<?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-16332751</id><updated>2011-04-21T18:15:19.697-07:00</updated><title type='text'>in your honour.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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>102</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16332751.post-115878923407918924</id><published>2006-09-20T14:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T14:53:54.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm baaaaack.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-115878923407918924?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/115878923407918924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=115878923407918924' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/115878923407918924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/115878923407918924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/09/im-baaaaack.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-115100961556888716</id><published>2006-06-22T13:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-06T15:02:48.860-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;the whistle song.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt; So PMS is a bitch. I hate how I become a sobbing mess when it hits me. First it was because I missed you. Then it was the godawful bitching/guilt trip. And again later it was the bitching. So it's Friday, finally. My boss is gonna be back soon and I have no work to show for the past week. Lovely. That's all for today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-115100961556888716?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/115100961556888716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=115100961556888716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/115100961556888716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/115100961556888716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/06/whistle-song.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-115084224188917861</id><published>2006-06-20T14:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-20T15:24:06.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;days go by. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt; I'm bored. Again. Don't buy Marie Claire, by the way. I paid $3.50 for nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;******&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1)How old do you wish you were?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is such a stupid question, it's not even funny. Of course I wish I were 21. Have you no idea how alcohol-deprived I am?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2) Where were you when 9/11 happened?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Singapore. I don't remember what I was doing though. It seems like such a long time ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3) What do you do when vending machines steal your money?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kick it till the fucking machine gives me my stuff or my money back. No, I do not have anger issues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4) Do you consider yourself kind?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm probably more of a pushover than kind. Like there are ALWAYS people coming up to me saying they needmoney to feed their kids or they need gas to get back home to freakin Daly City (what the fuck are they doing in santa clara?) and I give them money. And since I usually don't have much change, it's always a five or a ten dollar bill. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5) If you had to get a tattoo, where would it be?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either on one of my shoulder blades, the inside of my wrist or somewhere near my hip bone(??). I kind of really want one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6) If u can be fluent in any other language, which will it be?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spanish. It makes sense here. Or like something European like French, Italian or Russian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7) Do you know your neighbors?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think they moved out right after we moved in. I'm glad. Their 3yr old annoyed me A LOT. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8) What do you consider a vacation?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going somewhere for more than 4days, kind of far from home, getting there and not having to work. I haven't been on one in forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;9) Do you follow your horoscope?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10) Would you move for the person you loved?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. I've moved enough. But it kind of depends where and how attached I am to the place I'd be leaving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;11) Are you touchy feely?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes. A lot when I'm drunk/happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;12) Do you believe that opposites attract?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;13) Dream job?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Travel Journalist. Are there such things? I would love to travel, all expenses paid, and earn money for it. That would be so awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;14) Favorite channel(s)?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't watch much TV anymore. I hear gasps of horror. But sometimes MTV and VH1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;15) Favorite place to go on weekends?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pool or J's place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;16) Showers or Baths?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Showers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;17) Do you paint your nails?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;18) Do you trust people easily?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kind of. I know when not to trust them most of the time, but I do anyways. That is not fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;19) What are your phobias?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Falling from a tall building, fire, needles, crazy birds. That last one I cannot stand. I was smoking with J once and this bird straight flew at me. The little fucker. It was like a dove or something. Aren't those ones supposed to be all sedated and shit? They're just as bad as pigeons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;20) Do you want kids?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep. Not anytime soon though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;21) Do you keep a handwritten journal?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was like 14. I was so emo. It's embarrassing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;22) Where would you rather be right now?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Singapore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;23) Who makes you feel warm and fuzzy?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt; _ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;24) Heavy or light sleeper?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I'm alone/tired/wasted, heavy. When I'm sleeping next to someone, light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;25) Are you paranoid?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;26) Are you impatient?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only sometimes. If I have to be somewhere, and I'm being delayed by someone, I will not be a very happy person. ESPECIALLY when I'm driving. My brother has seen me on many occassions cuss people out (under my breath, of course) when they take too long after the light's turned green. Don't block my way, mutherfuckers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;27) Who can you relate to?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm drawing a blank on this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;28) How do you feel about interracial couples?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm half of one so they're the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;29) Have you been burned by love?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kind of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;30) What's your favorite pick-up line?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't pick guys up. I just stalk them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;31) What's your main ring tone on your mobile?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This random Motorola ringtone that reminds me of The Strokes. But it's really annoying me now. Either that, or it's on vibrate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;32) What were you doing at midnight last night?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asleep. Mondays tire me out pretty quick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;33) What did the last text on your cellphone say?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anjali, are you awake?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;34) Whose bed did you sleep in last night?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;35) What color shirt are you wearing?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;36) Most recent movie you watched?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Running Scared. The one with Paul Walker. It was FANTASTIC. Started slow but the ending was so great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;37) Name three things you have on you at all times?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cellphone, car keys, wallet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;38.) What color are your bed sheets?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What color is cinammon?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;39) How much cash do you have on you right now?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;$5.oo plus alot of pennies and nickels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;40) What is your favorite part of the chicken?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably the breast or the leg. I hate chicken wings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;41) What's your favorite town/city?&lt;/strong&gt;Singapore counts as a city, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;42) I can't wait till:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-work ends.&lt;br /&gt;-school ends.&lt;br /&gt;-I can move out.&lt;br /&gt;-I have enough money to go back home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;43) Who got you to join liquidblade?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kurt Cobain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;44) What did you have for dinner last night?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, technically I don't think I had any dinner. But I ate a cheeseburger that kept me going till this morning. Ok, fine. It was two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;45) How tall are you barefoot?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;158cm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;47) Do you own a gun?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, because I love to shoot people that annoy me, ducks and pigeons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;48) What do you prefer to drink in the morning?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Milk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;49) What is your secret weapon to lure in the opposite sex?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The twins. Also, my amazing wit and fantastic conversational skills. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;56) Where do you think you'll be in 10 yrs?&lt;/strong&gt;Rich and on vacation every month. I hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;57) Last thing you ate?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Hershey's kiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;58) What songs do you sing in the shower?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't sing in the shower. I fight to stay awake around the time I take a shower. Why would you sing at 6:30 fuckin am?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;59) Last thing that made you laugh?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This story my brother tells me about his work. It involved a bunch of robbers, a store taken hostage and a dumbass security guard with a thick philipino accent. It cracks me up everytime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;60) Worst injury you've ever had?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never been injured bad enough to be sent to the hospital. I broke my arm once so I guess that would be it. I was 5 and my doctor gave me a hot pink cast. I was the coolest kid in the first grade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;61) Does someone have a crush on you?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know. I hope not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;62) What's your favorite candy?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MnM's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;63) What song do you want played at your funeral&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no clue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-115084224188917861?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/115084224188917861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=115084224188917861' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/115084224188917861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/115084224188917861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/06/days-go-by.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-115041239869800478</id><published>2006-06-15T14:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T15:59:58.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;the remedy. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;OMFG. I. Am. So. Fucking. Bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was wondering. The Dani's and the Holly's of the world are pretty lucky bitches. They got songs named after them and everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dani:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;With a name like Dani California&lt;br /&gt;Day was gonna come when I was gonna mourn&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Dani California, RHCP&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dani the girl&lt;br /&gt;is singing songs to me&lt;br /&gt;Beneath the marquee... overload&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- By The Way, RHCP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Blink 182 did Holly. They didn't &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;DO &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;her, they did her name. They probably did do her though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Holly's looking dry looking for an easy target.&lt;br /&gt;Let her slit my throat, give her ammo if she'll use it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Easy Target&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Use me Holly, come on and use me.&lt;br /&gt;We know where we go.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-All Of This&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where's my song, assholes??? Ok, so there's a song with Jelly in it, but Beyonce and the Extras did that song. I want a nicer song.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, that was a waste of a lot of words and effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;******&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Antonio, my neighbor at work, was looking at these pictures I had just got printed. He was laughing at how much I was smiling in them. He said I look like I'm upto no good. I cannot take serious pictures. I can't. If I try, I end up laughing. And looking pretty darn stupid. Some girls can do the whole tragic-fairy/im-sexy-and-sultry-come&amp;fuck-me looks. I can't. I can give you the cheesiest grin in the whole world though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-115041239869800478?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/115041239869800478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=115041239869800478' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/115041239869800478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/115041239869800478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/06/remedy.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-115032938266342987</id><published>2006-06-14T16:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-14T16:56:22.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;cruisin'. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt; My brother is one lucky bastard. His car is fuckin awesome. He's going to read this and be smug so Mit, you're car is making a funny noise. But damn, the sound system is really good and it runs so smooth. He fuckin goes 60 on El Camino. The little punk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/collage.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/collage.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You really have to not mind my nomakeup-windblown hair look in these. Also, I've horrified Nana by becoming one of &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;those &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/51.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/51.