had just arrived. So we left those two lovebirds alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, fast-forward to dinner at Edmund's &lt;STRONG&gt;MAJESTIC&lt;/STRONG&gt; dining room with a flat-screen TV complete with DVD, VCR &amp; CABLE. Edmund went to take a shower &amp; Greg went to a toilet while the rest of us ate at the dining table. Greg flips a switch at Edmund's brother's room and WHAM, the lights go out. Funny shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently Edmund was bathing halfway &amp; due to his utter fear of the dark, he grabbed a towel &amp; ran out of the bathroom. He had to get a candle from his Dad to continue bathing. When he came in the dining table, Spuryt was reminded of an alter-boy. While we were waiting for his Dad to fix the lights, he told us abit of a ghost story but didn't continue coz we felt bad for Brenda who was freaking out. OK, we were freaking her out with me keeping hold of the lamp &amp; refusing to turn it on, with Greg &amp; Spruyt urging Edmund to continue. &amp; Sam telling me to reach under the table for her leg with my crutches. Wah, ghost fest. Hoho. But Jon was there for Brenda to hold so it wasn't so bad. HAHA. (soursop juice). There was a total of 6 blackouts during our course of dinner until the light finally came on &amp; managed to stay on for more than 5 seconds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Greg, Edmund &amp; Spruyt started talking about NS &amp; BMT &amp; all those army stuff so Jon, Brenda, Sam &amp; I got bored. But after Sam came up with a verrrry bright idea of 'talking somewhere with more ventilation' aka the movie room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WAH Edmund's got that staircase straight out from Beauty &amp; The Beast, I swear. &amp; it curves! What kind of person would have a staircase in the middle of the entrance that &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;curves&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. I felt so unglam walking up the staircase with my crutches. We kept joking that we could steal the gigantic crystals from his chandelier &amp; he wouldn't even notice coz there were too many to count. Wah, &amp; the marble floor! &amp; he's got a bar! &amp; two maids! &amp; he told me his Dad's got a penthouse unit on the 20th floor in Ocean Park! In the same block as me! 20-0... LIKE I'D TELL YOU WHERE. Hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we watched &lt;em&gt;The Longest Yard&lt;/em&gt; which was shitass funny. It's got Adam Sandler in it, what'd you expect?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm sorry, I brokeded your toy.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caretaker(Chris Rock):&lt;em&gt;Let's see what my maniacal ass got.&lt;/em&gt; *computer shows half a star*&lt;EM&gt; Man I gotta get my stars up.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deac(Adam Sandler):&lt;em&gt;Why don't we do some maniacal pillow fight, that'll get it up.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deac: *to a guy in the shower whose nude* &lt;em&gt;I'll see you &amp; your pet iguana later in the field.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheeseburger(some guy, I think the guy who plays the black dude who likes one of the White Chicks): &lt;em&gt;It ain't easy being cheezy!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Same guy* &lt;em&gt;Gimme that burger! You're acting like a real mc Asshole!! // You gotta know how to protect your mcnuggets!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wah so lameassschnickelfritz funny can just die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp; did I mention Edmund has a treadmill, 2 weight machines &amp; a step-up machine in his movie room? With a shower &amp; toilet in a room INSIDE the movie room. &amp; he's got 2 air cons in the room itself? &amp; that his brother has a car, his sister has a car, his dad has a car, his mum has a car, HE has a car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He paid for our dinner &amp; our drinks &amp; the rental of the movie. He drove Sam, Jon, Brenda &amp; I back home yet felt sorry that he didn't have space in his car after he found out Greg &amp; Spruyt weren't going to Darren Leong's house anymore. Bless his dear soul. He can be so rich yet has such a good, kind heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spruyt &amp; Greg were super lame/funny/horny from the get-go in the courts to the car ride to the dinner table to the movie room. But some of the jokes were damn mean. It was good that everybody were comfortable with ourselves, &amp; weren't offended by the fat/skinny/etc jokes that kinda thing. Aiya, I don't know how to explain it. Haha. But everything was ohsofun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wah I miss GII so much. I miss hanging out with them. &amp; I wanna go to Edmund's New Year party &lt;strike&gt;tomorrow&lt;/strike&gt; today after mass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I heard the older people in GII have planned a separate party for themselves. It's a bugger that they don't think they should bother themselves with the younger ones. But I'm glad that some of the older ones don't approve of it. Like Spruyt said, we'll bring more boooooze than them! Haha.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really can't think of the other features in Edmund's house coz it is just so mind-boggling. Wah shit so tired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113596381544329839?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113596381544329839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113596381544329839' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113596381544329839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113596381544329839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/12/i-just-came-back-from-edmunds-place.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113582758704406562</id><published>2005-12-29T11:33:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-29T11:39:47.073+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My flea's coming back from her Shenzen &lt;strike&gt;university&lt;/strike&gt; dorm tonight. WAH so exciting. Kekeke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everybody's coming back from their holidays &amp; I'm still stuck here in Singapore with my broken leg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yesterday's steamboat was such an ughshityuck affair. It isn't such a big surprise that I'm not a big 'Dominic fan' (albeit Audrey &amp;amp; the rest were during the O levels), so I felt so weird when we went in the house. &amp; Dominic was so anti-social. At least Jason would talk &amp;amp; offer us stuff. Apparently Dominic is above treating guests with even a slight lukewarm cordiality. He's such an asshole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason's family was nice. But we felt awkward so it was hard to warm up to our surroundings - something we didn't really want to do. Haha. The only real highlight of the evening was when we had good ol' hawker-center-food. We decided to live it up in style &amp; eat fried oysters &amp;amp; hokkien mee(?). Jeez, 10 years in Singapore &amp; you'd think I'd be able to identify what I'm putting in my mouth here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; the way Dom speaks on the phone. You'd think he doesn't know us. &lt;em&gt;Yes? How may I hepch you?&lt;/em&gt; His English alone is as horrible as nails against a blackboard (I like the nails-against-a-blackboard sound... so nevermind, it's as bad as... well, let's just put it this way - it's hard to think of anything worse than it)... OK, let's just put his English aside coz I guess it's not much of a fault if you think about the fact that it may be a habit of his (or whatever). But it's the way he spoke on the phone. I mean, if your friends were lost you wouldn't go &lt;em&gt;Yes, how may I help you?&lt;/em&gt; So diplomatic. So stonecold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wah, he's put me in a bad mood since last night. OK, bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113582758704406562?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113582758704406562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113582758704406562' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113582758704406562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113582758704406562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/12/my-fleas-coming-back-from-her-shenzen.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113576105370873653</id><published>2005-12-28T17:04:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-28T17:10:53.716+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Can i have it like that says:&lt;br /&gt;then suddenly from no where&lt;br /&gt;mrs josh. says:&lt;br /&gt;hurry&lt;br /&gt;mrs josh. says:&lt;br /&gt;wah so exxxciting&lt;br /&gt;Can i have it like that says:&lt;br /&gt;he popped out and wished jason happy birthday(yes, his birthday is on christmas)&lt;br /&gt;mrs josh. says:&lt;br /&gt;hahahaha.&lt;br /&gt;Can i have it like that says:&lt;br /&gt;then i turned to my right and saw him&lt;br /&gt;Can i have it like that says:&lt;br /&gt;(but he isnt jesus)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Irene is "Can i have it like that"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHA. I don't feel like going for the steamboat nomore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113576105370873653?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113576105370873653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113576105370873653' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113576105370873653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113576105370873653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/12/can-i-have-it-like-that-says-then.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113573652176912186</id><published>2005-12-28T10:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-28T10:22:01.810+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>OK, I got too lazy to type the &lt;em&gt;I miss&lt;/em&gt; thing. Maybe some other time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what today is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's the day of the STARBUCKS STEAMBOAT. I don't even know whether my mum allowed but I told Audrey I was going. I'm not too excited over the issue that it's taking place at Jason's place. 'Coz not to sound rude or anything but, Jason? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hahahahahah. WAH SO HOT. Josh, I mean. Not Jason. HAHA. OMG, the sky will fall down if I meant it that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I spent 2 hours on MSN with Charlene going &lt;em&gt;wah so hot&lt;/em&gt; over Josh coz WAHLAWAHLAWAHLAWAHLA HE'S SO HOT. &lt;em&gt;He be burnin' not concernin' what nobody wanna say.&lt;/em&gt; Kekeke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, &amp; Irene likes... boys. :O woooooooow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was ACS Chinablack party. Imagine all the hot hot boys in one place... clubbing... dancing... drinking... all in Chinablack. NOT FAIR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a frying pan for Christmas. Beat that you farts. :D&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;strong&gt;i put a croissant between my crotch..and i'll call it &lt;em&gt;crotch-on&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;crotch-on&lt;/em&gt; it..if u want it!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113573652176912186?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113573652176912186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113573652176912186' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113573652176912186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113573652176912186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/12/ok-i-got-too-lazy-to-type-i-miss-thing.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113544891115909249</id><published>2005-12-25T02:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-25T02:28:31.173+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&amp; even at the most innocent well-meaning actions he has ever done towards me, he's still able to irritate me senseless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lo &amp; behold, it's Jay being a bloody ray of sunshine at 0230 in the morning.&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;Merry Christmas wankers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113544891115909249?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113544891115909249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113544891115909249' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113544891115909249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113544891115909249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/12/even-at-most-innocent-well-meaning.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113533575135444041</id><published>2005-12-23T18:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-23T19:02:31.366+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I was channel-surfing this morning and I got hooked on Star Sports, NBA. I was watching Chicago Bulls against Cleveland Cavaliers, 108-98 I think. OMG, I am so disappointed in the Bulls. I haven't watched them play in 2 years so they start slacking. Tsk tsk. They're defence was so lacking in the 4th quarter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw abit of LA Lakers against Dallas Mavericks. Koby Bryant was BURNING. 62 points, wowza. I bet he literally led them to win Mavericks 112-90.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spurs lost to Bucks, 107-109. I expected the Spurs to win. Can't wait for Detroit-Cleveland game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahah, I'm back to being a semi-basketball fanatic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;GO MIAMI HEAT!&lt;/strong&gt; :DDDDDDDDD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113533575135444041?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113533575135444041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113533575135444041' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113533575135444041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113533575135444041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/12/i-was-channel-surfing-this-morning-and.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113526740982785536</id><published>2005-12-22T00:04:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-23T00:12:29.476+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I got my cast out this morning. The doctor used this razor/saw thing to slice it off. &amp; he accidentally cut too deep, so now there's a deep gash on my shin...&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;HAHA. Nahhhhhh, he didn't. But he DID cut it too much, so that the metal would scrape against my skin. But before he did anything with the saw, he showed me that the metal cut through the cast through vibration &amp; not the actual fast-spinning thingy I'd had thought it was. He pressed it acoupla times against his palm until he was sure I got it. I wanted to laugh at him coz he could've just told me and it would've taken no less than 10 seconds. Instead, he chose to play pantomime with me for a minute. All in all, it was actually ticklish, coz the cast vibrated so much and it was all I could do not to laugh out loud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp; when the doctor took the cast out I got the shock of my life; my left leg is officially anorexic e'erybody! It is so thin, I feel like feeding it. It's just so bizarre to see my left leg beside my right leg &amp; realize that it's a good 3 inch thinner than my right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My knee is still impossibly swollen but I'm sure it'll go down over the span of the 4 weeks I'm granted to spend some quality time with the bandage wrapped around it. &amp; the whole length of my leg feels like soft, fluffy marshmallows. It's devoid of any muscles, whatsoever and all that's left is fat. I'll go back to the doctor's in 4 weeks to get the verdict on whether I need physical therapy or whether I'm well enough to train and maybe blow my knee acouple more times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was watching ESPN this morning &amp; they were showing some snowboarding show &amp; how this girl blew her knees like, 3 times but she's still competing and all. And she said if she doesn't stretch her knees for 10 minutes, they lock up or some shidazzle like that. Then it made me remember the first visit to the hospital 4 weeks ago, how the doctor warned me against this dislocation maybe being some chronic thing; like, it might happen more than once &amp; it'd be more serious if it does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, I don't know why I brought that up but I'm scared shitless over that. Hehh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG, I can't get over the fact that my right thigh is twice the size of my left thigh. &amp; don't quote me on this one coz everytime I stare at my leg it seems to be shrinking more and more. May be a figment of my hyperactive imagination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp; I am happy to say that I've managed to slowly bend my knee in an approxamtely 75 degree position. A great achievement indeed. But after awhile it starts to hurt so I have to straighten it out which causes pain as well coz my leg isn't used to being... used. Hahaha. OK, lame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp; as a treat, Daddy has booked 2-3 days with me next week... &lt;strong&gt;to help him clean the pond&lt;/strong&gt;. I haven't been this excited since... never! And to top it all off, I will be expected to be awake on Sunday, rearing to go with the family for grocery-shopping. How embarrassing. To lag behind them everytime we walk, to have to ask them to stop everytime I need to take a breather. And I'm not such a big fan of my Dad's ability to walk in lightening-speed. I'm sure my attempt at acting like it's normal to walk around with crutches in public will get the attention needed. Alright already, I'll pick my poison.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113526740982785536?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113526740982785536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113526740982785536' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113526740982785536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113526740982785536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/12/i-got-my-cast-out-this-morning.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113509760007092874</id><published>2005-12-21T00:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-21T01:00:10.050+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today was a really good day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 points;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 - Cast comes off in less than 2 days time!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 - Agnes is back from Indonesia, albeit she's leaving for Japan tomorrow night. But the catching-up session with her this evening at my place was super. I missed that bitch. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 - Sarah called just now at approximately 23:52 &amp; we talked til her Mum came in her room to get her off the phone for the third time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 - I've fallen in love with this song in my blog. Haha, this part's optional. But it's still something that's made this day a really gooooood day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sarah &amp; I were mad mad mad talking, trying to get-to-date with what's been going on since the last we met. &amp; although she was the one who did most of the talking, it was really great to hear her after so long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's dawned upon me that I had not talked to anyone outside the family circle for 2 weeks and running... which is definitely not entirely bad. I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a fairly different note, I don't mind the fact that everyone seems to be crazy in love except me at the moment. It's a really liberating feeling to know that I am in no danger of having my heart feel like it's being ripped apart by a guy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp; my alone times when my Mum takes the kids out in the afternoon (which constitutes to everyday), made me realize something; that one tends to make up an image of someone such that &lt;strong&gt;that&lt;/strong&gt; someone becomes different from what he actually is. Our mind tends to manipulate the said person's character/image/behaviour to what we want that person to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe that's why the saying, &lt;em&gt;Distance makes the heart grow fonder&lt;/em&gt; is true to a certain respect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nevermind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always did suck with words anyway. Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again, I have changed nail colours. I've changed it from a champagne colour to a soft pastel purple colour with glitters. Haha. Yeah... call it boredom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113509760007092874?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113509760007092874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113509760007092874' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113509760007092874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113509760007092874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/12/today-was-really-good-day.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113497192734090961</id><published>2005-12-19T13:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-19T13:58:47.370+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I feel so cheenafied now. Hahahahaoiuaiuadguhakrehad. Eugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm home alone again coz the family's gone to watch Chicken Little. Daddio's just left to pick up my Mum and the kids. *Sarcasm* Alright! Another day with me and my cast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have decided to treat my cast as a whole entirely other entity due to its capability of getting in people's way (especially in my way). I am just so irritated at the damn thing right now I could just gnaw it off my leg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of the damn cast, I couldn't massage my left foot when it started cramping up. Can you imagine the torture I had to go through last night?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I've finally gotten bored with Jane Austin. I couldn't read anymore of that 18th Century English lest my eyes bleed. It's my day to hog the computer but I'm feeling very lethargic and the computer's being boring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not helping that my room's filled with tennis pictures and my rackets are just lying around. It also doesn't help that the tennis courts are JUST downstairs and I can hear people play tennis right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not feeling the Christmas joy at the moment...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113497192734090961?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113497192734090961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113497192734090961' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113497192734090961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113497192734090961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/12/i-feel-so-cheenafied-now.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113490338124896245</id><published>2005-12-18T18:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-18T19:07:24.363+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;Daddy's back from New York. He thinks the doctor'll just pull the leg cast from my leg like a glove. It might be the case if the cast wasn't made of plaster-of-paris...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Anyway, Jennifer and Jason's driving me nuts. I just reeeeally need to get away from the house or I'ma die of their constant bickering, yelling, screaming, fighting, crying and television-and-computer-hogging.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;E'ryone knows I just &lt;strong&gt;adore&lt;/strong&gt; those two goons but right now, &lt;strong&gt;I just can't stand them&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I can't stand the stupid Hamtaro and Pokemon movies my sister has on in the living room 20 hours a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't stand the incessant gun-shooting and grenade-bombing sounds in my room while my brother plays his games.&lt;br /&gt;He goes into this zombie-state, I can't even talk to him without repeating myself again and again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And again...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;The only reason I have the computer now is coz I negotiated with him this morning. He gets the computer the whole day and night... if I can use it from 6-7.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can bet your ass he'll be coming in at 6:59 to make sure I've logged out.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;I can't even get any privacy in the computer room coz my Dad's taken over the place now. My damn haven for the past 3 weeks... taken by my Dad. He makes me feel like it's a sin to laugh at the things on TV. And he won't let me use the other computers in the computer room. Whatabum.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;"What are you, a millionaire?!?? Don't you want free cheese?"&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113490338124896245?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113490338124896245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113490338124896245' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113490338124896245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113490338124896245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/12/daddys-back-from-new-york.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113483531345263549</id><published>2005-12-17T00:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-18T00:01:53.470+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;He's like butta, baby. He's like butta.&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;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;AIYA!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113483531345263549?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113483531345263549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113483531345263549' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113483531345263549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113483531345263549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/12/hes-like-butta-baby.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113469908943693020</id><published>2005-12-16T09:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-16T10:18:19.200+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;My sister bought hamsters 2 weeks ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 hamsters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp; she's afraid of them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;They go crazy at night, running their wheel like nobody's business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; I go crazy coz of those mofos. AND NOW THEY'RE ASLEEP. I could just give them bear hugs. Each and every one of them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;Anyway...............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sings* My cast comes off on Thursday, my cast comes off on Thursday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6 more days before I can hopskipjumpbendrun with my left leg again (and probably break it again). Daddy says I won't be able to do that much even after it comes off but who cares. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But frankly, I just wanna play tennis again. Now &lt;strong&gt;THAT'S&lt;/strong&gt; my resolution this New Year.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div aling="left"&gt;I dreamt I was playing catching with Charlene, Zen, Shamayne &amp; some other people in school while the school was emtpy. Then we walked to my house to study to pass the time away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was studying Mathematics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I walked them out of my house.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&amp;amp; all of a sudden I started pking. HAHA. Reminds me of the time I tried doing the palm spin on my sofa in the living room. Ended up in a very... funny position.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WANT TO PARKOUR NOW NOW NOW.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;I'm gonna busy myself trying to shake the hamsters' cage just so that I keep them awake the whole day. Let's see how they like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Retribution, baby. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113469908943693020?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113469908943693020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113469908943693020' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113469908943693020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113469908943693020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/12/my-sister-bought-hamsters-2-weeks-ago.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113464204120519176</id><published>2005-12-15T18:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-15T18:39:42.863+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>September 10. September 10. September 10.&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;Shinoozle. Bullshinoozle.&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;Sighhhh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113464204120519176?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113464204120519176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113464204120519176' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113464204120519176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113464204120519176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/12/september-10.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113463609742357240</id><published>2005-12-15T15:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-15T16:41:54.270+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;Dislocated my knee during training 2 and a half weeks ago. Second serious training with the boys and my knee just couldn't take it.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;laidfu0943 rc4ha0n2[5c vvi 2a850=24c982mmc58akrp4-23i$642923$^*546.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;OK, so I have been entertaining myself at home with Jane Austin, TV, Sims 2, eating and sleeping. And sadly, Sims 2 and TV have been a major let-down because it is getting way too boring.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;The only times I've been out were the times I had to go to the hospital and once when I went to Starbucks to visit the people.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;Good Lord, do I miss tennis. I miss running around. I miss being able to walk. I miss being self-reliant. I miss miss miss miss tennis. But fcuk, the last time I went to the hospital, it felt like a sledgehammer hit me in the knee when the stupid doctor poked at it. Funny thing was that I didn't cry when I dislocated it. I cried when my mum told me I couldn't play tennis for afew months. Grrrrrr.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;OK, so here's what happened. We were doing some speed drills and I partnered up with Collin. It was my turn to chase him so I did. I managed alright til we reached the end of the courts and I jumped and landed on my left foot. I landed 'weirdly', dislocating my knee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And oh ya, have I mentioned how much I totally &lt;strong&gt;despise&lt;/strong&gt; Jay? Well, I do. With such murderous conviction. AHEM. Enough about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coach Ching is the lamest guy everrrr. Haha. &lt;em&gt;Don't fade away Joanna. Don't go...&lt;/em&gt; I burst out laughing when I heard that. Didn't help that he was carrying me so I moved when I laughed and my knee jolted in pain when I did that.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yes, I'm stuck in a cast til the 22nd. Sucks that I can't go for GII practices for the midnight mass and all. Especially since it'll be my last christmas here. Oh well.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;And Josh Lee from the Aiya! crew is &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;soooooo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; hot! I could just faint.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113463609742357240?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113463609742357240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113463609742357240' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113463609742357240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113463609742357240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/12/dislocated-my-knee-during-training-2.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113154766046127174</id><published>2005-11-09T22:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-09T22:55:05.346+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I really couldn't care less for such friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suddenly realized how I have so many 'toxic' friends, if you catch my drift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;OK, here's the quick update on my life for the past don'tknowhowmanydays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found Math easy but after hearing people say it was only OK/abit tough I feel damn low. Like I just jinxed my Paper 1...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Social Studies sucked balls. Funny thing was, I studied Venice 2 days prior to the exam &amp; only studied Sri Lanka 10 minutes before going into the hall but I chose to do Sri Lanka for my essay. Pffft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People found English easy but like I said, I don't want to jinx things so ya, I found it kind of hard. Seriously, I hated Paper 1 Section B.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Physics was horrible! I didn't expect so many experiments to come out! &amp;amp; Sarah came up to me right before the exam, "JO! The exam's gonna be damn easy! Coz the Chemistry was damn easy so this one will be damn damn easy". I was so happy I was high-fiving everyone around me shouting, "A1! A1!" Then I turned to the first page &amp; my jaw dropped to the floor. Grrrrrrrrrr. I did sound &amp;amp; transfer of energy for the essay questions. Two chapters I touched the LEAST. I studied electricity so much... non of which came out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&amp;, I've actually been studying! E'erbody be vurrry proud of Jojojojojojojojojojojo! Haha. &amp;amp; no, NOT at Starbucks albeit I miss that place &amp; go there at any given chance I get...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Been studying in the music room with Stefie &amp;amp; Sarah. Happy because I feel 182739187491837019237 times more productive there &amp; 99999999999999999999999999999999999 times happier coz I get to study &amp;amp; catch up with two of my goooodest closest friends!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&amp;&amp;amp; as I've promised to Daddio, I don't sleep so late before exams anymore. I just wake up earlier. Haha. Like, at 5 am to study. Which isn't that early considering I bathe &amp; eat THEN study. But still, feeling really good about my studying. Hope it reflects on my report book next year. Hoho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&amp;amp;&amp;&amp;amp;, I actually enjoy studying now! I felt so smart after I did 5 hours of Physics &amp; 2 hours of Lit the other day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&amp;amp;&amp;&amp;amp;&amp;, since I drank two tall cups of caffe latte at Starbucks just now (thanks to Joshua for the extra cup!:D) I'll be up the whole night &amp;amp; morning studying! Woohoo! Never in my entire life did I ever think I'd actually be excited at the prospect of studying. Hurr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&amp;&amp;amp;&amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;! I want some more coffee now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113154766046127174?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113154766046127174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113154766046127174' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113154766046127174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113154766046127174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/11/i-really-couldnt-care-less-for-such.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113111638672186465</id><published>2005-11-04T23:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-04T23:02:20.086+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;T.H. White said; perhaps we all give the best of our hearts uncritically...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;to those who hardly think about us in return.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'There is no privacy that cannot be penetrated.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;No secret can be kept in a civilised world.&lt;/span&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Society is a masked ball, where everyone hides his real character,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;then reveals it by &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;hiding&lt;/span&gt;.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&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="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Studying in school was great.&lt;br /&gt;(The later part of) Tuition was great.&lt;br /&gt;Starbucks was great.&lt;br /&gt;Eating prata with Kenneth, Charlene, Zen, Shamayne, Marilyn &amp;amp; Audrey was great.&lt;br /&gt;Hanging at Zen's house was great.&lt;br /&gt;Playing with Zoe, Zen's dog was great.&lt;br /&gt;Playing in the toilet was great.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;But there's always that niggling feeling at the back of my &lt;strike&gt;mind&lt;/strike&gt; heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Something's wrong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113111638672186465?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113111638672186465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113111638672186465' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113111638672186465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113111638672186465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/11/t.