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know the type that wear their boyfriend's t-shirts and sweatshirts all the time? But this is only once Nana Samat! Please don't blacklist me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been such a receptionist today. I got my Cosmopolitan (the mag, I don't drink on the job. Wait! Scratch that. I do.) and my drink and my random celeb gossip websites up. Too bad no one got to see me like this though. I had like no customer today. Alright, time to go home and sleep. I'm out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-115032938266342987?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/115032938266342987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=115032938266342987' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/115032938266342987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/115032938266342987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/06/cruisin.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-115016111143033521</id><published>2006-06-12T17:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T18:11:59.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;birthday bash. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt; So this weekend my baby brother turned 18.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/DSCI0839.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/DSCI0839.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIT! This boy can finally stop bumming nicotine sticks from me and get his own. If he ever turns out to be a fine young gentleman, he has the 2 women in his life to thank. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/DSCI0831.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/DSCI0831.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier that Saturday there was birthday present shopping. As you can see, the S word makes me a very happy girl. I dragged J along and he looks, umm, pretty happy too. He wasn't bored at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/DSCI0826.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/DSCI0826.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since Armani Exchange here isn't really as good as back there, we gave up looking for the present. But no, I am not a bad sister. Here's what else he got for the big 18th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/DSCI0814.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/DSCI0814.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/DSCI0815.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/DSCI0815.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, your eyes are not failing on you. That's his new beemer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later on that night we used the late night movie alibi and went to this hookah lounge in downtown San Jose. It was a Saturday night so it was pretty crazy there. Think Muhamad Sultan but ten times crazier with cops and people EVERYWHERE. I went with my own personal security though so I was fine and well taken care of. hurhur.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/DSCI0829.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/DSCI0829.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But while looking for parking, I got kind of bored and tired so we headed back to J's house to chill. We drove through my neighbourhood so he got to see where I live and stuff. Around 330am me and Mit had The Car Exchange (insurance issues, he wasn't allowed to drive the beemer just then but being the wonderful sister that I am, I let him) and headed back home. I got home and fucking crashed. The next day I was so tired  but we had another dinner to do. That did not settle well with my stomach. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I was pretty fucking tired too. I just sat there in front of the computer reading blog archives and shit. Not the best day. Mondays suck donkey dick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-115016111143033521?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/115016111143033521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=115016111143033521' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/115016111143033521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/115016111143033521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/06/birthday-bash.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114982406230172563</id><published>2006-06-08T20:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-08T20:35:03.900-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;once again, fuck you. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt; Yeah that title meant something but that damn quiz thing was so long. First off, I present to you, The Top.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/DSCI0801.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/DSCI0801.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't it absolutely heavenly? Don't mind my chub, by the way. Back to The Top. The straps are SUEDE. Do you know how much I love SUEDE? It's the most ORGASMIC THING IN THE WHOLE WORLD. YOU SHOULD FEEL IT. haha And yes, that's how brown I've become. I love The Top. I can't wait till I actually wear it out though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;******&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a semblance of a shrine for my bitches. Pretty much all of you are in there. If you don't see you, then you will see you soon. I printed out too many pictures so I'm probably gonna keep changing them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/DSCI0797.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/DSCI0797.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have the movie stubs for Cold Mountain and Spiderman 2. The first date and The Assault Of Jelly By The Banana, respectively. Neoprints. Notes. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;******&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You. You used to mean alot to me. I would have done so much for you. I did do alot for you. I stood there and took all that shit you threw at me. And I fucking said thank you at the end of it.  Anyone else would have left. They would have said, "you know what? he's a nice guy but he's not worth it." That's what every one told me. But I fucking defended you the whole time. They would tell me, "Jelly he's an asshole. Look at what he's doing. You should walk away." And then I would say, "I can't. He's not a bad guy. At least he told me." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were so hypocritical and condescending. I see it now. It's a pity that it took what happened for me to see it. Your ego, wow. You probably thought that I was fucking in love with you and that it would crush me to see you go, it would crush me to let you go. It's funny though how you were the one to initiate, and you were the one to come crawling back. For all the wrong reasons though. I did let go and I moved on and I hoped that we could be friends. Because I cared about you then, I cared about you after you left too. I guess it was different for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your actions completely negate your words. I don't believe you anymore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You think you can rule the world. No, not mine.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114982406230172563?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114982406230172563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114982406230172563' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114982406230172563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114982406230172563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/06/once-again-fuck-you.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114980657792273887</id><published>2006-06-08T13:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-08T23:01:13.713-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;fuck you. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Please disregard the 3's. I will choose randomly, you lucky readers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 Schools I went to:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Apple Valley Christian. I was such a good kid those days. I'd do my homework and I'd learn stuff from the Bible and go to church and everything. I wonder what happened.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;PJC. That what happened. I met my bitches here. And I ate horried food here. But that's the one I miss. Everything minus Econs lectures. Sorry Madam Khoo, it had to be said.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Loreto Convent. Laugh it up. Most of my education has been at these. Here, the nuns running the school were Irish, and my Vice Principal looked EXACTLY like Mrs Doubtfire, I swear.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;3 things in my handbag:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tampons. Lots. Okay, a couple. You don't need to know this.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The usual shit. Car keys, cellphone, 4 lighters, pack of menthols, sunglasses, pay stubs, PHOTOS (I got a whole bunch printed yesterday :D) . What else, a whole bunch of receipts. Makeup. I've been told I need to clean my bag out because it has so much junk in it. It's like a bottomless pit of junk. If something goes in, you may never see it again. I'm serious.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;3 things I do when I am stressed:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I get pissy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I cry.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I sleep&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;3 Places I go on a daily basis:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;This one is hard. Like places places? The closest to everyday would be work.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;School. No wait. I'm lying. I show up for class twice a week on good weeks.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;J's place. Usually at least a couple of times a week. I probably spend more of my waking hours at his place than at home.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;3 Favorite fruits:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Apples&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bananas&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Watermelon&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;3 Names I go by:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Jelly&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Anjali&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Jello&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Jellybean&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mcbelly&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Angela (HAHA)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Angie&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;3 of my favorite foods:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;This is where you disregard the 3. First of all would be The Beef Noodles. I'm mentioning it first as a form of tribute (??) because it is no longer with us in this world. the gods have been cruel and taken away The Beef Noodles, they are making us go through life without it. My reason for living is gone.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;But my reason for living is back! In the form of Laksa from Sinaran and Far East.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Chicken Rice.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Nasi Lemak. The way I like it. With extra sambal, chicken nuggets instead of the wings and hold the fishies please.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Yoshinoya. Not here. It SUXORS here. It's fucking gross. Beef bowl, no veges. And the salmon. MISO SOUP. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Speaking of salmon, anything made by CHEF MING. The salad, pasta, salmon, BAKED- MAC AND CHEESE, all of it. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mom's cooking. When she does cook, it's pretty damn good.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I like Taco Bell alot. I think they're drive thru people recognize me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;In N Fucking Out Burger. The BEST cheeseburgers EVER. Just don't try eating three in a row. It's not fun.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sushi. Sashimi. Gyoza. It's all good.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ok I can't think of anymore.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;3 Things I'm wearing right now:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;White polo tee. For the prep in me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;mAh RoXxXYyY PaNtS`~~~XD hahaha.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My really cute white flip flops.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My black hoodie, because I don't have a white hoodie. I wear this hoodie so much, I'm probably gonna be buried in it. Ms B. Samat bought it for me. :D&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My silver ring. That's one thing that I almost never take off.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Who I'm thinking of right now:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;China Lek. I'm wondering if she fell asleep because she's very quiet on msn. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ria. Because I'm getting the question thingies from her blog.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;J.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Who did I last talk to on the phone: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;My brother. I told him to hurry his ass down the stairs because I do not like to wait. I had to drive him to work, you see. And since I was doing him a favour, I really shouldn't have to wait.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Who was the last person I uttered love to:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;How about typed? Ms B. Samat. Because I do love her sooooo.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;In words, my daddy. He called my office line. I didn't know he knew the number.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Who do I wish I was with right now:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Alot of people actually. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Who gets on my nerves most at school:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;OMG half of my english class. Why do they love grammar so much? Why do they stay in class long after the teacher says those 3 beautiful words- "You can go." Why? Why would they do something so incredibly blasphemous? STAY after she says GO? And why do they have to be such smart asses? Ok, so you've memorized the encyclopedia and every newspaper you've read everyday since you were 2, do I NEED to stuff my brother's dirty gym socks down your throat to make you shut up? DO THEY REALLY WANT ME TO DO THAT?? &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Where do I sleep:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;In the bathtub. It's pretty comfortable, you know. Cold, but comfortable. I sleep in my bed, STOOPID. With my cellphone on the night stand, and iPod in hand. That's never good though. I wake up in the middle of the night tangled up in the earphone wires.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Where is the last place I took a ride:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;To Burger King to get lunch. The chicken fries are gross. Don't try them.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;What's the last thing I ate: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Onion rings. Kiss me now. You know you want to. haha&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Who did I sit with in school:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Nor for Geog&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Khai, Shawn or Ray, my lovely boys, in GP&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Nana, Lydia, Lauren, Caine, Ria or Hidaya in Lit Lectures/ Econs Lectures&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I think Mazzy or Isrin or Shawn during Lit Tutorials&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Where is my phone:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;On the desk right next to me. It's positioned so I can see whoever is calling me without having to reach over and pick it up.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;What color shirt am I wearing now:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;White.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;What is the closest item to me that is white:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;BIC Wite-Out Brand. Cover-it. Multi Purpose/commercial pack/ Correction Fluid/Shake Well.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;What do I wear the most:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;A bra. No, that's a lie. Probably my ring. That thing hardly leaves my hand.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;What's the last movie I watched:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I don't remember. This thing is making me tired. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;When did I last go to the mall:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;A long long time ago. I don't like malls. I don't even remember.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;When I last burn something:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Well I burn things on a regular basis for my nicotine intake. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Everytime I try to cook I burn something. OH! Except that time I made J some toast! It didn't burn or smoke or catch fire or anything :D&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;FINALLY IT'S OVER.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114980657792273887?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114980657792273887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114980657792273887' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114980657792273887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114980657792273887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/06/fuck-you.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114953818645108141</id><published>2006-06-05T12:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T13:19:58.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;tanorexia. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;I have been really sad since yesterday. When I say sad, I mean, completely&amp;totally depressed sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have really bad tanlines. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I. do. not. like. them. And I have them. :( I fucking turn a gazillion shades darker after like 2 hours in the sun. I know people who sit their baking all fuckin day and they complain about how they have to go to the tanning salon the next day because the sun won't do it's job. Yes, the sole purpose of the sun is to tan people. Hopefully when I go to the pool next weekend there won't be too many kids and parents so I can adjust the strings, so I don't get hideous tanlines. I HATE TANLINES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so now that that's out of my system, I need to complain some more. It's monday. I hate monday. I was like dragged into class this morning because I didn't wanna go, even though I'd probably be dropped if I didn't show up. They should not have class on mondays. Especially when there are twats who show up like the guys in my english class. What total fuckheads. They don't shut up. Ok, so you're smart, you're an honours student, you jerk off to an encyclopedia, you worship the teacher, you dream in math equations, you love grammar; SHUT UP. Too early. 8am. monday. morning. cannot stand it. die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like parks. I usually like them best when there aren't a million kids running around and screaming everywhere. Yesterday was nice. Just the both of us. He was tired enough for me to have some fun without him stopping me. hurhur. He's the one that's tried to cut down on the nicotine with me (we both failed miserably at that). He drags me, literally, into class every monday and wednesday morning, which I'll grudgingly admit is for my own good. He let's me mess up/tie up his hair and doesn't fight the camera. AND, he has pretty eyes. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/collage1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/collage1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quote of the day: The kids can't see us from here, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114953818645108141?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114953818645108141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114953818645108141' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114953818645108141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114953818645108141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/06/tanorexia.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114928272733816100</id><published>2006-06-02T13:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T16:03:44.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;why can't i. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Well yesterday evening did not go as well as I thought it would. I blame one half of the parentals and an extremely sad movie, good movie, but sad. If I wasn't so annoyed/upset at other things, I would have bawled, and that my friends, would not have been pretty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Requiem for a Dream, starring Jared Leto (YAY), well you can't watch it wearing mascara. But it is very worth watching, unless you only watch movies with Hilary Fug starring in them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't do the whole guilt trip thing on me please? It makes me resent you, but not as much as I love you. So ultimately, it leaves me feeling like shit. You have no idea how much it gets to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Viagra commercial made me laugh yesterday. I thought they were selling like a TV or something. This one part of it the scientist/doctor guy was like, "If you experience an erection that lasts more than 4 hours, please seek medical attention immediately." I could not stop laughing at that. Apparently though, if that does happen, a dude's wang could fall off. This is what they tell the guys when we all have to go to separate rooms for The Sex Talks in school, according to J.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thank you, you. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three more hours to the weekend. I'm honestly not looking forward to it. My parents will be home both days which means that I will be held captive for 2 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kid Rock and Scott Stapp from Creed were in a sex tape together? Well not together together apparently (that would have been VERY interesting though, not to mention creepy), but they co starred in it. What is the world coming to? Pun not intended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE MORE HOURS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Second cute guy that's come in since I started my sentence at DE's 6 month ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114928272733816100?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114928272733816100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114928272733816100' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114928272733816100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114928272733816100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/06/why-cant-i.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114919386201487931</id><published>2006-06-01T12:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-01T13:32:38.433-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;pink is my favorite crayon. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Okay you knns. I have MAJOR CLARIFICATIONS to make.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The roxy pants. The Pants are not all girly and pink. They do not have the roxy logo assaulting innocent people. They do not have tassles or glitter or anything!! They're like olive green. That's a predictable me color, isn't it? ISN'T IT BANANA SAMAT? hehe. Are you even surprised it's that color?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the background. It was pretty, okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;******&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my boss just left a while ago. I fuckin hate my job. Nothing good has come out of it except some slightly impressive lines on my resume and money for bills. The only thing that gets me through these 6 hour shifts of torture is the idea of spending the rest of my evening with the boy.  5 0' clock should roll by faster.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114919386201487931?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114919386201487931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114919386201487931' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114919386201487931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114919386201487931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/06/pink-is-my-favorite-crayon.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114911325391526037</id><published>2006-05-31T15:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-31T15:07:33.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;R.I.P.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/wallpaper2_800.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/400/wallpaper2_800.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The original band is gone. Brownsound has left the building. Deryck is HOT. New album on the way though, I think. So YAY! But damn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS I heart deryck whibley.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114911325391526037?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114911325391526037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114911325391526037' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114911325391526037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114911325391526037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/05/r.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114911159974040271</id><published>2006-05-31T13:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T12:39:10.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;passenger seat. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So Memorial Day Weekend went by way too fast. People have asked me, 'in memory of what?' I have no fucking clue. Well the long weekend went by in a blur, spending time with people, by the pool and sleeping. I took Tuesday off work, something I should honestly do more often. It was the second time in my whole sentence at DE's that I've missed work. Yes, it's like a sentence, life sentence at that. My job blows. I'm pretty much over it but I don't have too many options right now so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School is not very fun either, right about now. Quarter's dragging to an end, and I barely remember opening a book. When I say dragging, I mean it quite literaly. I need to take as many classes as possible during summer quarter. The bitterness. I should be in Singapore, partying every night, but I'll be here in SC, doing the same thing I've been doing since January, working and studying. Oh Joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To F2:&lt;br /&gt;I hate it when you do that. I told you I felt like crap and I needed sleep and you cut me off and kept going on and on about something that may not be even be a problem. I will be there for you and support you in whatever happens but I cannot deal with that fucked up shit everyday. Does it really make you happy thinking of scenarios where a person, who you love by the way, will suffer and be miserable and be worried about your sorry ass? That is fucked up shit right there. And you ask me if you're bothering me, if I'm fed up of your shit; can that question really be answered honestly? I can't say that I am, because that's too harsh. It might make you threaten to do shit again and put me in a place I don't want to be, AGAIN. Kanina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so my complaining is done. Prepare yourselves for mush!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before the mush though, I must add, I got the most orgasmic pants the other day. They're, you're gonna laugh or wanna smack me when you hear this, Roxy capri pants. They fit PERFECT AND I LOVE THEM, SO THERE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, the mush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite the shit at work, school and home, I have one person that has been keeping me sane and happy. He humors my love for Deryck (who by the way is totally dumping me for Avril. wedding in june. stupid bitch). He makes me lazy, we can sit in front of the TV like all day, which is perfect for a lazy creature like me. He played Everlong for me on his guitar. He let's me make him toast, knowing very well how capable I am of setting the bread and his kitchen on fire. He makes me laugh. And he makes me smile. And he understands. It's all good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Then looking upwards, I strain my eyes and try to tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites from the passenger seat, as you are driving me home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do they collide?" I ask, and you smile. With my feet on the dash, the world doesn't matter.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114911159974040271?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114911159974040271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114911159974040271' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114911159974040271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114911159974040271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/05/passenger-seat.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114807369922319656</id><published>2006-05-19T13:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-19T14:23:14.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;lazyhazy days. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm wondering if it's like a public holiday or something today. There is like no one at work on my side of the building. It's such a lazy, hazy day today. The type that makes you wanna lie by the pool and sleep. Or lie in front of the tv and sleep. Or lie in bed and sleep. You get my drift. It's a day to sleep my friends. And I am at work. Doing nothing when I should be working my ass off. Let's all pray I still have my job around this time next week. Isn't life fantastic?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday is Ria's sister's indian/malay hybrid wedding! Well first off, congratulations to her sister. And hats off to Maria for dealing with The Relatives. I can only imagine the patience she must have, listening to them and not wanting to smack them with random objects like brenda&amp;alicia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss our lazyhazy days. Sitting at the concourse trying to study, but ending up bitching about randoms. Playing at the swings in Teckwhye after chickenrice&amp;amp;bandung, taking drags of texas5. Walking around town, broke, but looking absolutely fabulous. Sitting at McCafe/Starbucks with a pack of cigarettes and a drink. Lazing around in the canteen during breaks, the usual ghoststory/bitching/cry/boy ogling sessions. Sitting outside Woodlands with food (we heart yoshinoya) and cigarettes during our study breaks, like the poor struggling college students we were. Walking to McD's to get some food and smokes before another couple of hours of class. I miss them. It seems like forever ago. Pretty soon, in another 3 months, it's going to be a year since I've been gone. Time fucking flies by so fast. Blink, and you miss everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and J were watching VH1's Hottest Rockstar Girlfriends and Wives yesterday and fucking Tommy Lee has been with like every other woman on that show. Guess who was number one though. Yup. Pam Anderson. Kind of expected, that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna get smacked for saying this but I still miss him sometimes. Like someone once told me, it's like "losing a limb, you don't bleed to death but it hurts, and eventually you learn to live without it." I know it wasn't that long, but it was a particularly trying time. I hate these in between parts. We were kind of together but we were kind of not together. He became a huge part of my life, but he never had the ability to be a part of it at the same time. We've said goodbye, but he's still there. Everytime I see him, it's like I'm saying goodbye to him all over again. That's by choice though, me treating every time I see him as if it were the last, because I don't know which one will be the final one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114807369922319656?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114807369922319656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114807369922319656' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114807369922319656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114807369922319656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/05/lazyhazy-days.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114781936055516570</id><published>2006-05-16T15:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-16T15:42:48.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;you say, you want..&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; It's all been done. I can honestly say I have been happy for the past week or so, with the exception of moments I spend with &lt;em&gt;him&lt;/em&gt;. Because all they are, are goodbyes. I'm bad at goodbyes. I thought I'd be okay with this one but I guess I wasn't. Aren't they the worse though? To not know when you're going to see that person again. To remember. To miss. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Memory is the sense of loss, and loss pulls us after it. There is so little to remember of anyone- an anecdote, a conversation at the table. But every memory is turned over and over again, every word, however chance, written in the heart in the hope that memory will fulfill itself, and become flesh, and that the wanderers will find a way home, and the perished, whose lack we always feel, will step through the door finally and stroke our hair with dreaming, habitual fondness, not having meant to keep us waiting long.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- "Housekeeping" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114781936055516570?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114781936055516570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114781936055516570' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114781936055516570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114781936055516570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/05/you-say-you-want.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114739175398120641</id><published>2006-05-11T15:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-11T17:02:05.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;megalomaniac.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I have attempted to type out this entry like 5 times already. There better not be a 6th attempt or I'll delete this blog. No I won't. Anyways, so much shit has gone down this past couple of weeks. So here are the highlights, some good and some not too great. Point form again. Names have been changed to protect the identity (and dignity in some cases) of those involved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;strong&gt;The Arrival and Departure of Norman Bates.