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113102212429018057</id><published>2005-11-03T20:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-03T20:48:44.303+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Stay with me&lt;br /&gt;You're the one I need&lt;br /&gt;You make the hardest things&lt;br /&gt;Seem easy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep my heart&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere drugs don't go&lt;br /&gt;Where the sunshine slows&lt;br /&gt;Always keep me close&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only you could see&lt;br /&gt;The stranger next to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;You promise you promise that you're done&lt;/u&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;But i cant tell you from the drugs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Don't let go&lt;br /&gt;You dig a great big hole&lt;br /&gt;Down an endless hole&lt;br /&gt;We'll both go&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're so blind&lt;br /&gt;You can't save me this time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Hope comes from inside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;sup&gt;&lt;sup&gt;&lt;sup&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;sup&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff4500;"&gt;And I feel so low tonight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;If only you could see&lt;br /&gt;The stranger next to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;You promise you promise that you're done&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;But I can't tell you from the drugs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I wish you could see&lt;br /&gt;This face in front of me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You're sorry you swear it you're done&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;But I can't tell you from the drugs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Ohhhh)&lt;br /&gt;(Ohhhh)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(take me) I need your help&lt;br /&gt;(so far away) To pull me up take the wheel&lt;br /&gt;(take me) Out from me&lt;br /&gt;(so far away) Out from me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Take me) If only you could see (I need your help)&lt;br /&gt;(So far away) The stranger next to me (To pull me up take the pain)&lt;br /&gt;(Take me) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You promise you promise that you're done&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/u&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Out from me)&lt;br /&gt;(So far away)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;But I can't tell you from the drugs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Out from me)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Take me) I wish that you could see (I need your help)&lt;br /&gt;(So far away) This face in front of me (To pull me up take the wheel)&lt;br /&gt;(Take me)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You're sorry you swear it you're done&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Out from me)&lt;br /&gt;(So far away)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;But I can't tell you from the drugs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Out from me)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Keep my heart&lt;br /&gt;somewhere drugs don't go&lt;br /&gt;Where the sunshine slows&lt;br /&gt;always keep me close&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I shouldn't be so angry. But she promised me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talk about broken promises...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113102212429018057?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113102212429018057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113102212429018057' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113102212429018057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113102212429018057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/11/stay-with-me-youre-one-i-need-you-make.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113094482010798059</id><published>2005-11-02T23:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-02T23:20:20.130+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I was spring-cleaning my computer (perfect timing aye?) &amp; I came across this picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;That was taken when Irene, Sheryl, Sarah &amp; I went to watch Stepford Wives. I remember when because I remember it was that movie that I kept laughin at &amp; Irene didn't get alot of the jokes. Haha. I miss those days...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&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 align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I've got a knack for inviting disaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I've missed talking to Sarah. Today's tuition was wonderful. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Today Jo &amp; I were &lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;VERY&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;VERY&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; VERY&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/u&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;horny girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took me an hour to convince myself that I'm straight. *guffaws*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took 2 showers today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hhotttt day yes?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;OK, bye. &lt;/span&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/15819057-113094482010798059?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113094482010798059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113094482010798059' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113094482010798059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113094482010798059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/11/i-was-spring-cleaning-my-computer.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113085703236986870</id><published>2005-11-01T22:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-01T22:57:12.370+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Hello. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's easier to be...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113085703236986870?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113085703236986870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113085703236986870' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113085703236986870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113085703236986870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/11/hello.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113084393911300035</id><published>2005-11-01T19:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-01T19:18:59.123+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Jennifer asked where I was going early this afternoon &amp; after I told her I where...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Can you ask your friends to come here?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh man, you should've seen her. She was really sick just now and she looked up at me while she was lying down and I could've just died then &amp;amp; there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tell you what, if I see Sarah I'll ask her to visit you when she can k?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She nods then asks me why she doesn't come here anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh. I don't know man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's much better now. Came back from Starbucks. When I walked in the computer room I saw my mum feeding her. When she say me she started talking &amp; talking &amp;amp; talking. So glad she's alright now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I didn't know I wasn't sick anymore til Daddy told me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can you not love a girl like her?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Company at Starbucks was great as usual. Only person who realized I was down was Max. Studied abit of Social Studies. Gave Max the Kinder Buenos I took from him last week. &amp; I messaged the browneyed boy a Happy Birthday &amp;amp; he made my insides feel funny for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gyming tonight I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To all those celebrating tonight,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HAPPY DEEPAVALI!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I'm not sad, just thinking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113084393911300035?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113084393911300035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113084393911300035' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113084393911300035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113084393911300035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/11/jennifer-asked-where-i-was-going-early.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113077691835883874</id><published>2005-11-01T00:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-01T00:41:58.376+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Happy November 1st.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why I still get upset now. After everything... Why the hell do I choose to be so sad over such shit on the 17th of every month and the 1st of every November damnit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not like it matters anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I tell everyone it's all good again and you don't bother me anymore; what bullshit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck today. You're not the only problem today. Now that other problem has popped up and I'm just staring at her pictures. How significant I feel. I am so fucking important in her life that I don't even seem to be there anymore. I mean, come on; you can't get any better than that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you feel my desperation? Could you see it? Didn't you realize I was tripping over myself to try and get things back up. I bet you were too busy to even see me at the background. I was always behind you, trying to get the nerve to walk up to you and build back what was fading. And it's not that you don't try too. You do too. But we're just too busy. You're busy. I'm busy. Both of us are too fucking busy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a lame excuse we have aye?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not angry. I promise to God I'm not. Fact is, I don't know how I feel. I bet your buds are reading this now and thinking, &lt;em&gt;Jo's such a bitch, it's not her fault. It's all Jo's fault.&lt;/em&gt; All my fault?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, it takes two to tango.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why couldn't things be back to how they were? What happened along the way? What did we do wrong? Or are we just over-analysing this? Is it simplier than it seems?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried, but you couldn't because you were too sick to talk on the phone... I understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff4500;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;tiny&gt;&lt;sup&gt;&lt;sup&gt;&lt;small&gt;but you were well enough to scream your head off when your best friends went onstage to get their awards huh?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/tiny&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Have I mentioned how much I miss you? And you too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it means anything to you, I never showed your letter to anybody. Not because I was ashamed, but because I know you'd do the same for my letter...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And even though I may not be so priveleged anymore to be one of your closest friends, I hope I'm at least important enough to you to have another chance before I'm gone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113077691835883874?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113077691835883874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113077691835883874' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113077691835883874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113077691835883874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/11/happy-november-1st.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113075886667691535</id><published>2005-10-31T19:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T19:46:58.506+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Remember during Stacey's birthday party &amp; Kenny took off his shirt &amp;amp; I just drooled at his abs?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when Agnes &amp; I sneaked out of our houses for a night of fun &amp;amp; scare, breaking into __ _______ with Sheng, Kenny, Eugene &amp; Melvin, climbing the scafoldings &amp;amp; walking along the roofs of the buildings?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when Laura &amp; I went to Sheng's chalet with Tim &amp;amp; I got to know Dawn &amp; realized she was actually really nice?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember the next day after when Kenny, Sheng &amp;amp; I watched Laura's match at kallang. Kenny asked her what the score was using hand signs. Then she told him she was down. He pointed the thumbs up sign?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when they started talking about making out with a boster?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when I had the hugest crush on J___, &amp; I'd stare &amp;amp; stare at him for hours on end during practice?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember my first pk experience?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember my first jam?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember white houses?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember the late-night talks between us?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when I was so angry at him &amp;amp;amp; I didn't hold anything back; blaming him for everything?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;him: I'm a whore.&lt;/em&gt; was his apology.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;me: Glad you know.&lt;/em&gt; was my acceptance of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when he told me that one of the G.O's back in Bintan&lt;br /&gt;died from high fever; the muscular jap dude; the one we spiked his drink with salt and crap?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;him: But we didn't kill him not to worry.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember what tomorrow, November the 1st, means to me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember how I cried &amp; cried &amp;amp; cried to a friend a week before going for the browneyed boy's party?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember how the browneyed boy was gone for 3 months in Australia training &amp; I felt like tearing myself in shreds because I couldn't see him anymore?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Remember the New Year's Eve Party at my place when I felt so low only to see him walk into the house &amp;amp; I fell madly in love again?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when I wanted to talk to Kenny online but ended up talking to his 9 year old sister &amp; when I told Kenny he called his house straight away to scold his sister. :O And in turn, I scolded him for scolding his sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember in the PK forum how Nazir was so... hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Anyone else wear left knee guards and I'll start my own PK:SG:PT (PT:Pissed Traceurs). Schwing you can wear elbow, right knee, ankle, neck, chest stomach pads for all I care, but touch the left and I'll pluck out your leg hair each time you attempt a stunt. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when Sarah, Sheryl, Irene &amp;amp; I were in the cab, already late for EMDD but had to turn back to Sarah's house because she forgot our tickets?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sheryl, remember how we talked about our dream house and how we'd all live together, one floor for each of us and the top level would be the tennis courts and shits?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember how Nart &amp; I talked til 3.30 in the morning just exchanging jokes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;In accordance to the prophecy.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when I kicked the school's computer in Computer Lab 1 and the front broke?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember there was a period of time when I was so misanthropic, I seemed to have been PMSing 24/7?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember the Blue concert when we were so wild but the crowd was so dead?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when I'd lie on his bed &amp;amp; he'd play with my hair &amp; I'd stop him because I hate it when he did that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when he'd tell me there was a scary part coming in the movie just so I'd hide behind his shoulders?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when I'd sneak out of the house just to see him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when Sarah, Sheryl &amp;amp; Russ, Irene &amp;amp; I'd go out for lunch &lt;em&gt;every single day after school&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss those days. Don't you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113075886667691535?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113075886667691535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113075886667691535' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113075886667691535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113075886667691535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/10/remember-during-staceys-birthday-party.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113072948102683844</id><published>2005-10-31T11:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T11:31:21.026+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Haha! I tinkered with my template abit and I got this. Don't know what to think of it but oh well. And I have the turqoise colour, in commemoration of when I was in TU 1-4 in Primary school. And since I couldn't find Jonquil, I used yellow. OKOK. Laura's here! Bye!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113072948102683844?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113072948102683844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113072948102683844' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113072948102683844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113072948102683844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/10/haha-i-tinkered-with-my-template-abit.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113072699845649156</id><published>2005-10-31T10:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T10:49:58.466+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v280/joannacabodoc/ed50.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I'm in in love with Jimmy Eat World's &lt;em&gt;The World You Love&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I got a story it's almost finished&lt;br /&gt;all i need is someone to tell it too&lt;br /&gt;maybe, that's you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;our time is borrowed and spent too freely&lt;br /&gt;every minute i have needs to be made up&lt;br /&gt;but how?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;i'm looking for a nice way to say&lt;br /&gt;"i'm out."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;i want out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;i fall asleep with my friends around me&lt;br /&gt;only place i know, i feel safe&lt;br /&gt;i'm gonna call this home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the open road is still miles away&lt;br /&gt;Hey nothing serious&lt;br /&gt;we still have our fun&lt;br /&gt;oh we had it once&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Windows open and close&lt;br /&gt;that's just how it goes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;don't it feel like sunshine afterall&lt;br /&gt;the world we love forever, gone&lt;br /&gt;we're only just as happy&lt;br /&gt;as everyone else seems to think we are&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;i'm in love with the ordinary&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i need a simple space&lt;br /&gt;and rest my head&lt;br /&gt;everything gets clear&lt;br /&gt;well i'm a little ashamed for asking&lt;br /&gt;but just a little helps&lt;br /&gt;it gets me straight again&lt;br /&gt;helps me get over it (over it)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;it might seem like a dream&lt;br /&gt;but it's real to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;don't it feel like sunshine afterall&lt;br /&gt;the world we love forever, gone&lt;br /&gt;we're only just as happy&lt;br /&gt;as everyone else seems to think we are&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;you should see the canals are freezing&lt;br /&gt;you should see me high&lt;br /&gt;you should just be here&lt;br /&gt;be with me here&lt;br /&gt;it doesn't seem theres hope for me&lt;br /&gt;i let you down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;but i won't give in now&lt;br /&gt;not for any amount&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;don't it feel like sunshine afterall&lt;br /&gt;the world we love forever, gone&lt;br /&gt;we're only just as happy&lt;br /&gt;as everyone else seems to think we are&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113072699845649156?