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He left as soon as he appeared. This lasted about, let's say, 3 weeks. It was 3 weeks too long in my opinion. You know how there are some people, you get all excited about them and in the end they tend to disappoint? He's one of them. He didn't disappoint per se, but he could have done way better. Done better in what, you ask? You don't wanna know. Trust me on this one. I guess he was bad news from the start so I lost nothing. I wasn't even sad to see him go because I honestly didn't give a fuck about him. I was actually relieved. He's been sending me messages through my neighbor and shit. Very persistent. But bad news so no thank you, Mr Bates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;strong&gt;My Dad's home.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This I guess is a good thing. I'm still adjusting to having 2 parents. Ok, that makes me sound like I spent years without him but now I have double supervision so that blows bigtime. But we'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;strong&gt;F2&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, F4 did not half themselves, move those sharp objects away from your wrists. This is F version 2.0. Don't ask me what that stands for. Don't tell you. Well again, I'm sure everyone has met this type of person. The type that brings nothing but DRAMA into your life. When things suddenly look up for you, all of a sudden there is crisis after fuckin crisis in their life and they need you to be at their disposal 24/7, until the good thing/person in your life is very annoyed and very gone. After that of course they just go back to normal. I have that type. It may be a coincidence, but I'm a bitch so I'll say it's being done on purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Example time. I should use those more in my english essays but oh well. So your spending time with said good thing/person, and all of a sudden, like it was scripted because F2 always knows where you are (she is EVERYWHERE), you get a phonecall. You debate in your head if you want to answer that potential insanity-inducing call. You say, 'Ok, I will be a good person today,' so you answer. And then you want to smack yourself. The call goes on and on until you have to fake an excuse to get off the phone and spend more time with said good thing/person. But by then, everyone's mood is totaled. Lovely way to end an evening. The worse part is that F2 is actually a good person so you feel guilty about ditching them. But they are recommended in small doses. And whatever you do, do not, I repeat, do not give them your cell number. You WILL regret it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;strong&gt;The Appearance of That Guy.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That Guy has been a good thing for me so far. TG, is someone I have trusted immediately, I felt comfortable with immediately. We, I think have the potential for a really good friendship. I don't wanna fuck with that. TG makes me laugh and forget, and for that I am grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;strong&gt;The Impending Departure of The Backrub Guru.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This will take place tomorrow. I'm not looking forward to it. Because I will miss the backrubs and I will miss the Guru. Alot. It's hard to remember how things were before TBG walked into my life one fine day. I was quite frankly, plain miserable. And TBG gave me something to be happy about. He gave me something, but even then it wasn't enough. We both knew how it would be. I had just began to accept that fact when he was forced to take his backrub magic elsewhere. The thing is that with some people, you kind of know when they say goodbye and leave you behind, you'll never see them again, despite the keep-in-touch and I-won't-be-far bullshit. When he told me, at first it was shock and sadness. Because you see, I'm a clinger. I cling to good things that come to me because I'm afraid it'll never happen again. Lately however it's been denial. And now that it boils down to TBG's last day, I don't know what to feel. TBG tells me that people come into your life for a reason, and when they've done what they had to do, they leave because their purpose for being there, it's done and your forced to let go. I know that's true in his case, but I don't think I'm ready to let go yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to say except that I'll miss him. He was the first good thing to happen to me in this strange, lonely city.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;******&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;So why do you leave these questions unanswered?&lt;br /&gt;The circus awaits and you're already gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What did I do that you can't seem to want me?&lt;br /&gt;Why do we lie here and whisper goodbyes?&lt;br /&gt;Where can I go that your pictures won't haunt me?&lt;br /&gt;What makes it so easy for you to be walking by?&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/16332751-114739175398120641?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114739175398120641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114739175398120641' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114739175398120641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114739175398120641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/05/megalomaniac.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114556479354435278</id><published>2006-04-20T13:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T13:26:33.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;have heart, my dear.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; I'm back. LA was fab. No rain which was great. &lt;a href="http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=1EcMnLNmxYudA"&gt;CLICK HERE&lt;/a&gt; for pics. Saturday night we went around the city. The best part would have been when we were driving around and we decided to take this random dark road. It went up this hill and had the most amazing houses. They looked like they were regular, kind of small one storey places, but they were actually 3 or 4 storey places that would cut down into the edge of the hill. And the number of BMW's we saw. My god. They were parked outside every freakin house. We saw one toyota on the whole hill. We were looking for a celeb's house but we couldn't find any. Bummer. Here's the view from the top.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/untitled.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/untitled.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That bright row of lights along the center-left is sunset strip where all the clubs are. It was amazing from up there. We even saw a hooker. And Pauly Shore's comedy club too. On Saturday I went to a hookah lounge as well. Good shit, that stuff. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if the whole birkenstock craze is still alive in Singapore but, I have something that beats birkentsocks by a long shot. I have a freakin birken-tan on my feet. Very glam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apart from that, it's the usual. School, work, blah blah blah. For my PoliSci class we have this presentation and I have to argue how the Iraq war was justified. In Song's words, you can flame me now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114556479354435278?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114556479354435278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114556479354435278' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114556479354435278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114556479354435278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/04/have-heart-my-dear.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114496826215091638</id><published>2006-04-13T14:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T15:44:22.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;hot damn.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It's 70 freakin degress outside right now. AND IM NOT DRESSED FOR IT. Damn. It's about fucking time we got some sun. It hasn't been this warm for at least a month. I'm loving it. I have a theory as to why it's so nice out today. I think it's the big guy's way of rewarding the giver of my back massage from yesterday. They had a deal for sun on Tuesday apparently but the said person did a pretty good job, hence the reward. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got VS stuff in colors that Xiayan would love. VS=love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LA this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114496826215091638?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114496826215091638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114496826215091638' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114496826215091638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114496826215091638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/04/hot-damn.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114445422780641189</id><published>2006-04-07T16:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-07T16:58:31.823-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;when you come back to me.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; The mayhem will commence in less than 72 hours. Third quarter people. It's been a while hasn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Random:&lt;br /&gt;- Jake Gylenhall (how the fuck do you spell that last name?) is the prettiest boy in the world. I saw Jarhead and Brokeback Mountain this week. He defines beauty. And hot body. BM was damn sad. Jarhead was funny. I heart Jake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- WWW.TUCKERMAX.COM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I shall have to prepare myself to spend a jazillion dollars on textbooks next week. Oh joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- When will it stop raining? It's been WEEKS already. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Reality Bites is a good movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I need to catch up on The Real World and 8th&amp;Ocean this weekend. Also hang out with Camille and maybe Kristi. And store up on sleep so I don't feel like shit next week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Vanilla fudge brownie awaits me at home along with an hour of the Glimore Girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Since I'm pretty much giving up on the hope of having a bowl of laksa appear from nowhere, I'm thinking some OJ and holywater sounds good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I hope you are/will be alright. I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114445422780641189?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114445422780641189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114445422780641189' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114445422780641189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114445422780641189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/04/when-you-come-back-to-me.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114376476885865315</id><published>2006-03-30T16:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-30T16:36:45.716-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;we all fall down.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Finals are finally OVER. Spring Break. Woohoo. Do you feel my excitement? If you do, get your head checked. I have work from like 8ish am nowdays. I must say I hate my job. When I said I loved it, I lied. So yesterday after the english final, Camille, Diana and I stood outside the bookstore to sell back the brick book and OMFG it was fucking freezing. We got 20 bucks for the half hour wait. When I got to my car I had to take of my shoes and socks and stick em in front of the heater. Very glam. Anyways, I have been told if I don't get an A for the final, I will be 'punished'. Ahem, ahem. And if I do, I will be rewarded, it's a surprise. hehe. Can't wait to see what happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone I know is going through Rooster type trauma right now. That blows doesn't it? Yesterday I let PMS get the better of me and I questioned this semi-existent association I have. And I wondered and I wondered, and I couldn't come up with any answers. Heck, I could hardly come up with any questions to answer in the first place. Give it to me straight or don't get me involved at all please?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You make me wanna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Step by step, heart to heart, left right left, &lt;br /&gt;We all fall down like toy soldiers. &lt;br /&gt;Bit by bit, torn apart, we never win, &lt;br /&gt;But the battle wages on for toy soldiers. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114376476885865315?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114376476885865315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114376476885865315' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114376476885865315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114376476885865315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/03/we-all-fall-down.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114360376794913729</id><published>2006-03-28T19:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-28T19:42:47.963-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;closer.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; The last final is tomorrow. It's kind of sad, just kinda, because the people I hang out with in that english class were the same people from my first quarter. Therefore my first friends at Foothill. I realize I owe pictures of campus. Soon. Next quarter. Ok then, I have pretty much nothing else to report.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EXCEPT!!! Don't watch the movie Derailed unless you are very in love with Jennifer Aniston or CLIVE OWEN, or Xzibit if he's your type. The movie was not that impressive, the plot and acting and stuff. The only reason I watched it was because CLIVE OWEN HAS THE SEXIEST VOICE IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE FREAKIN UNIVERSE. Especially when he cusses, and seeing that I got the uncut/unbleeped version of the movie, I LOVED IT. It almost beat alot of stuff, stuff that I will not mention. I swear his voice is like.. so INCREDIBLY HOT. See if they used him in the phone sex chat ad thingies, it would become an industry on its own and the vibrator would be obsolete. Ok, I didn't just type that out. Well I did but you get my drift. Alright then, I'm out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why did you swear eternal love when all you wanted was excitement? Love bores you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, it disappoints me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114360376794913729?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114360376794913729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114360376794913729' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114360376794913729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114360376794913729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/03/closer.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114349521407504721</id><published>2006-03-27T13:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-27T13:33:47.790-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;playground love.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So I have very bad sense of time. Well global time at least. Now I know my recent entries have been slightly, yes only slightly emo. But today that changes. Why? Because today is a very important day. Today, one third of what I call my best friends, turns 20.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Incriminating picture time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/fleaface.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/400/fleaface.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah so I BORROWED the pic from her blog but at work no pics. Anyways, back to the point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;HAPPY&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;BIRTHDAY&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;TO&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;MY&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;FAVOURITE&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;CHINA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;LIAN!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lek, I love you times a gazillion. I hope you have the best birthday EVER. It is a special one this year after all. Thank you for everything, and I mean &lt;strong&gt;everything&lt;/strong&gt;. Here's to one of the most amazing people I know, love and miss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114349521407504721?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114349521407504721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114349521407504721' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114349521407504721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114349521407504721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/03/playground-love.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114316619808707547</id><published>2006-03-23T18:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-23T18:09:58.100-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;hands clean.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Ok so bad night. At least it's over. I have a knn essay due tomorrow. Well the draft, the actual thing is due next monday. I haven't even read the book that we have to write about. It's a little TGOST-ish which is actually fine to read but identifying the bloody themes is such a chore. I think me and a couple of people are going to use our last draft and pretend it's for this essay. And yes, if you're wondering, there is no point to what I'm saying. This time next week though, I will officially be on Spring Break. Yup, that's the one. With all the people grinding on MTV in their swimwear. But I will not be in Cancun, I will be in SC working every day. Oh Joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it weren't for your maturity none of this would have happened.&lt;br /&gt;If you weren't so wise beyond your years I would've been able to control myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This could be messy, &lt;br /&gt;but you don't seem to mind. &lt;br /&gt;Don't go telling everybody, &lt;br /&gt;and overlook this supposed crime. &lt;br /&gt;We'll fast forward to a few years later,&lt;br /&gt;And no one knows except the both of us.&lt;br /&gt;And I have honored your request for silence. &lt;br /&gt;And you've washed your hands clean of this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114316619808707547?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114316619808707547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114316619808707547' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114316619808707547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114316619808707547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/03/hands-clean.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114307100815323422</id><published>2006-03-22T15:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-22T17:04:01.150-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;like violence you have me, forever and after.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The fucking irony of it all. I broke my own rule. #2 was the most important too. Bloody hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The internet connection at work is being a cheebye. I can't be connected longer than like 10 minutes at a time. Oh well, more reason for me not to be able to do much work. Sneaky sneaky me, I know. So sue me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really have much to say right now except that the book we're reading for english1B called 'Housekeeping' is really sad. I can't say I've read the whole thing even though I should be done with it by now, but the parts that I did read, the random paragraphs, they are so amazingly beautiful and accurate that it should be illegal to write that well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fate fell short this time&lt;br /&gt;Your smile fades in the summer&lt;br /&gt;Place your hand in mine&lt;br /&gt;I'll leave when I wanna&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Till next time bitches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114307100815323422?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114307100815323422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114307100815323422' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114307100815323422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114307100815323422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/03/like-violence-you-have-me-forever-and.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114256325972224141</id><published>2006-03-16T18:39:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-18T15:33:43.920-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;the reason why.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I will head out alone, hope for the best.&lt;br /&gt;And we hang our heads down,&lt;br /&gt;as we skip the goodbyes.&lt;br /&gt;And you can tell the world what you want them to hear.&lt;br /&gt;I've got nothing left to lose, my dear.&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm up for the little white lies,&lt;br /&gt;but you and I know the reason why,&lt;br /&gt;I'm gone, and you're still there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114256325972224141?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114256325972224141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114256325972224141' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114256325972224141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114256325972224141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/03/reason-why_114256325972224141.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114255446886232662</id><published>2006-03-16T15:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-22T15:44:05.716-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;there's got to be something better than in the middle.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So this week is coming in a close second to last week in the worst week ever category. I am so unbelievably absofuckinglutely beat. I drag myself around from when the alarm goes off at 4freakin30am. Work, in Nana's words, sucks donkey dick. Finals next week and then I'm off for a week during which I have to work. This SUXORS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have another hour here and then I will drive home and crash into bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a bone to pick with Foothill. See now the thing is I love it, like most of it. One thing I do not however appreciate is THE GODDAMN FREAKIN MT EVEREST SIZED HILL that we have to climb from parking lot 1 (or is it 2?). OMFG. To give them credit they have steps and a pretty alright slope but bloody hell by the time you get to the top you need to stop for 5 hours and catch your breath. And after you finally catch you breath, you need to trudge across campus to class. If your lucky, it's nearby. If your not, you tend to make very unglam entrances in class. I never need to go to the gym ever again while I'm at Foothill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know the DMB song 'Crash Into Me'? Well it is very deceiving. It really is. It sounds like it's a song about love and butteflies and rainbows and candysticks. It is not. It is a song that asks a girl to, I quote, "hike up your skirt a little more and show the world to me." Dave Mathews being a little pervy, is he? But to give him credit, he has come up with some really pretty lines. Like "sweet like candy to my soul, sweet you rock and sweet you roll" (credit given to lauren for bringing it to my attention) and there's one of my favorite songs, American Baby. Ambivalence at it's best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***** &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I said I'd do this, I will. ISRIN here you go. hehe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Rules:The victim has to come up with 8 different points of their perfect lover. Need to mention the sex of the lover. &lt;br /&gt;Replies can be given in any way. If tagged the second time, there is no need to post again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sex of the lover: Female... I'm serious. No I'm not. Male.  &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) &lt;strong&gt;He can't be boring.&lt;/strong&gt; This one is such a must. There are so many hot guys but half of them cannot for the life of them carry a conversation. Major turn off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) &lt;strong&gt;He can't want to have his cake and the brownies too.&lt;/strong&gt; The only person whose going to understand that is Ria probably. Let me enlighten you on this. In one line, he can't be an asshole. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) This thing is kind of hard. No that's not point number 3. Point number 3 is, &lt;strong&gt;He needs to be attractive.&lt;/strong&gt; Call me shallow but if he's not, and we have a connection and chemistry and can talk for hours and shit like that, he might as well join the guy friend category. It is a prestigious group to be in honestly. I mean, seriously, what's the point of a lover (that's kind of a weird word here for some reason)if you're not attracted to him. Am I right? Of course I'm right. If you disagree, then screw you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) &lt;strong&gt;He MUST have good hygiene.&lt;/strong&gt; Would you, here we go, have a lover, that's picking his nose and scratching his balls all the time? I thought so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) I'm sleepy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) &lt;strong&gt;He has to be a good kisser.&lt;/strong&gt; Among other things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) &lt;strong&gt;He needs to be able to stand my emo-ness/pissy-ness and waterworks.&lt;/strong&gt; Yes, I know and admit I do get emo. I hear boarie snickering to herself. haha. And if he can stick around while I am doing my thing, and not run at the first sight of a tear, then he's a keeper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) &lt;strong&gt;He has to have that thing about him.&lt;/strong&gt; I am so specific aren't I? You know that thing, which makes you giggle and smile to yourself after he leaves, making you look like a total psycho but you don't care? That thing, that makes you feel like you died and went to heaven when you're with him. This sappyness is so not acceptable on my blog so I shall stoppit now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so now for the fun part, I SHALL CHOOSE MY NEXT VICTIMS! MUAHAHAHA.&lt;br /&gt;Here they are: Chinalian, Boarie, Caine (who I know will probably not do this), Ms Choy aaaaand I can't think of anyone else that hasn't become a victim yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114255446886232662?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114255446886232662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114255446886232662' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114255446886232662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114255446886232662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/03/theres-got-to-be-something-better-than.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114211494835458948</id><published>2006-03-11T13:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-13T15:40:30.360-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;cupid, don't draw back your bow.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; This fucked up week is finally over. Thank goodness. Imagine the trauma if bad days and bad weeks never ended. If they just kept going forever. The horror. The constant nightmare. Anyways, it's all over so I'm good. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This may be the start of something so great or equally deadly. I don't want to think about the end right now, it's the present that I'm caught up in, which I know may be the hugest mistake I could ever make, but I'm going to take the risk anyway. All of it's a huge gamble. And its my turn to roll.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114211494835458948?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114211494835458948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114211494835458948' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114211494835458948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114211494835458948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/03/cupid-dont-draw-back-your-bow.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114194734264462607</id><published>2006-03-09T15:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-09T15:36:48.670-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;look to blue skies.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big world says he wants &lt;br /&gt;to see the light for once. &lt;br /&gt;Well maybe if you try. &lt;br /&gt;It's so sad. Babe don't look so sad. &lt;br /&gt;I've got it wrong today.&lt;br /&gt;I've got it wrong always.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114194734264462607?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114194734264462607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114194734264462607' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114194734264462607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114194734264462607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/03/look-to-blue-skies.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114177379514018105</id><published>2006-03-07T14:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T15:23:15.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;crumbs.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm at work now and my mind is so not into it right now. My mind is in a chaotic mess. I keep wishing for what could be, but never will be. I need to stoppit. Like right now. I need get a hold of myself. Tsk. So work is going slow, I have like a deadline and I just can't get anything done. I've barely made a dent in this fucking workload. School's going alright. Grades are fine, people are fine. No complaints there. Then there's things at home. What can I say? Same old, same old. KNN, the boss just called. We have to get this done, we have to, we have to. Fuck. There's only so much I can deal with at one time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114177379514018105?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114177379514018105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114177379514018105' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114177379514018105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114177379514018105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/03/crumbs.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114158617284701857</id><published>2006-03-05T11:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-05T11:16:24.716-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;cable car.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's rearrange, &lt;br /&gt;I wish you were a stranger I could disengage. &lt;br /&gt;Just say that we agree and then never change. &lt;br /&gt;Soften a bit until we all just get along, &lt;br /&gt;but that's disregard. &lt;br /&gt;You find another friend and you discard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And suddenly I become a part of your past.&lt;br /&gt;I'm becoming the part that don't last.&lt;br /&gt;I'm losing you and its effortless.&lt;br /&gt;Without a sound we lose sight of the ground, &lt;br /&gt;in the throw around.&lt;br /&gt;Never thought that you wanted to bring it down, &lt;br /&gt;I won't let it go down till we torch it ourselves.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114158617284701857?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114158617284701857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114158617284701857' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114158617284701857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114158617284701857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/03/cable-car.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114150128433771770</id><published>2006-03-04T11:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-05T13:40:46.323-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;the district sleeps alone tonight.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; I had a little trip to the past. So much happened, it's so hard to forget. I wouldn't want to now anyways. Or maybe I would. So young and naive we were, back when we thought everything would be alright. Now we're cynical and jaded.  Let's go back to then, when we had each other and that was enough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That tells your new friends I am a visitor here,&lt;br /&gt;I am not permanent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You seem so so out of context in this gaudy apartment complex.&lt;br /&gt;A stranger with your door key explaining that I am just visiting.&lt;br /&gt;And I am finally seeing, why I was the one worth leaving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DC sleeps alone tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114150128433771770?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114150128433771770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114150128433771770' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114150128433771770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114150128433771770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/03/district-sleeps-alone-tonight.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114098999700675877</id><published>2006-02-26T12:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-04T11:29:55.426-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;this cliched tragedy.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Um. I just nearly set fire to my apartment. I just wanted some toast. :/ Who knew bread could catch fire so easily?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched In Her Shoes yesterday and I have to say it was a pretty big let down. Maybe because I read the book before but I was looking forward to the whole part where Maggie goes to Princeton and I thought Simon would be fatter. As Lek has mentioned though, very nice shoes in the movie. I had wanted to get Domino though but they were out. Kiera Knightly (hot) as a bounty hunter (hotter), it's a must watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait till July. Can't wait, can't wait. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114098999700675877?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114098999700675877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114098999700675877' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114098999700675877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114098999700675877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/02/this-cliched-tragedy.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114066237176310982</id><published>2006-02-22T18:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-22T18:39:31.776-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;wake up lying in a patch of four leaf clovers.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;br /&gt; I cannot wait for this week to be over. Or at least for 9am tomorrow. I fucking hate presentations. Tsk. Presentation plus a paper due is double the annoyance. I was super restless today at work. I just couldn't sit there and do my work. I ended up driving around the block in an attempt to clear my head. Luckily by the time I got back it was almost time to go. Major achievement of the day: I pumped gas all by myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could there ever be a sadder song?