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113072699845649156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113072699845649156' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113072699845649156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113072699845649156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/10/im-in-in-love-with-jimmy-eat-worlds.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113068467627536216</id><published>2005-10-30T23:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T09:59:57.980+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Imogen Heap's &lt;em&gt;Goodnight and go&lt;/em&gt; makes me feel so warm &amp; fuzzy inside. Like I really want to sing it out loud &amp;amp; proud. Haha. Don't know why. I see bits of the lyrics part of my life. A certain aspect anyway. I have it on replay on the ipod now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANYWAY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister's sick now. So is my brother &amp; have I mentioned my Mum? Man, I feel so guilty. My fault for getting sick in the first place. Nontheless, my sister wasn't that sick this evening so we did some ghost thingies with plastic, newspaper &amp;amp; strands of plastic bits. I love my little baby princess! We hung them at the porch gate. I lifted her up to tie the highest ghost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I DON'T WANT HER TO EVER GROW UP. I'll be really sad next year when she goes to primary school. Coz then she'll be in school &amp; I'll be at home &amp;amp; I won't be able to play as much with her coz I'll probably be busy in the afternoons. =\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\My brother's really funny today. He was playing computer, I was bathing, my Dad was brushing his teeth &amp; Jennifer was watching TV. So anyway, the doorbell rang and he ran to get it. Jennifer, by the way, is very deaf to anything and everything around her whenever her Spongebob/Pokemon/Barbie is on TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, apparently there was a group of kids trick or treating. My brother, not knowing what to do, just sputtered some nonsense &amp;amp; closed the door on them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He ran back to our room, passing by my Dad &amp; telling him there were kids trick or treating. My Dad went to the front porch and sure enough, the kids were still there. And since my sister wanted to see the kids, my Dad had to help her into her pants(She's a wierd one fokes. She can be naked with only her underwear with the aircon on but she'll CRY coz she'll feel hot &amp;amp; &lt;em&gt;"THE AIRCON NOT WORKINGGGGGGG'&lt;/em&gt;, even though it's blasting cool air directly at her...).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time they came to the front porch to see the kids, they had gone. HAHAHA. My sister proceeded to burst out crying &amp; crying coz she didn't get to see them. Poor baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother has his eyes glued to the computer 20/7. The other 4 hours are for the daily obulations(?) &amp;amp; necessities. I don't blame him SINCE HE HAS QUAKE 4!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My my my. I wished so hard for exams to be over when I found out Daddy bought it on Friday. Unknown fact about Jo, she loves these kind of things. The only reason why I seem to be on the un-gory side of things is because I haven't had time to go shopping with Daddy for games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crap, my fingers are itching to play. I'll probably play later on... nononono. I'll be studying Bio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grrr. But seriously. If that's not bad enough, Jason re-installed Quake 3 Arena; one of my all-time favourite games. Come to think of it, I haven't touched Halo for far too long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh. All my Xbox, Playstation &amp; Gamecube games are collecting dust in the computer room! After O's I am SO gonna book a day with my brother just to play everything in that room. Oh oh! And I hear there's another Tomb Raider game coming up next year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man, I suddenly miss Renata &amp;amp; Michaela... I think one of the main reasons we were best friends was because we played these kind of shit all day long last time... I think they were the only best friends I ever had in my 16 years on Earth. Haha. Abit of a pessimist when it comes to best friends now... ANYWAY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss hanging out with my brother &amp; sister &amp;amp; being the mediator of their fights, stopping them from throttling each other to death... OK, I might seem childish but heck it. Haha. It's fun being childish for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister's eggggcited for tomorrow since Laura, Sheryl &amp; Irene are coming over to study! Hoho. She thought I was going Starbucks again, but I told her I'd be just downstairs... I hope she won't ask to go down with us coz I don't think I'd be able to concentrate. Hmmmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a more unhappy/discontented/angry/irritated/*insert mildly negative word here*, Daddy most probably won't be around for Thanksgiving. &gt;=(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dislike this project he has at New York. He's always flying there for weeks at a time, it's so irritating. First it was my birthday, then he flys with my Mum and Jennifer to look for a house at Hawaii without Jase &amp;amp; me. Now this. I will seriously cry til the cows come home if he's not here for Christmas. That'll mean I'll be spending Christmas alone since my Mum, Jen &amp; Jase will be in Philippines til 26. Won't be there since I'll be in Malaysia til 22nd (if the over-protective man of the house lets me). Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, the decision on whether I can go for the Malaysia trip with coach &amp;amp; the boys all rests on Stefanie. If she's coming along with us, I'll have an 85% chance. If not then... STEFANIE TANNNNNNNNNNNNNN! PLEASE GO WITH USSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, my earl grey tea in the computer room has probably gotten cold. Darn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be &lt;strike&gt;playing Halo&lt;/strike&gt; studying Bio drinking cold tea. How icky is that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Say goodnight and go&lt;br /&gt;Skipping beats, flashing jeeps&lt;br /&gt;I am struggling&lt;br /&gt;Daydreaming, been sitting, the corner cafe&lt;br /&gt;And I'm left in bits, recovered tectonic, trembling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You get me everytime&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Why'd you have to be so cute&lt;br /&gt;It's impossible to ignore you&lt;br /&gt;Must you make me laugh so much&lt;br /&gt;It's bad enough we get along so well&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say goodnight and go&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Follow you home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;You've got your headphones on&lt;br /&gt;And your dancing&lt;br /&gt;Got lucky, beautiful shot&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're taking everything off&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch the curtains, wide open&lt;br /&gt;And you fall in the same routine&lt;br /&gt;Flicking through the TV&lt;br /&gt;Relaxed and reclining&lt;br /&gt;And you think you're alone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Oh why'd you have to be so cute&lt;br /&gt;It's impossible to ignore you&lt;br /&gt;Must you make me laugh so much&lt;br /&gt;It's bad enough we get along so well&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say goodnight and go&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of these days&lt;br /&gt;You'll miss your train, and come stay with me&lt;br /&gt;It's always say goodnight and go&lt;br /&gt;We'll have drinks and talk about things&lt;br /&gt;And any excuse to stay awake with you&lt;br /&gt;You'd sleep here, I'd sleep there&lt;br /&gt;But then the heating may be down again&lt;br /&gt;At my convenience&lt;br /&gt;We'd be good, we'd be great together&lt;br /&gt;Go&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Why'd you have to be so cute&lt;br /&gt;It's impossible to ignore you&lt;br /&gt;Must you make me laugh so much&lt;br /&gt;It's bad enough we get along so well&lt;br /&gt;Say goodnight and go&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it always, always&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight and Go&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight and Go!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113068467627536216?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113068467627536216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113068467627536216' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113068467627536216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113068467627536216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/10/imogen-heaps-goodnight-and-go-makes-me.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113060798476541464</id><published>2005-10-29T01:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-30T01:53:14.523+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I have been in a state of sickness for the past 5 days &amp; I'm rolling into day 6. Laura says if I keep up with the shouting it'll stay on into the exams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while I enjoy my very sexy voice (Zen finds it sexyyy! I bet it turns her on!), I miss singing. Tried singing More Than Words in front of Audrey, Zen &amp;amp; Melissa outside Starbucks but they ended up laughing at my efforts. Grrr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that I'm in such a bad state now of course. I got over my fever &amp; headache 2 days ago. I called Laura today coz I realize we hadn't spoken for the longest time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There weren't any bad feelings involved, if you get what I mean. It was just, with our hectic schedules &amp;amp; her being busy when I'm free and me being busy when she's free... it's hard to keep in touch with good friends like her when exams roll in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it felt good during our mini catch-up. Funny how we can not talk (I'm not talking about the mandatory greetings) for 3 months but when we start talking again it's like we just spoke to each other 2 days ago or something. There wasn't any question of why I never spoke to her or that paranoia feeling that we might be drifting apart. I mean, sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If one hasn't kept in touch for that long, there's bound to be some distance. That isn't such a bother to me since I know everything'll work out. It always does when it comes to Laura. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jo anne la la la loves laura la la!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, sentiments aside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dropped by Starbucks yesterday after English class with Marilyn &amp; Audrey! Can't remember what happened though. Haha. But I know it was a fun day yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh ya, and Tom came back from Australia with his very awesome tan. Spun through his equally (probably even more) awesome ipod nano. He's got so many nice songssss!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;He has The Shins in his ipod nano&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Man that's funny. No, but seriously. He's got really good songs &lt;small&gt;minus the shins&lt;/small&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then today went to Starbucks to really study. Sat with Audrey. I did Math while she was studying her chinese. Zen &amp;amp; Melissa were there too! And so were Max, Jo, Deb, Lulu &amp; KC. Audrey is my bitching partner eeerbody! Hoho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Audrey thinks I've made an improvement on *something. Yayy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was happily ordering mint tea from Aunty Jane when Max comes up behind me and tells her that I'm having camomile tea. EEEW. Disgustingest thing I've ever taken. Eugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And like I told Audrey &amp;amp; Melissa, the perks of having Max know I like him is that they can tease me about him all they want and I don't have to worry about him finding out. Albeit I still do get embarrassed of course. But I take it in my stride. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At around 3 Max, Jo and I left to eat Sakae. Finally saw Samuel walking at to Starbucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Sakae was fun. First time I've been there. Kept pointing at a plate passing by &amp; asking what it was then Max would look at it funnily as it passed him by. SO CUTE. Our conversation seemed to orbit towards horny stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;JO PUT EYELINER FOR MAX!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*rolls on the floor &amp;amp; dies laughing*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jo was super funny la. Come to think of it, I can't remember how we ended up talking about eyeliner and how Max got his mini makeover from Jo. HE WORE IT TO CHURCH (I think)! They talked about track for awhile and I just listened. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh ya &amp;amp; somewhere along the way, Max said something about track then Jo and I burst out laughing coz we were thinking of his loose briefs and... HAHAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pffft. I cannot, for the life of me, smell or taste! So while the company was wonderful, the food was a dud to my tastebuds. The eel rice thingy Max recommended was kinda tasteless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing I DID taste was the wasabi with soy sauce. I was happily trying to take a bit of the thing. Then he had to 'help' me get it on my chopstick. Man, the wasabi filled my tongue and nostrils with... I don't know how to describe it but it was really WOAH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh ya, Max's new haircut is damn super ugly. I agree with him. It's damn fugly. It's so ugly that he needs to hide it under a paper bag. It's just. Damn. Ugly. So ugly til can just die. HAHAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JOKING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Max is still as cute as ever to me!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113060798476541464?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113060798476541464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113060798476541464' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113060798476541464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113060798476541464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/10/i-have-been-in-state-of-sickness-for.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113023607661959219</id><published>2005-10-25T18:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-25T18:27:56.626+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Sad to say, I am getting very bored of B&amp;amp;W. Ann would kill me for that but yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sucks coz I liked it at first... before I got bored. Hoho. OH SHITE. Wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Went to check on my sister. She bumped her head against my parent's bedpost, then started laughing after awhile. Haha. My sister's crazy. OK, I just realized I told my own blog to wait for me... Pfffft. Wthell.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I am shit scared for my chemistry practical. I got nitric acid but Lthena told me it's hydrochloric acid. Shit la shit la shit shit shit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;OK, so anyway. While I was doing my practical today, I suddenly felt dizzy and I wanted to faint. And I still remember when that point of time was - when I walked to the side bench to get potassium iodide as I was passing by Melissa. Haha. That was a scary moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I spent isolation period in the Bio Lab resting on Audrey's lap. I finished the first part of &lt;em&gt;Dead Funny&lt;/em&gt;. I always think of Vanderdecker as very Johnny Depp-esque.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now unto part two - &lt;em&gt;Faust Among Equals&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I need to say something. But I can't. I fear the worst for almost everything right now. And I want to talk about it to someone, I just can't find someone to talk to. And it's not something I can talk to to just about any of my friends. I hate it when I tell something to someone and then they judge me coz of that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;Anyway! Shan't be so sad. Coz SOMEBODY complained my posts sometimes tend to get depressing. Hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZEN'S SONG ROCKS MY TOES! I stole it and put it on my friendster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ack, my sore throat's getting worse. And I think Guilia called me while I was sleeping and I answered her call. Don't know what I said but she won't pick her phone up. Hahaha. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Hurrr. I slept the whole afternoon, now I need to study. I think I'll call Nart about my problem. She'll keep me sane (for all her insanity) for awhile, I hope.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113023607661959219?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113023607661959219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113023607661959219' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113023607661959219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113023607661959219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/10/sad-to-say-i-am-getting-very-bored-of.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113008145753821547</id><published>2005-10-23T23:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-23T23:39:57.136+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;LEONARDO DICAPRIO WAS SO HOTTT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is so so so so so cute, I swear. I watched it in the school auditorium last Thursday and I was swept away by him. I kept gushing everytime he came on-screen, I bet Marilyn was beginning to get irritated with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But she agreed that he used to look cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now he's just a thirty-something oldie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I get turned on just looking at his (Romeo &amp;amp; Juliet) pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And then I get turned offfffffff so badly when I see pictures of faggots kissing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Errr/ me and my stupid fingers. I clicked on Tiffany's tag and she had said to click on number ten and I did then BAM!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&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;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Gay fest.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Hurrrrrr. Agnes, guess &lt;strike&gt;what&lt;/strike&gt; who turns me on too?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Rrrrrrrrr.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Ddddddddd.