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You dont wanna be here in the future, &lt;br /&gt;so you say the present's just a pleasant interuption to the past. &lt;br /&gt;And you dont wanna look much closer, &lt;br /&gt;cause your afraid to find out all this hope, &lt;br /&gt;you had sent into the sky by now had &lt;br /&gt;crashed,&lt;br /&gt;and it did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114066237176310982?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114066237176310982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114066237176310982' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114066237176310982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114066237176310982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/02/wake-up-lying-in-patch-of-four-leaf.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114039958925237753</id><published>2006-02-19T17:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-19T17:44:52.750-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;groupie love.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Hello world. It's Sunday and I'm bored and I have an English midterm and Sociology presentation I should be working for next week. Instead, I am watching reruns of Wild 'N Out (the best freakin show on the planet), painting my toenails (baby pink, whatcha think about that?) and pigging out. I spent some time yesterday reacqainting (sp) myself with Blink 182. Me thinks everyone should own their last album. It is pure genius. It's President's Day weekend, which in english translates to 4 days of no school and 3 days off work. Yay! for dead famous people.The weather here is going kind of wonky, you know. Last week was such glorious tanktopflipflop weather then this weekend it's been freezing. It actually snowed in the hills not too far from my place. It rained constantly on friday and saturday. My first time driving in rain which was kind of nerve wrecking. I kept praying for the car not to swerve on the slippery road. Alright, poetry beckons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114039958925237753?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114039958925237753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114039958925237753' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114039958925237753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114039958925237753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/02/groupie-love.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114023526410370794</id><published>2006-02-17T19:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-17T20:03:55.363-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;come get some.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Hello world. It is freezing today. And me being very in tune with mother nature, decided to wear a skirt. And then I  had to change into jeans, which by the way is very hard to do sitting in the driver's seat. Speaking of driving, guess what came in the mail today!?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/dl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/400/dl.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The DMV cameras are VERY unflattering. This looked alot better in black and white. Look how shiny my face is!! And of course the sunburnt cheeks. But yay! Now I don't have to carry around a bunch of permit papers or worse, my passport as ID. YAY!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I usually take my brown bag to school and work because I don't have much stuff to carry around but the other day I had two classes and I took my converse sling bag and in between my spinning in the swivel chair session, I found some stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/DSCI0526.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/400/DSCI0526.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you click and enlarge, there's the receipt for me and Banana's beef noodles, the last bowl of beef noodles from that last dinner, there's the receipt from that place at Wisma where I had my last dinner with Ah Yan, my last $2 (!!!), my library card with (ugh) little tabacco (sp) leaves stuck in it, and my underused ATM card. Of course there's the pictures. &amp;hearts;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am getting extremely distracted at work. This is good, but soo not good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114023526410370794?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114023526410370794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114023526410370794' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114023526410370794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114023526410370794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/02/come-get-some_114023526410370794.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-114015311819981179</id><published>2006-02-16T21:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-05T13:40:02.036-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;as you sleep.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the car, the radio leaves me searching for your star.&lt;br /&gt;A constellation of frustration driving home.&lt;br /&gt;Singing my thoughts back to me, and watching heartache on TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as you sleep, and no one is listening.&lt;br /&gt;I will lift you off your feet, I'll keep you from sinking.&lt;br /&gt;Don't you wake up yet, cause soon I'll be leaving you.&lt;br /&gt;Soon I'll be leaving you.&lt;br /&gt;But you won't be leaving me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't forget I'll hold your head, &lt;br /&gt;watch the night sky fading red.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-114015311819981179?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/114015311819981179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=114015311819981179' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114015311819981179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/114015311819981179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/02/as-you-sleep.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113945038456659087</id><published>2006-02-08T17:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-10T19:18:59.073-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;giga-ho.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Good times are back again my friends. By good times I mean warmer times, that is, not freezing i-have-to-wear-a-gazillion-layers-to-stop-my-teeth-from-chattering-times. Summer is here, birds are chirping, flips are flopping, and all is good again. It's 70 degrees and I'm wearing a tanktop and not freezing. YAY! Fireworks please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/DSCN7482.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/200/DSCN7482.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another piece of good news. I got my driving license! Well not the actual thing yet but it's coming in the mail. I had the worse time before the driving test with the family feud and I was so not able to drive. I nearly crashed the car and drove on the curb in the DMV but it all worked out. I was too pissed to enjoy it but the next day was cool and today was even better. I drove like everywhere! Everywhere meaning work and home and stuff. I loves it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet another piece of good news, well it's sort of not so good but overall it's good. I am no longer a MAC-whore. Thanks to Jane at Valley Fair's Macy's, I'M A CHANEL-WHORE! YAY! I love it. It's expensive but it's worth it I think. Can you put a price on the stuff you put directly on your skin?? Well I guess you can, but that's not the point. The point is quality. And pretty packaging. And pretty colors. :) :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Th pinkest day of the entire year is coming up. It's the only day where I want to vomit everytime I see pink hearts. No, who am I kidding? I want to hurl everytime I see pink hearts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, I get to sleep till forever tomorrow. Yay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113945038456659087?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113945038456659087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113945038456659087' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113945038456659087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113945038456659087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/02/giga-ho.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113893477056275355</id><published>2006-02-02T18:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T18:46:10.573-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;drive by.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Truck drivers who block my way in the DMV parking lot should die. Or at the very least crash their trucks. Or something. JUST DON'T BLOCK MY WAY, ASSHOLES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a pretty busy day at work. The phones weren't ringing off the hook but close enough. People coming by randomly. All this activity to keep me busy instead of dizzy (blame the swivel chair) would usually be very welcome. But it came on a day that I sound like a man because of my freakin cold. Oh, and a milestone at my work place, first relatively cute guy to ever walk through the door was seen yesterday. The rest of the clients are old, fat, balding or women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got a warning message for skipping so many english classes. :( It's not my fault the cold weather doesn't settle well with me. And that the class is exactly like PC, something I've done before and therefore so boring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the worse feelings is the world is waiting for a sneeze that never appears. So you feel that little tingle in your nose, hold the tissue to your face, mouth slightly open, all very unglam, and for what? For a sneeze that never appears. Alright, I'm random and out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113893477056275355?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113893477056275355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113893477056275355' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113893477056275355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113893477056275355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/02/drive-by.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113824504533637697</id><published>2006-01-25T18:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-25T19:10:45.346-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;pretend.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; I just got back from my driving class and my driving teacher is super cool. He's this old dude from Iran and when I stopped for a pack of fags, he was all telling me about how 12 year olds in Iran do (smoke? inject? swallow?) opium. Anyways, my driving test is next Tuesday and I want to pass it damn it but I don't think I'm ready yet. We'll see how that goes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I 'koped' a t-shirt from my work place. I don't know if I have used that word correctly or not, so correct me if I'm wrong. I learned it 3 years ago from an NTU mat. If I just said a bad word then pardon me, I have been misinformed. Go stone the NTU mat. So this shirt is really cute and since it fit perfect and that was the only size, I took it as a sign, and well, took it. Don't gasp, I asked and they gave. It says Curtner School (never heard of it )and has the mascot which is a stallion (italian stallion, nudge nudge) on it. Now if this is the t-shirt for like a mentally handicapped school, I will be very annoyed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I shall head for the television set and watch Singles and stuff my face with nachos. No it's not a dating show. It's an MTV Real Life-ish type of movie from the early 90's set during the grunge era. Maybe I'll catch a glimpse of Cobain. I heard he was an extra in the movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113824504533637697?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113824504533637697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113824504533637697' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113824504533637697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113824504533637697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/01/pretend.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113796982312439569</id><published>2006-01-22T14:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-22T14:43:43.163-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;butterfly in reverse.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; I never really got around to tell you guys about the crazy-ness of San Francisco. It was the insanely hectic week. It was school, work and then homework every single day. Never more than 5 hours of sleep a day, lots of caffeine and lots of nicotine. Friday was very much awaited and appreciated. Anyways, back to Sanfran. It was really really fun. It's like so huge and it was absolutely perfect. I loved it. We went to Chinatown and we got yelled at by ah peks for taking pictures of the merchandise. We got yelled at twice! They were like "look with eyes, not with hand!" and we were like what's got your panties in a bunch. They were so crabby. But it was really fun. We went to Fisherman's Wharf after that for clam chowder in a sourdough bread bowl which was the best stuff ever! It beats the canned stuff by a million. Good shit, I say. It ranks in my top few along with laksa and tomyam soup now. Then right after that we went to Ghirardelli which is this amazing dessert place. They have this huge fudge making contraptions that churns out the orgasmic chocolate fudge they have. So seeing there were like 5 of us, we had the Earthquake which was like 8 scoops of icecream with 8 toppings. The end result was not very pretty. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The highlight of the day, ok it wasn't really a highlight but it was the freakiest part of the day. We were leaving and while we were getting our BART (mrt) tickets, there was this group of people doing like these free stress tests, so we go there and they pretty much convince all of us to take the test. We had to hold these metal cylinder thingies and they would ask us a question and this meter would show the level of stress we had in that area. So this old guy was doing my test and he's all like I will ask you a question and I want you to think about, you don't have to tell me what your thinking. LIAR. He so tried to get me to tell him my life story and I was like being as vague as possible because I'm like what the hell, you are a stranger, old man. In the end it turns out that their main motive was to sell us a book, which was written by this leader of a sect of Scientology. Lek's first question was obviously, was Cruise hiding in the corner somewhere -_- . What total asswipes! And the books were like totally hidden until the last question were the magically make it appear from nowhere and tell us how much we need this book so we can be happy people and find purpose in our so totally screwed up lives. I do not think so, you wackjob.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have good news for boy lovers, saying that I mean most girls and some guys. New movie with Jonathan Rhys Meyers!! Yay! Let's all do the happy dance RIGHT NOW. It's called Match Point or something like that and it seems something like Closer, with couples cheating or whatever. Aaand, for girl lovers, that is most guys and some girls, there is Scarlet-I-have-a-mullet-Johansen, however you spell her name. She is kind of hot you gotta admit. So this is a movie for everyone unless your asexual, if you are, then I guess you better hope the plot or whatever is good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember The Titans is one of the bestest movie's EVER. After I'm done watching it, I have to get a head start on next week. Finish up homework and shit. I doubt I will get anything done but at least I can't say I didn't try. Have a good week people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113796982312439569?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113796982312439569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113796982312439569' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113796982312439569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113796982312439569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/01/butterfly-in-reverse.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113738596875328453</id><published>2006-01-15T19:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-15T20:32:48.766-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;downtown.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Trip to San Francisco. &lt;a href="http://www.jelly11.shutterfly.com"&gt;Click here&lt;/a&gt; for photographs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Random Picture from Chinatown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/DSCI0436.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/200/DSCI0436.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113738596875328453?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113738596875328453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113738596875328453' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113738596875328453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113738596875328453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/01/downtown.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113676067736846124</id><published>2006-01-08T14:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-08T14:51:17.380-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;a thousand clever lines unread on clever napkins.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Well 2006 is off to a relatively good start. I have a decent enough job. Driving classes have started. Hopefully my license will be next. My GPA is at a pretty stable 3.0. School starts tomorrow. I hope my classes are interesting enough and I don't end up dropping any of them. And that is about it. This week will be super busy. I just hope it goes alright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113676067736846124?