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Hhhhhhhh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;OK, yes I know that's alot of who's but heck, I'm a swinging single so who's gonna stop me? Hahahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I'm gonna forget about HIM and you're gonna help me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I say Tuesday and Thursday nights we go do some gym work and watch the guys train aye? Bonus now since Rrr started up training again. Hohoho.&lt;/span&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;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;PLEASE be jealous coz I'll be stuck with them and coach for 3 weeks straight at Penang, Perlis AND Lankawi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&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="font-size:78%;"&gt;Bonus since I'll be able to train with them during intensives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Bonuss since I'll be able to ogle at their cute little asses play in the pool.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Bonusss since... Hahahahahaha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;OK, I'll spare you all the bonuses for AFTER the trip aight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Mojojojo'll have herself an early Christmas present.OOOOH goodie!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113008145753821547?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113008145753821547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113008145753821547' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113008145753821547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113008145753821547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/10/leonardo-dicaprio-was-so-hottt-he-is.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-113005338795987551</id><published>2005-10-23T15:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-23T21:23:45.856+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;"...'I think,' said Jane with conviction, 'that I'd have gone stark staring mad in the early fifteen-sixties.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'I tried that,' Vanderdecker reminisced. 'It lasted about eight hours. You can't go mad running a ship, which is what I do most of the time. You simply don't get an opportunity. Just when you're starting to work up a good thick fuzz of melancholia, someone puts his head round the door to tell you that the cook and the bosun are fighting again, or that some idiot's lost the sextant, or we appear to be sixty leagues off the Cape of Good Hope and weren't we meant to be going to Florida? There's all sorts of things I was always meaning to get around to - learning to play the flute, calculateing the square root of nought, going mad - but I just didn't have the time. After a while you give up and get on with things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;em&gt;Dead Funny&lt;/em&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tom Holt is such a &lt;strong&gt;dead funny&lt;/strong&gt; fellow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come to think of it, I wouldn't mind being an immortal pirate (having lived for about four centuries, give or take afew months) sailing in a big sixteenth century ship with a bunch of idiots, only to be able to go to shore for a month after every sevan years coz I smelt&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;"...a muck-heap on which someone has placed the decomposing bodies of three hundred and thirty-three dead foxes. Next to this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;muck-heap try and picture an open sewer. Not just any ordinary open sewer, mind - this one collects the effluent from&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;an ammonia &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;works on the way. The muck-heap is, of course, in a back yard of a cloera hospital... No, don't bother. Just take it from me, it was an &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;absolute zinger of a smell."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He reminds me of Douglas Adam's &lt;em&gt;Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK! Back to Chemistry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bye kids, be good for me me me. Hahaaaaa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-113005338795987551?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/113005338795987551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=113005338795987551' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113005338795987551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/113005338795987551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/10/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112964857914930110</id><published>2005-10-18T23:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-18T23:31:04.963+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Tomorrow is my French written exam and I am shivering like maddd now. OK, partly coz of the damn air-conditioning. But mostly coz all hell's gonna break loose tomorrow. Damn, I was actually contemplating (again) on not going for the exam. Hardeeharhar. If shit were that easy...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Oh wells. I'll bang on my grammar and Vocabulary and shite (which I am very limited in), and hope that I'll at least get a mark for my composition. And get this, Jo told me yesterday that Shane takes French also.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No doubt he's better than me... Anyone who gets more than 20 for their French exam is entitled to brag about it to my face. No, really. Go ahead.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;So today's my brother's birthday and I had a fun time at Marche with the family and Jason's friend, Chee How. Or however you spell his chinese name. I ate and ate and ate and ate. Did I mention that I ate? Yes, I ate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when I stood up to get my dessert my mum laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mum:&lt;em&gt;I know what you're going to get!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:&lt;em&gt;Haha! Do you want some?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mum:&lt;em&gt;OK! Let's go!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daddy:&lt;em&gt;Hahaha. Nobody's allowed to eat crepes! No crepes for today!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like we'd listen to Daddio. Haha. See, it's become a routine for my mum and I to eat Mango crepe everytime we go Marche to eat. It's just been a constant since... the first time I ate there. Haha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;OK and I hated coach yesterday. Sorry, I highly &lt;em&gt;detested&lt;/em&gt; coach yesterday. And funny thing was I detested him not because he pushed me past my limits... it was because he pushed Joy past her's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's a nine year old kid who just treats tennis as a game. Not nice to have to push her up to just below Josiah's level. But while I was picking up the tennis balls he sorta explained to me why. And I kind of agree with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jo, it'll be better if she breaks now than if she breaks during the intensives... do you understand?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny how it sounded like a semi-apology. Maybe he could tell I didn't like the way he was towards her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But seriously, yesterday's training was really tough. Went back to the basic ground strokes but he took it a few notches higher.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Cross-courts never seemed so difficult. Sigh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;My insides twist and turn with anticipation each time I think of intensives in a few week's time and of the Penang trip in December. More so since coach told me I'd probably be doing the whole Malaysia trip. Penang, Lankawi and Perlis. Ooh can't wait.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Hmmm. I just realized that since I'll be having intensives during O levels and after O levels, I won't really have much time on my hands... Training at Bedok 4-6 hours a day isn't really what I'd call enjoying the afterglow of O's. I mean, I &lt;strong&gt;love&lt;/strong&gt; tennis. But... where do my friends go? Haha. OK, I shall not look that far into the future. Just take things as they come as you always do Jo...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Daddy and I are up to our necks with work and studies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has conferences almost everyday now and I can sometimes hear the frustration in his voice when he talks to his colleagues. So he'll be conferencing in the computer room while I try to study at the dining table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This evening while Daddy and I were in the car getting Jason and Jennifer's cakes he talked to me about my late night studies. And yes, OK I'll be a good girl and listen to him and not study til I fall asleep only to be woken up by him or my mum drowning in my own drool. Hahahaha. After tonight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Tonight I'll study til I fall asleep and leave my bedroom light on for him to switch off. After tonight I'll do what he told me to do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Sigh. Have I mentioned how much I love my Daddio?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Oh yes,  and it's last calls for quitters.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112964857914930110?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112964857914930110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112964857914930110' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112964857914930110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112964857914930110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/10/tomorrow-is-my-french-written-exam-and.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112945764408007500</id><published>2005-10-16T18:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-16T18:14:30.053+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;*smirks*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Things just keep getting more and more ______ yes? I don't even know why I do what I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should just stop being so sensitive to people and start being a bitch again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I hope you have found a friend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112945764408007500?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112945764408007500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112945764408007500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112945764408007500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112945764408007500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/10/smirks-things-just-keep-getting-more.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112938680892780629</id><published>2005-10-15T22:33:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-15T22:33:28.936+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Fuck karma.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Fuck it coz it just gave me a five in the face this afternoon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Fuck it coz I'm a two-faced bitch who can't keep her friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Fuck it coz anything I do is and will never be good enough for you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Fuck it coz I thought you were one of the best things that could've happened to me during those 4 years in existence in that fucked up school.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Fuck it coz I don't think we can work things out ever again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Fuck it coz I really want you to know I still love you even if I don't show you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Fuck it coz I really miss hanging out with you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Fuck it coz now I'm even more alone than anything else.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Fuck it coz I'm too scared to pick up the phone to call you and tell you how I feel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Fuck it coz my insecurities are getting the better of me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Fuck it coz you're acting so cold towards me now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Fuck it coz I can't seem to think before I speak anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Fuck it coz I tried and tried to work things out and make things right but I just got everything even more tangled up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Fuck it coz I hate the way you look at me now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Fuck it coz you treat me like you don't know me anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Fuck it coz &lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt; treat you like I don't know you anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Fuck it coz what goes around comes around.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Fuck it coz I want you back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112938680892780629?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112938680892780629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112938680892780629' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112938680892780629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112938680892780629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/10/fuck-karma.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112912838788788020</id><published>2005-10-12T22:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-12T22:56:00.870+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v280/joannacabodoc/ed49.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#A74375;"&gt;I want to feel the pain. I hate not feeling the cut. No matter how hard I try. Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate so many things right now, it hurts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Janelle: &lt;em&gt;Where do you put all your anger?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:&lt;em&gt;I just keep it inside til I'm ready to explode.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Janelle:... &lt;em&gt;That's what I wrote&lt;/em&gt;. *shows paper* &lt;em&gt;"Nowhere; I keep it in my heart til I'm ready to explode. Like a suicide bomber."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to explode like a suicide bomber right now. Just give me empty twin towers any time now. Hell, even Ocean Park could do with some fireworks...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112912838788788020?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112912838788788020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112912838788788020' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112912838788788020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112912838788788020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/10/i-want-to-feel-pain_12.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112843078459535597</id><published>2005-10-04T21:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-04T21:11:28.973+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And as much as I want to end everything here (til 22nd November) with a very happy cheerful entry, I'd be kidding myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started out with that awful dream last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was studying with him at Starbucks. It was very quiet, as though we were the only ones there. But it was pretty crowded and I could see people talking but I couldn't hear anything... Then I took out a penknife and put it on the table. I picked it up and started cutting my wrist and while I did this I looked up at him. Funny thing was I couldn't feel the pain. I couldn't feel anything. I just stared at him. He stared back and asked me what I was doing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;You smoke, I'll cut&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And you know what he did? He said, &lt;em&gt;oh&lt;/em&gt; and turned back to his work. As though it was normal for someone to start cutting her wrist and tell him that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up this morning feeling really out of place. Like I was still stuck in that dream. I checked to make sure my wrist was OK and got ready for school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During History, I saw Janelle's wrist and I pointed it out. She asked me if I used to do that after looking at my wrist and I answered very... dumbly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was kind of scared to go Starbucks today coz of that dream. And while he was teaching me a math sum I had a Deja Vu feeling. Like I was back in my dream.&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;Everybody lies. One'd be lying if one said one has never lied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess I can't really pin it against that person. I lie, they lie, she lies, he lies, we lie, everybody keeps lying and &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;it is just so sickening&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I'm tired of being the passive Jo who acts as though she can't see what's going on.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Would things be different if I start to do what you're doing to yourself? Coz really, what's the difference between smoking and cutting? Either way we'd just be shortening our life on Earth right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They're the same difference, cutting relieves stress. So does smoking. Smoking helps one to numb the pain that hurts more. So does cutting. Cutting is self mutilation. Well, so is smoking. Do you now what you're doing to yourself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while I'm ready with it, I'm still holding out for you. Coz we're still really hopeful that things will turn around for the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you're calling the shots... at least when it comes to me &amp;amp; __.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;You smoke, I'll cut.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;OK?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112843078459535597?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112843078459535597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112843078459535597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/10/and-as-much-as-i-want-to-end.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112833839531107717</id><published>2005-10-03T19:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-03T19:31:20.396+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="FONT-SIZE: 78%" align="right"&gt;Talking to Nicole was a load of my back. Makes me wonder why I didn't think of talking to her in the first place. I really think God created such angels to walk on Earth. Thaaank you babe. =D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Missed all the tuition days when it was just Nicole, Max, Agnes and me.&lt;/span&gt; (&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;sup&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;small&gt;minus all the bitches and bastards I thought were our friends&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;And while I cried at the start over how bad things had seemed to become, I'm still feeling very hopeful that he'll stop hurting himself and be the happy person I saw today. I'm sure many other people share the same sentiments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, I'm sorry to Audrey for making her cry coz... I started crying?!? Haha. Please girl, don't do that again!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;Something Audrey said finally struck me today. These people I see almost everyday really &lt;em&gt;have&lt;/em&gt; been like a part of my family. I swear, we're all so close it's ironic. We've known each other for only 2 or 3 weeks? And we're all so chummy and just really happy people. We can talk about serious things like our aspirations about what we want in life and about really random funny stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It really surprises me how fast we've all grown close. 