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113676067736846124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113676067736846124' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113676067736846124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113676067736846124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/01/thousand-clever-lines-unread-on-clever.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113625181020166729</id><published>2006-01-02T16:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-02T17:31:03.436-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;memoria.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; 2004.hendrix. nana. xiayan. lydia. naz. free flow. caine. ming. yewjin. bottle of bailey's. drop it like it's hott. 2005. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pjc. 04A05. caine. ria. hidayah. nise. elson. jasmine. 04A04. love/hate. nor. charlene. hani. clare. jelly's boys. mazzy. isrin. praveen. pravin. sky. myong. pancake. orgasm. gspot. school. stress. gothic presentations. geog drq. econs lecture. night study. mr sas. steph chua. cck. lipstick lady. ozzy. library. concourse. canteen. bitching session. 6 o clock canal run. rugby games. song. ming. boo rj, boo. hockey games. lot1. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;town. starbucks. beef noodles. thai express. hot sneaker guy. pool. beach. chef ming’s.  zouk. queens. onyx.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anti-rooster. anti-vege. anti-frog. anti-usop. president of the saf. heartbreak. tears. fags. hugs. boys. parents. life. school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;heart. banana. bitching. crying. towning. phone calls. china lek. gurple lover. mcgrath lover. always there. china lian forever.  caine. pink rugger. ass grabbing. arm punching. ah pek. ria. alicia&amp;brenda. swings. chicken rice. texas5. lydia. boarie. rasta. reggae. hendrix. hiddy. punkrock princess. lauren. the oc. laguna beach. where are you stephaaan. nor. fag buddy. motorbike minah. nise. surfer boys. song. hoegaarden. zouk. ming. airport surprise. cookouts. khai. silver marker. ray. god from behind. shawn. sleepyhead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;airport. tears. hugs. goodbyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;california. stranger. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2006. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113625181020166729?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113625181020166729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113625181020166729' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113625181020166729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113625181020166729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2006/01/memoria.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113546262841294936</id><published>2005-12-24T13:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-24T14:17:08.423-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;won't be home for christmas.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; We're going to have a sunny Christmas Eve in California people! It'd like 68 degrees F and I gotta tell you, I am loving this. It's about time, big guy in the sky.  I am having an unusually cheery day today. I woke up to no one at home, which is good I guess. I wasn't in the mood to fight anyone for the remote control or computer. They were showing season 1 of Laguna Beach, always good. Now here's what's going to make you're jaws drop in shock. I went to the gym. Yep, I finally did it. It had been 6 months since I actually made an effort to counter the hoards of junk food I inhale on a daily basis. Nor would be so proud of me, I went like 25 minutes on the treadmill without stopping. That is a super huge accomplishment seeing that one, I haven't exercized in forever; two, sticks of nicotine have been very faithful companions; and three, I am the laziest person to walk this earth. Now here's the part that you may not find that amazing. I just ordered pizza:D I remember when three very determined girls used to run the canal outside school and to reward themselves, used to go to Sinaran for laksa afterwards. It's called balancing things out. It's all good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in such a good mood today because my gazillion layers of clothes have been replaced by shorts (yes i said shorts!! :D) and a t-shirt. I don't care what the weather becomes later, I'm sticking with my current attire. Maybe even for dinner at the relative's. I almost decided to go for a swim on my way back from the gym but I was too lazy. Here, I shall end my rant about the glorious weather.:D Merry Christmas people!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jingle bells, Batman smells,&lt;br /&gt;Robin layed an egg.&lt;br /&gt;The batmobile, lost a wheel, &lt;br /&gt;and joker got away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113546262841294936?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113546262841294936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113546262841294936' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113546262841294936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113546262841294936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/12/wont-be-home-for-christmas.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113540893104217980</id><published>2005-12-23T23:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-23T23:24:19.976-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sway.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Random picture time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/clxyjm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/400/clxyjm.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Yes, that would be from the good old days when econs lectures were so irrelevant and being silly wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113540893104217980?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113540893104217980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113540893104217980' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113540893104217980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113540893104217980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/12/sway.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113528372771835185</id><published>2005-12-22T12:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-23T23:23:53.476-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;underwater.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Wild 'N Out is the funniest show ever. Nick Cannon is like the funniest person ever. That is one show everyone should watch. Have I mentioned that Nick Cannon, Nigel Barker and Stuart Townsend are damn hot too? Well they are. The other day there was an I Love The 90's marathon on VH1 which was damn funny too. Micheal Ian Black, the guy from Ed is super funny. They made fun of everything. EVERYTHING. The Spice Girls, Woody Harrelson, every cheesy song there was in the 90's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;******&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you everyone for the birthday wishes. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113528372771835185?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113528372771835185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113528372771835185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113528372771835185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113528372771835185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/12/underwater.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113477141635620874</id><published>2005-12-16T14:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-13T15:53:43.040-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;the tide.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; This is why I heart the Spill Canvas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly there's Dave, still sitting on the dock. Ponders his life, and he skips his rocks. And he wonders when his father will return but he's not coming back. And he can't understand how everyone goes on breathing when true love ends. His mother whispers quietly, heaven's not a place that you go when you die. It's that moment in life when you actually feel alive. So live for the moment and take this advice, live by every word. Love is just a hoax so forget everything that you have heard and live for the moment now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there's three, count 'em three, children missing from the beach. They were eager to learn, to be taught and to teach. But the sad thing is that they never lived passed the age of fifteen due to neglect from their mother who was bed ridden by her ex-lover, their father. She didn't even notice, or pay much attention as the tide came in and swept her three into the ocean &lt;br /&gt;Now all her advice, it seems useless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;******&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's wishing a Happy Twentieth Birthday to Song! Almost every memory I have while being drunk and at a rugby game, not at the same time of course, has Song in it. The poster boy for Hoegaarden.:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/DSCN4300.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/400/DSCN4300.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113477141635620874?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113477141635620874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113477141635620874' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113477141635620874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113477141635620874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/12/tide.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113471286008795533</id><published>2005-12-15T21:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-15T22:01:00.096-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;breathe out, so i can breathe you in.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; I'm back. Finals week got a little hectic for me. The waking up at 4, staying up till past midnight trying to but not wanting to study. All too familiar eh? Well it's all over now. Maths went alright. Could've done better but I didn't study enough. English went pretty good. I'm hoping for a repeat of my midterm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's jump to another topic. Sushi here sucks. First of all, they put sesame seeds on the california rolls instead of the little orange things (are they like fish eggs or something?) So whenever we get supermarket sushi we always end up asking the sushi guy to make a batch without those cuz they do not taste good. Chawamushi here is unknown, and I hear Xiayan's gasp of horror right about now. My mom was horrified. Teriyaki isn't the best either. And they name their sushi weird names like rainbow sushi or the caterpillar. How can they name food after an insect and expect people to find it appetizing?? Ok so it's actually avacado which I like but hello, not a good first impression. Which reminds me, Yoshinoya here is such a let down too. I don't know what the dude in the picture on the Usher video set  (inside joke) is smiling so much about when the beef is so bland and there is a truckload of onions mixed in. I was so disappointed. It was truly heartbreaking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The OC tonight was good. The ending was super sad though, made me cry. But that's not surprising seeing that I could cry over a commercial. &lt;strong&gt;Spoiler!&lt;/strong&gt; They show how Seth had no friends during his bar mitzvah and in the end at Ryan's bar mitzvah, all of them were all happy and together and he had Summer and they were doing the interlinked group sway to that's what friends are for. Next episode will be super cool because they finally show Caitlin, Marissa's kid sister, who they have mentioned but never shown before and she turns out to be a wild child. Can't wait, can't wait. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking forward to school next quarter. I'll be taking English, Sociology and Philosophy. All potentially interesting but heavy reading subjects. And english will be more lit like instead of GP like as we had this quarter. Plus at least half the people in my class this quarter have signed up for the same class next quarter so that should be fun. I'm glad Foothill goes according to the quarter system, which is like 12 weeks a term, instead of the semester one which is like 4 or 5 months a term because by the end of quarter I have my academic burnout and it couldn't have better timing. I can't imagine the 4 months of maths I'd have to take.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;America's Next Top Model marathons rock and I should stop rambling so byebye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113471286008795533?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113471286008795533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113471286008795533' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113471286008795533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113471286008795533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/12/breathe-out-so-i-can-breathe-you-in.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113425830616515003</id><published>2005-12-10T15:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-10T15:45:06.193-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;caution to the faint of heart.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;How do people, like, not curse? How is it possble? There are all these gaps in speech where you just have to put a "fuck". I'll tell you who the most admirable people in the world are: newscasters. If that was me, I'd be like, "And the motherfuckers flew the fucking plane right into the Twin Towers." How could you now, if you're human being? Maybe they're not so admirable. Maybe they're robot zombies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Long Way Down, Nick Hornby  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is finally a sunny day in California. It's about time mofos. All this freezing my ass off is not good for me. I am so dreading next  week. Well at least till 10am on Wednesday because of the damn finals. Finals equal to studying, I have gotten used to not doing that so this will not be fun. Next quarter should be better than this one because I have chosen to be maths-less. I am fighting the good fight. Anti maths is the way to go. I bet I could start my own campaign. Be cool, don't count.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas is coming which is cool but you know the one thing I hate about Christmas? It's the cheesy Christmas movies meant for people under the age of 12 that they show on TV all the time. They're annoying. Tim Allen should stoppit. Santa Claus is an asshole. I remember the first time I realised he wsn't for real. When I saw our Christmas presents in the trunk of the car. My parents were so not good at stealth. I remeber believing in the tooth fairy too. I'd always put my recently fallen tooth under my pillow, wrapped up nicely in a paper napkin and I would get no money at all. Way to break a kid's heart eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113425830616515003?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113425830616515003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113425830616515003' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113425830616515003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113425830616515003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/12/caution-to-faint-of-heart.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113419357435881633</id><published>2005-12-09T21:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-09T21:46:14.370-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;walking by.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why do you leave these stories unfinished?&lt;br /&gt;My cheshire cat doorstop with tears in her eyes.&lt;br /&gt;Why do you look when you've already found it?&lt;br /&gt;What did you find, that could leave you walking by?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113419357435881633?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113419357435881633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113419357435881633' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113419357435881633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113419357435881633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/12/walking-by.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113399526755854255</id><published>2005-12-07T14:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-07T14:41:07.570-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;swiss army romance.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Today, Rachel, Marie and I went around the quad at school asking the most random people whether they smoked or not. Fret not, we haven't gone loco, it was for that cheebye statistics project. I swear the quad and cafe were so empty today and there was such a lack of men so if we saw a guy in the distance we'd like zoom in on him to ask him if he smoked or not. It was kind of funny, and very cold. It's fucking freezing these days. I've been told it won't get that much colder but still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The time difference is kind of screwing with me so I'm not sure exactly when I'm supposed to be saying this, so that it is relevant to the person it concerns. Now seems pretty good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:115%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday Ria!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/jellykiss.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/400/jellykiss.