3 and a half weeks ago I wouldn't think I'd be having a 6 hour conversation with Marilyn and Audrey and a guy who I had always thought was far too noisy in Starbucks.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Man, today was a bumpy day. But I'm glad I was with people I was with today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't want it any other way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MR ZACHARY MAX CHUA MING WEI (TUO EE FU).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, I don't know what the chinese thing is for that only phrase I know in chinese.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;He should be smart enough to interpret what I mean aye?&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt; &lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;OK and yes, I have chosen to take a looooong hiatus of blogspot/livejournal/friendster...etc.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;Basically everything internet-y, with effect from tomorrow night.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;So yes.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;Alrighty, kids be reeeal goooood while I'm gone AIGHT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112833839531107717?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112833839531107717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112833839531107717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112833839531107717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112833839531107717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/10/talking-to-nicole-was-load-of-my-back.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112826554268251567</id><published>2005-10-02T23:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-02T23:05:42.690+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And just as quickly, I realized how utterly stupid it was to write that. It's deleted... no harm done since no one read that (I hope).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Can someone just tell me why I am still feeling very much awake when I have had only 5 hours sleep over the span of 2 days?! Reasons as to why I haven't slept are either coz I was staring &amp; waiting for my phone to ring the night before or coz I was having way to much fun to put my phone down last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way, Jo can't sleep. She has a throbbing headache and there's no panadol in the cupboard.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I'm sitting at the edge of my seat as though something is actually gonna happen. I hope there won't be any more surprises tomorrow. Coz I'm just being bombarded with things and I &lt;em&gt;just need a breather&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I hate the fact that people know something that concerns me but they won't tell me what it is. Like I can't tell when someone lies to my face... much less &lt;strong&gt;3 of my closest friends&lt;/strong&gt;. I can't say I didn't see this coming. I just chose to ignore it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you feel that it's for my own good that you guys lie, so be it. But I know what you guys are trying to keep from me. And if I were one of you, I'd have told myself at the slightest chance. Too late now don't you think?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Just a note; when any of you want to lie to me, don't act like you just did. And it would help if you kept that guilty look for later when I leave. That way, I won't notice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112826554268251567?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112826554268251567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112826554268251567' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112826554268251567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112826554268251567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/10/and-just-as-quickly-i-realized-how.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112821728148887382</id><published>2005-10-02T08:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-02T09:41:21.493+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;2330 - 0530.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW FUNNY/LAUHGABLE/DEEP/INTERESTING/GOD-INSPIRING TALK CAN THE FOUR OF US HAVE?!?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Ooh, last night/this morning's conversation was lovely. But I seriously couldn't take it and fell asleep at the last bit. So they had to shout shout shout in my ear to wake me up. And yes while I enjoyed everrry single bit of the staying awake to talk, I am left with this persistent ringing in the back of my head. Like it's about to explode...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although we had such a heart-to-heart-to-heart-to-heart talk, what we had spoken about evades me. Of course, there're afew things I remember but it's best to keep quiet. Hmmm, hope we made Kenneth happy (and probably really sleepy)!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Daddy's back! So that means we have Paragon grocery shopping later on...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112821728148887382?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112821728148887382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112821728148887382' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112821728148887382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112821728148887382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/10/2330-0530.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112816795353914600</id><published>2005-10-01T19:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-01T19:59:13.546+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Kenneth ne conent pas. Pourquoi?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I hate it when people think I can't be serious just because I always seem like I'm smiling and laughing and joking around. They're the kind of people who don't have a clue about who I am. So don't judge a book by it's cover.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I hope Kenneth'll tell me what's up. Coz he hasn't been the same funny, hyper, happy, Kung-Fu-Master partner he had been for some time.&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone seems so sad nowadays that it seems like a sin to be happy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112816795353914600?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112816795353914600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112816795353914600' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112816795353914600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112816795353914600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/10/kenneth-ne-conent-pas.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112809145690858738</id><published>2005-09-30T22:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-30T22:44:16.913+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Back to you&lt;br /&gt;It always comes around&lt;br /&gt;Back to you&lt;br /&gt;I tried to forget you&lt;br /&gt;I tried to stay away&lt;br /&gt;But it's too late&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so good at forgetting&lt;br /&gt;And I quit every game I play&lt;br /&gt;But forgive me, love&lt;br /&gt;I can't turn and walk away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to you&lt;br /&gt;It always comes around&lt;br /&gt;Back to you&lt;br /&gt;I walk with your shadow&lt;br /&gt;I'm sleeping in my bed&lt;br /&gt;With your silhouette&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;should have smiled in that picture&lt;br /&gt;If it's the last that I'll see of you&lt;br /&gt;It's the least that you&lt;br /&gt;Could not do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leave the light on&lt;br /&gt;I'll never give up on you&lt;br /&gt;Leave the light on&lt;br /&gt;For me too&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to me&lt;br /&gt;I know that it comes&lt;br /&gt;Back to me&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't it scare you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strike&gt;Your will is not as strong&lt;br /&gt;As it used to be&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I do the stupidest things when I get stressed out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started cleaning my desk (and abit on Nart's) this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stood still for 15 minutes in my room when I came home after the horrible day at Starbucks. And I really am sorry. It's not like one really cares at all..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The whole time just standing there. You know, just hoping that if I stand still long enough and I try hard enough... maybe things'll stop too. And if I prayed hard enough, I might've been able to turn back time. I didn't try hard enough and things just getting worse. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.&lt;/span&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 align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que veux-tu que je te dise?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry. More than I can say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112809145690858738?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112809145690858738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112809145690858738' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112809145690858738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112809145690858738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/09/back-to-you-it-always-comes-around.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112800042851105985</id><published>2005-09-29T21:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-29T21:27:30.203+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And I'm watching it all slip away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you whore for your hypocrisy. Gladly appreciate it. Next time try to get your story straight. Coz what you &lt;em&gt;said&lt;/em&gt; and what you &lt;em&gt;did&lt;/em&gt; were two very different things. So c'mon. Out with it our dear bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out with it.&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;div align="left"&gt;Sighhhh. She just makes &lt;strike&gt;me&lt;/strike&gt; us so angry at her. And all for different reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;strong&gt;knew&lt;/strong&gt; there was something. I just didn't want to believe it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;Ugh! Mojo is a very unhappy girlie right now.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112800042851105985?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112800042851105985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112800042851105985' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112800042851105985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112800042851105985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/09/and-im-watching-it-all-slip-away.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112791505576947660</id><published>2005-09-28T21:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-28T21:44:36.723+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;You know how movies seem to go, from the start-really slow paced and nothing seems to be of interest?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Yeah, today school was very uneventful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Then went off to Bishan Junction 8 to "surprise" Max (stupid ass already knew...). Very funny bunch they were. Had a read good time with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monica, Claire, Pamela, Kaiying, Jeolinita, Max, Shane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Err. Shane and Max were gaying around. &lt;strong&gt;Shane licked Max's cheek&lt;/strong&gt;. How kinky can things get with those two "making out"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And ya da ya da ya da happened. Full stop.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Then left for &lt;strike&gt;tuition&lt;/strike&gt;. Took bus with Max and Shane. Those two zonked out once they sat down and I just read my book. When Shane went off Max sat beside me and we were just talking. Coz of the traffic, he offered to pay my cab fare to get to tuition. Haha. So sweet, but I said no. On retrospect, I feel kinda stupid coz we could've gone dutch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;At the last minute I changed my mind and went Starbucks with Max. Kenneth and Audrey were there and we started bitching about that dumb barista, Jason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kenneth and I played "Kung Fu Master". Max joined in and we were laughing so much! Max had to go to the toilet and he almost puked. Oh man, funny shite. He was crying and his face was red! So cute.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And you know how movies go to a climax around the middle/end? My day ended with a big bang (more like a scream). And no, that banging/screaming on the phone was not good. Not good at all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And once again, on retrospect, I feel really stupid. I choose friends over ____. And I was venting it out to Audrey while I walked home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:&lt;em&gt; I don't know why I do this la! Why I choose friends over such things!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Audrey:&lt;em&gt; No, only one.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:&lt;em&gt; Huhh? What're you talking about?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Audrey:&lt;em&gt; You know what I mean. Not all your friends over this. It's just one person you keep choosing over this...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, that is true. There's only one that I'd really choose over anything right now. And that's not fair to everybody else and everything else. I don't know what to do. Once again, that stupid voice keeps coming to my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I miss you, but don't come back&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112791505576947660?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112791505576947660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112791505576947660' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112791505576947660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112791505576947660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/09/you-know-how-movies-seem-to-go-from.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112783063441135342</id><published>2005-09-27T21:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-27T22:17:14.423+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Ooh la la.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Today was alot of dum diddly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;School was god-awful. But my afternoon was very blessed with laughter and it helped me forget almost everything that happened in school.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And tomorrow there'll be dum dum diddliedee. So that'll be some good shit. OK, I just hope I won't feel out of place is all. Rawr.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Mos Burger with the ladies was :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Starbucks with the kids was :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Funny thing is, I'm hanging around the gray areas. Not happy with the shitty things that keep popping up. But I can say that I'm not that sad coz of the very beautiful people that are always around me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Class gossiping with Deb, Audrey and Marilyn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Recess wasted crying over spilt milk (and more) to Sheryl and Irene (Haha. And yes, looking through the cards in primary school days).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The uber funny lunch with Sarah and Stefie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Starbucks fun with Deb, Audrey, Marilyn, Max, Min Xun, Kenneth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;But the hapiness is usually forgotten in all the fear and sadness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Dear God give me the strength to face the storm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Nothing wrong with my medication here. Grammatical and spelling mistakes saved for Nart's haloscan for dear dear Sam to read. HAHA.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112783063441135342?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112783063441135342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112783063441135342' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112783063441135342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112783063441135342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/09/ooh-la-la.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112775279066597552</id><published>2005-09-27T00:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-27T00:39:50.673+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I think people get a kick out of my expression when they start &lt;strong&gt;speaking singlish&lt;/strong&gt; to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, if it's the way the person's been brought up, I can give a little leaway. It's those damn fuckers who use singlish to irritate me. It's as irritating as &lt;em&gt;whatAAAAAfish&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I just remembered how Natashia was irritating the shite out of me during class sometime ago. Then she told me I used the wrong form of singlish. Pardon me dear ma'am. Singlish was never (and never will be) considered anywhere &lt;em&gt;near&lt;/em&gt; being a correct form. Leh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;OK, I know it was aeons ago that this happened but Sarah brought it up this evening... I mean, yesterday evening and I just have to have to post it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we were talking about what kind of tuition we'd give if we had a choice...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sarah:&lt;em&gt; I'd choose Mathematics.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stefanie:&lt;em&gt; Yeah, I think I would too. Or something like&lt;/em&gt; *insert subject here (I forgot)*&lt;em&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:&lt;em&gt; Oh, I'd give PE.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brain stopped functioning an hour ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I still up?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112775279066597552?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112775279066597552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112775279066597552' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112775279066597552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112775279066597552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/09/i-think-people-get-kick-out-of-my.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112774597457004128</id><published>2005-09-26T22:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-26T22:46:14.596+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;*Bambambambam*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One ball goes out, one hits the net, one skims past my head and the last one was so short, it was in the box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How rusty can I get? Once a week training isn't gonna work for me. Not if I want to go Penang.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I'll let you off today. You better train harder!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't so much the anger in his voice than the disappointment I heard. It kinda makes me feel like I shouldn't even contemplate on Penang...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And all the euphoria felt in the library sudden left me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It didn't help with Coach's pep talk on my way back to my block. What he said suddenly makes things so much harder.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Skeletons came out of the closet today.&lt;br /&gt;Namely... no, not namely. I won't say. I guess I should've seen it all before.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But all in all, I'm happy I managed to talk heart to heart with my girlie tonight. Our lunch date tomorrow is &lt;strong&gt;SET!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No bailing out, no last minute commitments, no nothing but my long-lost-friend and I.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I was putting my Tess Gerritsen books up on top of my computer shelf and I realized &lt;em&gt;Seven Types of Ambiguities&lt;/em&gt; is still waiting for me on the shelf. Literally. So yes, &lt;u&gt;ONE LAST BOOK AND I PROMISE I WILL LAY OFF THE BOOKS.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the last one. I promise.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112774597457004128?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112774597457004128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112774597457004128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112774597457004128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112774597457004128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/09/bambambambam-one-ball-goes-out-one.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112773594625579203</id><published>2005-09-26T19:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-26T20:01:30.720+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Library was very fun. With Audrey, Min Xin, Kenneth, Joan, Max and Jeolinita (on the phone).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;So many things happened that really brightened up my Monday. But I'm too lazy to recount. Jeo sounds so cute when she giggles on the phone. Hahaha. Shhhh. I'll keep things a secret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pinched Max til... well, let's just say it'll leave a mark. He wouldn't give me Jeo's number! So desperate times call for desperate measures.&lt;/span&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;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;OK, but I'm sorry la. The Mongolian girl's sorry for pinching the chicken legs' arm so hard... Next time it'll be harder, don't worry. =D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Errr. Due to the very noisy bunch, I have completed only the bare minimum on my Bio. Which is very sad really. And the closest I got to revising French was null... Well, at least I touched the book right? It was on my damn lap. Pffft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow's tuition tuition tuition til the sun comes down. Brrring it on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes, NATASHIA LEE! I am still waiting for you to sms me the damn marks! =\&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Tennis training now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's cause some havoc!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112773594625579203?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112773594625579203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112773594625579203' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112773594625579203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112773594625579203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/09/library-was-very-fun.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112771908150297949</id><published>2005-09-26T15:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-26T15:19:03.170+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I didn't go school today coz I couldn't find my socks in time. Lame excuse yes, but it's still an excuse. Excuses are a very sorry way to go, but heck it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;OK, and the other reason why I didn't go today was coz I was so scared about my English results &lt;strike&gt;that I started crying when I woke up&lt;/strike&gt;. OK, I hope the tears were for nothing...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Grrrr. She's not picking up the damn phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The song is very hypnotic with her very hypnotic voice serenading me to a drowsy state. And it's the good drowsy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK! Enough of Imogen Heap!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off to the library to do some damage to my brain. (:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112771908150297949?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112771908150297949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112771908150297949' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112771908150297949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112771908150297949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/09/i-didnt-go-school-today-coz-i-couldnt.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112765442312296698</id><published>2005-09-25T21:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-25T21:27:29.146+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sanctimonious prick&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&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:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I know this hurts, it was meant to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Was it meant to?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Wasn't it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I waited and waited and waited and waited and...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;and I'm getting tired of waiting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I've got work to do,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;friends to hold on to (while I still can),&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;O levels to have a nervous breakdown over,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;a family to be in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;time to waste (albeit not on you)...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I can't keep putting everything on hold coz I'm waiting for something that might not even come.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Whatever I say is obviously always gonna be speculated and deemed wrong and far too trivial to be given a second thought.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Either way,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;the only thing worse than not knowing, is you thinking that I don't know...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112765442312296698?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112765442312296698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112765442312296698' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112765442312296698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112765442312296698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/09/sanctimonious-prick-i-know-this-hurts.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112764610052512654</id><published>2005-09-25T19:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-25T20:17:48.756+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I'm finishing up on my second book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to the barrage of fans who want to borrow the books. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mmmm! After 22nd November, tennisintensivecamptennisintensivecamptennisintensivecamp&lt;br /&gt;2 December, PenangtripPenangtripPenangtrip!&lt;br /&gt;Um, til then. OlevelOlevelOlevel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ack, slap me now. This book is making me so melancholic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;sup&gt;Were things that messed up that you had to leave the way you did then? You told me I'll understand why you did what you did when I grow up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've grown up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I don't want to understand. I don't want to know you. Who cares? What I have now is all because you left us. Choices have consequences. Things changed for the better. On my part anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How about on yours?&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112764610052512654?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112764610052512654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112764610052512654' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112764610052512654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112764610052512654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/09/im-finishing-up-on-my-second-book.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112756346155798697</id><published>2005-09-24T20:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-24T20:35:02.986+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;small&gt;French today was funny. Thanks to Kenneth and Joel, I've got a shiteload of French notes I seriously did not plan on taking. I plan on grinding their bones to make my bread soon. &lt;em&gt;Sur le pont d'Avignon. On y danse. On y danse. Sur le pont d'Avignon. Sur le danse. Tout en rond.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Choir today was good. Shannon had sore eyes. Michaela had very wicked silver pumps. Darren singing the psalm. Elden the tax-collector. Can. Anyone. Read. Slower. Than....... Him? Perfect coordination. &lt;em&gt;And we'll rise up.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm missing out on the Beer Garden dinner with them coz of my baby sister's gasssstric flu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She puked and shitted so many times this morning til like, 5 in the damn morning. I think she exghausted all her shites and pukes and got tired. Kept having to wake up and help my mum with the kiddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Your lipstick, his collar.. don't bother Angel&lt;br /&gt;I know exactly what goes on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When everything you'll get is&lt;br /&gt;everything that you've wanted, princess&lt;br /&gt;(well which would you prefer)&lt;br /&gt;My finger on the trigger, or&lt;br /&gt;(me face down, down across your floor)&lt;br /&gt;Me face down, down across your floor&lt;br /&gt;(me face down, down across your floor)&lt;br /&gt;Well just so long as this thing's loaded&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And will you tell all your friends&lt;br /&gt;you've got your gun to my head&lt;br /&gt;This all was only wishful thinkin,&lt;br /&gt;this all was only wishful thinkin&lt;br /&gt;And will you tell all your friends&lt;br /&gt;you've got your gun to my head&lt;br /&gt;This all was only wishful thinkin,&lt;br /&gt;this all was only wishful thinkin&lt;br /&gt;let's go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't bother trying to explain Angel&lt;br /&gt;I know exactly what goes on when you're on and&lt;br /&gt;How about I'm outside of your window&lt;br /&gt;(how about I'm outside of your window)&lt;br /&gt;Watchin him keep the details covered&lt;br /&gt;You're such a sucker (you're such a sucker)&lt;br /&gt;for a sweet talker, yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And will you tell all your friends&lt;br /&gt;you've got your gun to my head&lt;br /&gt;This all was only wishful thinkin,&lt;br /&gt;this all was only wishful thinkin&lt;br /&gt;(the only thing that I regret is that I, I never let you hold me back)&lt;br /&gt;And will you tell all your friends&lt;br /&gt;you've got your gun to my head&lt;br /&gt;This all was only wishful thinkin,&lt;br /&gt;this all was only wishful thinkin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoping for the best just hoping nothing happens&lt;br /&gt;A thousand clever lines unread on clever napkins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I will never ask if you don't ever tell me&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;I know you well enough to know you never loved me&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoping for the best just hoping nothing happens&lt;br /&gt;A thousand clever lines unread on clever napkins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I will never ask if you don't ever tell me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;I know you well enough to know you never loved me&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoping for the best just hoping nothing happens&lt;br /&gt;A thousand clever lines unread on clever napkins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I will never ask if you don't ever tell me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;I know you well enough to know... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't I feel anything&lt;br /&gt;from anyone other than you?&lt;br /&gt;Why can't I feel anything&lt;br /&gt;from anyone other than you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And all of this was all your fault&lt;br /&gt;And all of this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I stay jealous)&lt;br /&gt;I stay wrecked and jealous for this,&lt;br /&gt;for this simple reason&lt;br /&gt;I just need to keep you in mind&lt;br /&gt;as something larger than life&lt;br /&gt;(she'll destroy us all before she's through&lt;br /&gt;and find a way to blame somebody else)&lt;br /&gt;I stay wrecked and jealous for this,&lt;br /&gt;for this simple reason&lt;br /&gt;I just need to keep you in mind&lt;br /&gt;as something larger than life&lt;br /&gt;(she'll destroy us all before she's through&lt;br /&gt;and find a way to blame somebody else)&lt;br /&gt;I stay wrecked and jealous for this,&lt;br /&gt;for this simple reason&lt;br /&gt;I just need to keep you in mind&lt;br /&gt;as something larger than life!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I know you well enough to know you'll never love me...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How about you sing one octave lower?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&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 align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;edit//&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I write entries one after another like its the latest trend but that's the way I do my thing. So for nobody's viewing pleasure, here's another one. Editted and reposted just for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things are getting to a point when I'm just being very careful when it comes to... oh so many things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It appears to me that I've ceased to exist in &lt;em&gt;some&lt;/em&gt; people's lives. I don't know what to do anymore. Don't know what to do with her. Or her. Or him. Or even them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just waiting for a miracle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard put to even try to make things as stable as possible on my part... Stable. &lt;em&gt;Unchanging&lt;/em&gt;, that's all it means. A state of constancy, good or bad. &lt;em&gt;Despair&lt;/em&gt; could be thought of as a stable condition. Try confusion. That's been a constant for as long as I want to remember. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112756346155798697?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112756346155798697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112756346155798697' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112756346155798697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112756346155798697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/09/french-today-was-funny.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112748423661924078</id><published>2005-09-23T21:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-23T22:13:09.273+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;sup&gt;&lt;sup&gt;&lt;sup&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I just wish that I matter alittle more than your occasional friend whom you go to. Coz that's how it feels. And if it hurt you to read what I had said, I'm sorry. But it's the whole truth. And I needed to let it out.&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was very overwhelming. 'nuff said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my way home I saw a railing and had a sudden urge to vault over it. Just to see how rusty I am in vaulting. I decided to forgo it since a)I had a stack pile of books and b)I was in school uniform.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine a KC girl running and jumping over a railing only to land on her ass coz she hasn't parkoured in months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A sight to behold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, my mum says I looked so kiddy with my armful of notes and books in one hand, a lollipop in my mouth (which my sister stole from me) and with my uniform all messed up. Righto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I misssssy tennis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kid brother's down with a fever, my baby girl vomitted this evening, and my throat's feeling scratchy. When Daddy comes home, we'll give him a really big hug and pass him our sickness. What a great welcoming that'll be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1moreweek1moreweek1moreweek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't help feeling excited Daddio's coming backkk.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112748423661924078?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112748423661924078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112748423661924078' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112748423661924078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112748423661924078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/09/i-just-wish-that-i-matter-alittle-more.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112740044968162258</id><published>2005-09-22T22:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-22T22:58:46.746+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;*Bish*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss tennis. I haven't played for oh-so-fucking-long. My racket'd be collecting dust by now if I had ever learnt to &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; pick up my racket and swing it around when I was supposed to be studying for a paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I plan to &lt;strong&gt;gym&lt;/strong&gt; tomorrow and no mother/father/sister/brother/friend/guard/rain/sleet/Mark/prelims/O's is EVER gonna stop me from taking the damn elevator down to the the club house and into the gym.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna gym gym gym to get my old form back. HAH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, bon nuit papillons. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;edit//&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in such a hurry to get in the fucking computer room, I ran into the damn door. -.- That's the coolest thing I've done since I walked into the glass paritioning at the MRT station 3 weeks ago...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm finding my way back to sanity again&lt;br /&gt;though I don't really know what I'm gonna do when I get there&lt;br /&gt;and take a breath and hold on tight&lt;br /&gt;spin around one more time&lt;br /&gt;and gracefully fall back to the arms of grace&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cause I am hanging on every word you say and&lt;br /&gt;even if you don't want to speak tonight&lt;br /&gt;that's alright, alright with me&lt;br /&gt;cause I want nothing more than&lt;br /&gt;to sit outside Heaven's door&lt;br /&gt;and listen to you breathing&lt;br /&gt;is where I wanna be yeah &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking past the shadows in my mind into the truth and I'm&lt;br /&gt;trying to identify the voices in my head&lt;br /&gt;God which one's you&lt;br /&gt;let me feel one more time what it&lt;br /&gt;feels like to feel and&lt;br /&gt;break these calluses off of me&lt;br /&gt;one more time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cause I am hanging on every word you say and&lt;br /&gt;even if you don't wanna speak tonight&lt;br /&gt;that's alright, alright with me&lt;br /&gt;cause I want nothing more than&lt;br /&gt;to sit outside your door&lt;br /&gt;and listen to your breathing&lt;br /&gt;is where I wanna be yeah&lt;br /&gt;where I wanna be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want a thing from you&lt;br /&gt;bet you're tired of me&lt;br /&gt;waiting for the scraps to fall off of your table to the ground&lt;br /&gt;cause I just want to be here now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cause I am hanging on every word you say and&lt;br /&gt;even if you don't wanna speak tonight&lt;br /&gt;that's alright, alright with me&lt;br /&gt;cause I want nothing more than&lt;br /&gt;to sit outside Heaven's door&lt;br /&gt;and listen to your breathing&lt;br /&gt;is where I wanna be yeah &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cause I am hanging on every word you say and&lt;br /&gt;even if you don't wanna speak tonight&lt;br /&gt;that's alright, alright with me&lt;br /&gt;cause I want nothing more than&lt;br /&gt;to sit outside Heaven's door&lt;br /&gt;and listen to you breathing&lt;br /&gt;is where I wanna be yeah&lt;br /&gt;where I wanna be&lt;br /&gt;where I wanna be&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;CHARLENE, IT'S &lt;u&gt;BREATHE&lt;/u&gt; BY LIGHTHOUSE!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OC on soon. I'll run out of here (without hitting the door with my toe) and watch now!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112740044968162258?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112740044968162258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112740044968162258' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112740044968162258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112740044968162258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/09/bish-i-miss-tennis.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112738783563560166</id><published>2005-09-22T19:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-22T19:36:02.336+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This morning was very hellish. What with the E math paper and the waiting and the Bio results. But the waiting was hilarious. Weini and Natashia's Yo Mama jokes are crackelacking funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weini:&lt;em&gt; Yo mama so fat that when she told me her weight, I thought it was her phone number.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weini:&lt;em&gt; Yo mama so fat that when she stayed in the Presidential suite, she suffered from clausterphobia.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was supposed to go Varsha's house when Ste&lt;em&gt;funnie&lt;/em&gt; invited me. But I ended up eating at Seoul Garden with the ladies; Annabel, Shu Ting, Adrienne, Katherine, Weini, Lthena and Natashia. And I couldn't go Varsha's house after coz I had to go home home homee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were celebrating Natashia and Shu Ting's belated birthday. Very belated since Nart's birthday was in May. Laugh out loud now please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was pretty bummed about my results but Natashia was just too funny to pass out the opportunity to laugh. &lt;em&gt;HAPPY BIRTHDAY NATASHIA AND SHOOTS!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So at Seoul Garden, we talked about the sickest things people could talk about over lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weini:&lt;em&gt; You know when you shit right, you're ass ever feel like damn &lt;strong&gt;spicy spicy&lt;/strong&gt; kind?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weini:&lt;em&gt; Shit la! I'm gonna shit so much later. Later cannot shit properly. But you know the fiber pills don't really work. You know what you do? You have to stick soap up your anus, then can shit properly.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Katherine:&lt;em&gt; Wha?!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weini:&lt;em&gt;Ya really la. Then you can shit easier coz it's slippery.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adrienne:&lt;em&gt; But the soap so big...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weini:&lt;em&gt; Not the whole thing LA! Just a small piece. Then stick it up your anus. WHY DON'T YA'LL BELIEVE MEEEE!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you know how noisy she gets. Embarrassingggg to sit beside her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lthena did or said something to Weini,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weini:&lt;em&gt; WALAU! Next time I get pregnant, you stay away from me. Don't know what you'll do. LATER MY BABY DROP OUT AH!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weini is so funny with her... wet dreams and shitting and hicupping while burping in class. Oh man. And she kept putting food on my plate, irritating shiz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Weini places a pieces of beef on Lthena, Annabel, Shu Ting and Nart's frying thing*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lthena:&lt;em&gt; Eh, you bitch. What you doing.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weini: &lt;em&gt;No, I'm giving the beef that Nat likes to eat. You like to eat right? Nat!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nat:&lt;em&gt;Ahh? Nola! What talking you. Bullshit.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Natashia's $2 worth of coins got stuck in the stupid Tofu Man machine coz Nat and Weini were too fucking retarded to stop acting childish. So some of them had to go down to the management to get their money back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Adrienne, Weini and Katherine are on the other side of the railing across from Lthena and I. They act fierce and give us stares*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lthena:&lt;em&gt; Actioning only! Eh, Jo. What gang are we from?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:&lt;em&gt;*giving them an ah lian pose* Huhh? Oh. Must act tough ah? HAHAHAHAHAHA. Right. Whoops.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was by far the highlight of the past 2 weeks. Finally got to let loose. But back to studying tomorrow. Til then, I'm all free tonight and I'm gonna read til I fall asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Darren's place tomorrow to hang. ALRIGHT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized the &lt;em&gt;ex&lt;/em&gt;-anniversary was 5 days ago. Hahaha. Imagining myself before, I was a really different person from now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How we grow out of ourselves to be someone different and yet still be somewhat the same...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112738783563560166?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112738783563560166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112738783563560166' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112738783563560166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112738783563560166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/09/this-morning-was-very-hellish.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112731341199146781</id><published>2005-09-21T22:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-21T22:49:26.796+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I've been having really freaky dreams for quite some time now. And all of which just do no make sense at all. Last night I watched myself die a very horrible death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It involved me showering with hot acid water and red, red blotchy marks on my back. I swear I could feel my back burn in my sleep... although I thought it was really burning in my dream. That can't be good can it? Being able to feel what you dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's this stupid ant that keeps walking around my monitor but I can't be bothered to swipe at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And OH GOD, Tess Gerritsen has done it again. I &lt;em&gt;cannot&lt;/em&gt; put down the damn book! I had to be forced out of Starbucks by Deborah so I could go for tuition. Hahaha. Starbucks is &lt;em&gt;the&lt;/em&gt; coolest place to read a book. To hell with my bed, I'm going to Starbucks after O's for some serious reading and a nice hot cocoa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuition was a very boring affair coz nobody was there to entertain me. Dominic was making soooo much noise I felt like throwing my E math book at him. Across the two tables and right smack on his temple. I'll be like that psychotic fourteen year old guy in the book who shot his classmates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of the book, the illustrator had chosen a very wierd cover page for the book. It's a picture of a naked woman with her back towards the reader and with her right arm held up at an angle. I bet people thought I was reading a porn novel or something. But I bet no pornography book like mine can use the words "neuromuscular paralysis" and "gentamicin" in a sentence. I love this porno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and about the A math prelim this morning... I had a very bad stomach ache in the middle of it. It was so bad that I contemplated on going to the toilet. But I held it in til after the exam. Mann, I knew I shouldn't have eaten before the damn exam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And earlier on, before my stomach ache I blanked out and I sorta panicked. So I did what I would normally do at home if I'm worried or panicky or just blame don't-know-what-to-do state; I started cleaning. And since I only had a limited amount of space, the only thing I could clean was my desk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the middle of the A math exam, I started placing all my pens and pencil and rulers neatly on my desk. I wiped away all the eraser shavings off and I gathered my worksheets into a neat pile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then when there was nothing else to clear, I stared at my paper. Ehehh. It would've been funny if I had actually &lt;strong&gt;finished&lt;/strong&gt; everything before clearing up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I managed to snap out of my Bree-from-Desperate-Housewives state and continued on with my work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At last, I had the time to dance in my kitchen. Haha. It's been so long since I last did that. So I went in the kitchen with only one mission in mind, TO DANCE. I swear, my kitchen's the nicest dance floor I could ever have. And I had KC as an audience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow's the last Pelim paper and I will &lt;em&gt;vibrate in my seat&lt;/em&gt; after the teacher tells us to put our pens down. *Haha to Sheryl and her vibration during History* So if my mood suits me, I'll either be having a really good time or a really good time or a really good time tomorrow! I can't wait to have one of them. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;And one of the first things I'll do after O's is Parkour til the break of dawn! Man, I miss PK and I bet PK misses me. I'll PK and PK and PK until I get over my stupid fear of vaulting over such low railings. Haha. Alright!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Katherine will be there to teach me and Nart to roll properly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;you don't have to move, you don't have to speak&lt;br /&gt;lips for biting.&lt;br /&gt;you're staring me down, a glance makes me weak&lt;br /&gt;eyes for striking&lt;br /&gt;now im twisting up when i'm twisted with you&lt;br /&gt;brush so lightly&lt;br /&gt;and time trickles down, and i'm breathing for two&lt;br /&gt;squeeze so tightly.&lt;br /&gt;i'll be fine, you'll be fine.&lt;br /&gt;this moment seems so long&lt;br /&gt;don't waste now, precious time&lt;br /&gt;we'll dance inside the song&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Chorus]&lt;br /&gt;what makes the one to shake you down?&lt;br /&gt;each touch belongs to each new sound&lt;br /&gt;say now you want to shake me too&lt;br /&gt;move down to me, slip into you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she sinks in my mind as she sheds through her skin&lt;br /&gt;touch like taste like fire&lt;br /&gt;hands to know what eyes no longer defend&lt;br /&gt;hands to fuel desire&lt;br /&gt;i'll be fine, you'll be fine&lt;br /&gt;this moment seems so long&lt;br /&gt;don't waste now, precious time&lt;br /&gt;we'll dance inside the song&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Chorus]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ooo, ah&lt;br /&gt;Ooo, ah&lt;br /&gt;Ooo, ah&lt;br /&gt;Ooo, ah [x2]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i'll be fine, you'll be fine&lt;br /&gt;is this fine? i'm not fine&lt;br /&gt;give me pieces, give me things to stay awake (stay awake)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Chorus x2]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I couldn't keep the bitterness from my voice. But I'm not at all sorry for showing how much it hurt. To you, to you and to her. And maybe to him too...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112731341199146781?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112731341199146781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112731341199146781' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112731341199146781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112731341199146781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/09/ive-been-having-really-freaky-dreams.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112722269892517480</id><published>2005-09-20T20:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-20T21:35:33.276+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ann Marie kept "shooting" me during tuition today. So I poked her "fats".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister was a very hyper kid today. My mum came in a taxi to pick me up and drop Jason off. The moment I climbed in the backseat, I knew she was high. She kept giggling and giggling and giggling and giggling and giggling. I was just staring at her. Then she startedtalkingreallyfastinthisreallyirritatingincessantchatterthatwentonandonandon. Til we reached Parkway.&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;Can you just &lt;em&gt;imagine&lt;/em&gt; the torture I had to endure?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jennifer: *points at mum*&lt;em&gt; you're my precious mummy!&lt;/em&gt; *points at me* &lt;em&gt;you're ate (sister) Kikay! Nonono&lt;/em&gt; *giggles*&lt;em&gt;, YOU are my precious mummy&lt;/em&gt; *points at me* &lt;em&gt;and YOU are ate Kikay!&lt;/em&gt; *points at mum*&lt;em&gt; CAN I HAVE A PARROT MAMA?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister is too random for words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while we were eating dinner at Banquet she was irritating the shit out of me coz of her ice-eating and laughing and chattering and pushing and giggling and singing and JUST EVERYTHING a mischievious 5 year old can accomplish during that short period of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just came to a point where I decided to ignore her. She would talk and talk and laugh and push me and I'd just nod my head and walk on. Grrrr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before getting Jason from tuition, we stopped by MPH and oh god, I couldn't help myself. I just &lt;em&gt;had&lt;/em&gt; to buy books. I've been so deprived of such luxury for far too long. And besides, Prelims are (&lt;small&gt;almost&lt;/small&gt;) over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I bought 3 books, and even though I already read &lt;em&gt;Memoirs of a Geisha&lt;/em&gt;, I had to buy it coz I love that book so much and I don't want to be borrowing the book from Natashia and what'll happen when we leave for NJ next year?! So that's my defense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I bought 2 Tess Gerritsen books. That was all, I swear. OK, maybe a magazine... Or two... OK, maybe just 3. And that was all! Really... Nomore books. Until Daddy comes back! Then I can go book shopping with him again at Kunikunya!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's why I love book shopping with my parents. Coz they can pay for me. I'm not about to dish out 20 bucks for a book, I'd rather they do that. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was an accident on the road near Siglap just now. I think the taxi wanted to turn into Esso or something then the driver didn't see a motorcyclist cycling(?!) in the opposite direction in the lane next to him (OK, hold on. A motorcylist drives the motorcycle? OK, I shall say the motor&lt;strong&gt;biker&lt;/strong&gt; was... biking... which is just as bad as cycling. AGH!). OK, so anyway. The taxi collided into the bike and... you get the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother asked me a really dumb question while we were going into the lifts while I was dying from carrying the sleeping Jennifer and having her press against my bladder... So obviously I snapped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason:&lt;em&gt; Did the guy in the motorbike die?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;em&gt;HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason: &lt;em&gt;Oh ya. OK OK, nevermind. It's ok.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's ok?! What the hell. My siblings are in a very mad state today...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112722269892517480?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112722269892517480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112722269892517480' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112722269892517480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112722269892517480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/09/ann-marie-kept-shooting-me-during.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15819057.post-112720228054176908</id><published>2005-09-20T15:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-20T15:44:40.543+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I got crazy and changed my layout at 7 in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So while eeee'erybody was bleeding over their Mother Tongue Pelims, I was fooling around with my settings. And it took me &lt;em&gt;this&lt;/em&gt; long to get it close enough to perfection. OK, now off to tuition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm ready to kick some trigonometrical asses!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Where you're hiding, the shine off the wall.&lt;br /&gt;Stop giving it up now cause you're gonna find yourself a mastermind in time.&lt;br /&gt;Rockstar, what's mine is yours.&lt;br /&gt;Rockstar, you're looking good.&lt;br /&gt;You're looking to find a fight.&lt;br /&gt;I'm the stranger here you know.&lt;br /&gt;Can't you understand that things always work out my way today.&lt;br /&gt;Rockstar, what's mine is yours.&lt;br /&gt;Rockstar, you're looking good.&lt;br /&gt;You're looking to find a fight.&lt;br /&gt;Rockstar. Rockstar.&lt;br /&gt;Get off my battlefield.&lt;br /&gt;You could not take it back from me.&lt;br /&gt;It's all the way up top.&lt;br /&gt;Cannot take a longer way.&lt;br /&gt;Get off my battlefield.&lt;br /&gt;Could not take it back from you.&lt;br /&gt;It's all the way up top.&lt;br /&gt;Cannot take a longer way.&lt;br /&gt;That's all.&lt;br /&gt;It's all.&lt;br /&gt;Can't fall Away.&lt;br /&gt;Back.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15819057-112720228054176908?l=myonebiglie-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/feeds/112720228054176908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15819057&amp;postID=112720228054176908' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112720228054176908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15819057/posts/default/112720228054176908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myonebiglie-.blogspot.com/2005/09/i-got-crazy-and-changed-my-layout-at-7.html' title=''/><author><name>"nart"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07048455604787719987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