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:115%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, she is a good kisser. I know from experience (occassions not captured on camera). Here's wishing a happy birthday to one of the most beautiful, strong, tolerant (she's seen me at my weepiest and not ran), caring, understanding people I have ever met. One of the most amazing people I have met ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113399526755854255?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113399526755854255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113399526755854255' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113399526755854255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113399526755854255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/12/swiss-army-romance.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113383997555274645</id><published>2005-12-05T19:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-05T19:32:55.563-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;champagne supernova.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wake up the dawn and ask her why,&lt;br /&gt;a dreamer dreams she never dies,&lt;br /&gt;wipe that tear away now from your eye.&lt;br /&gt;Slowly walking down the hall,&lt;br /&gt;faster than a cannon ball,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Where were you when we were getting high? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some day you will find me, caught beneath the landslide, in a champagne supernova in the sky.&lt;br /&gt;A champagne supernova in the sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113383997555274645?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113383997555274645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113383997555274645' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113383997555274645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113383997555274645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/12/champagne-supernova.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113347937883437376</id><published>2005-12-01T14:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-01T15:25:07.970-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;the real world.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; It has been a while. Thanksgiving dinner was brutal. I have never eaten so much in my life. It took me like almost 3 days to recover from it. Eating salsa and nachos for breakfast the next morning wasn't the smartest idea I realize now. The weather suxors. This depressing rainy windy cloudy chilly weather wasn't a part of the deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/DSCI0273.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/DSCI0273.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; It has been raining for like a week. The sun came out for like an hour yesterday but that's about it. It gave me a cold and made me miss 2 days of school. Along with heartbreak and loss, waiting for a sneeze that never appears, is one of the most horrible feelings in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Random picture time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/DSCI0266.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/DSCI0266.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hometown baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was like 4 but I remember alot of what went on when I lived here. I remember the house we lived in. It was one of my favourites out of the gazillion that I've lived in. I remember this one night I had snuck a drink (non alcoholic and full of sugar, i know what you're thinking.) into my room and I threw the empty can in the waste paper basket in my room. The next morning I had visitors. Ants. By the billion. Hehe. There was the pool that I learned how to float/semi-swim in. The countless barbecues and sleepovers with the big kids. The christmas tree by the fire place. The one we thought Santa would come through to give us the presents we thought we had seen in the trunk of our parents car. I remember my childhood friends trying to comfort me the night we moved to Apple Valley,  the boy gave me a picture of the parrot he drew in school as a goodbye gift and we thought we'd be friends forever. I haven't seen him since. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 weeks till the finals and the end of quarter. 3 weeks till my birthday. 4 weeks till the new year. I miss my bitches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/blog.3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/400/blog.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113347937883437376?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113347937883437376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113347937883437376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113347937883437376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113347937883437376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/12/real-world.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113340837135843203</id><published>2005-11-30T19:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-30T19:39:31.366-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;heard 'em say.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing's ever promised tomorrow, today.&lt;br /&gt;But we'll find a way, &lt;br /&gt;and nothing lasts forever, but be honest babe.&lt;br /&gt;It hurts, but it may be the only way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113340837135843203?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113340837135843203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113340837135843203' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113340837135843203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113340837135843203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/11/heard-em-say.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113270959618733780</id><published>2005-11-22T16:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-22T17:33:16.200-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;better off.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; One more day. I need to get through one more day of school and then i'm off till next Monday. That kanina essay is due tomorrow. Tsk. One of the good things about school here is that if you don't like a class, you can drop it. A lot of people have taken advantage of this and half of my maths class is gone. I don't blame them of course. We have a kanina math project to due. WHO DOES A PROJECT ON MATHS??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been catching up on old times. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113270959618733780?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113270959618733780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113270959618733780' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113270959618733780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113270959618733780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/11/better-off.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113254870249202707</id><published>2005-11-20T19:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-20T20:51:42.503-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;under the tracks.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; I feel like a hyprocrite whenever I have to be around for religius stuff. It never bothered me before but it does now. Anyways, after the prayer thing at my aunt's house, while everyone was mingling and showing off downstairs, I was watching St Elmo's Fire on TV upstairs. I love teen flicks from the 80's. The music and the hair and the clothes are so.. from the 80's. Speaking of which, I love the 80's on VH1 is so funny. There's that guy from Ed that works in the bowling alley and this guy from the LA Times called Joel Stein. They are absolutely hilarious. No one is spared. Everything and everyone is made fun of in that show. Now since this is going nowhere, random photo time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/DSCI0248.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/DSCI0248.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the most honest store names I've seen in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I survived last week. I could not be more glad it's over. Let's hope next week goes easy on all of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113254870249202707?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113254870249202707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113254870249202707' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113254870249202707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113254870249202707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/11/under-tracks.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113244525471313364</id><published>2005-11-19T16:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-19T16:07:34.723-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;eww.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Yes that is the word of the day. I just heard something not so pretty. And OMG Talan is engaged to Kimberly Stewart. EWW. WHAT THE HELL IS HE THINKING?? Kimberly Stewart for goodness sake. I so do not see this lasting. His daddy probably paid for the ring too seeing that he's only 19 freakin years old. I give them 2 months. I'm hoping the red in my hair turns out alright. Not like the last time I did the DIY highlights thing which left me with like orange streaks in my hair. Oh, and as we welcome the holiday season, we also welcome the eggnog! I haven't had any in years. Next week is Thanksgiving break and 4 days of no school. I don't know if that's a good thing or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113244525471313364?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113244525471313364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113244525471313364' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113244525471313364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113244525471313364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/11/eww.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113235823615943471</id><published>2005-11-18T15:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-18T16:11:12.556-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;russia=vodka.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Alright, I'm back. Thank you everyone for your tags, Khai for The Talk and Nana for that 530am phonecall. Exactly what I needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear I know more random people that I meet while fagging than people I know from the classes I take. Like today I met this guy from Russia. Russia does equal vodka. Germany equals beer and Mexico equals tequila. I don't care what anyone says, these are like the greatest nations in the world. They have contributed so much to the development of the world. We should have a Russia Germany and Mexico Day to celebrate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like Tuesdays and Thursdays. I have math those days but I like meeting Collin or Roberta before class and bitching about how statistics suck while having a morning let-me-get-through-this-next-2hrs smoke. I like English too because while there is a debate going on about education, we tend to have very relevant and interesting side discussions about the crazy things that happen to us when we're drunk. Very relevant. I tend to not like weekends however because that means catching up with people that I have to totally censor myself with. I mean they're nice and all but I have to be nice even when I don't want to be. I have to smile like everything is just dandy when all I want to do is bitch and cuss about something. I think I'm losing my ability to curse. It's scary. I haven't cursed out loud for a while I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom is using my brother's cellphone right now because my brother is using his friends black moto razor so my mom has my brother's silver one. I want to laugh everytime she gets a call because her ringtone is Disco Inferno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/DSCN4321.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/200/DSCN4321.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Happy Birthday Chef Ming. &lt;/strong&gt;Thank you for the food, the surprise visit to the airport and the friendship.:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113235823615943471?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113235823615943471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113235823615943471' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113235823615943471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113235823615943471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/11/russiavodka.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113201795970437060</id><published>2005-11-14T17:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-14T17:25:59.720-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;upto me.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; I've had a crappy day. I quit my job on the first day. I had an argument with my mother. I cried. I need a hug. I don't need this. Take me away please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113201795970437060?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113201795970437060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113201795970437060' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113201795970437060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113201795970437060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/11/upto-me.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113183617898361763</id><published>2005-11-12T14:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-12T14:56:19.006-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ready or not.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Okay. I'm as ready as I'll ever be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/DSCI0198.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/DSCI0198.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;(ignore the water stains on the mirror please.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bring on the bras and panties Victoria! Wish me luck.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113183617898361763?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113183617898361763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113183617898361763' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113183617898361763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113183617898361763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/11/ready-or-not.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113176094224189809</id><published>2005-11-11T17:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-11T18:02:29.800-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;hearts recycled but never saved.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; If I'm not careful, I may be spending more than I will be earning. It would be like working for them in exchange for clothes. Cool. I could so live with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had the scariest night of my life. I do take stuff like that for granted and when it's taken away, I realize how important it is. Story of our lives eh? Cheebye, my nail polish just got smudged! What's with singers and rappers acting in movies nowdays? First it was Curtis Fitty Cent and now it's Usher. I want to see the new Ryan Reynolds movie, Just Friends and OH!! The new Aniston movie Derailed! I love Clive Owen. His accent and voice are very hot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, wish me luck for tomorrow. I shall be super nervous us usual. That sounds like I want to be nervous on purpose but I swear I don't, though I so know I will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113176094224189809?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113176094224189809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113176094224189809' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113176094224189809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113176094224189809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/11/hearts-recycled-but-never-saved.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113166114795681605</id><published>2005-11-10T13:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-10T14:26:58.386-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;random is my middle name.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Okay, now I hope that last entry hasn't jinxed me, and that I haven't gone crazy and heard that phonecall in my head. Today has been a good day. Math class was boring but at least it didn't make me think too much, we all know how I hate to do that. I got to go home earlier than I expected. Here I shall insert a random photograph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/DSCI0182.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/400/DSCI0182.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This is the view from my balcony. Don't let the lake deceive you. It harbours devils that shit everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As of this week I have a TuesdayandThursdaysonly fagging buddy. He reminds me of (Nise don't scream!!) Jared Padalecki. He doesn't really look like him but he reminds me of him. Speaking of whom, his partner ghostbuster in the Supernatural Jensen Ackles has a hideous name but he is damn hot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/Jensen_Ackles_wallpaper2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/Jensen_Ackles_wallpaper2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Don't mind the frame thing. I am too lazy to crop it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The OC is on tonight. I have books to read from the library. No school tomorrow because it's Veteran's Day. Long live the veterans. I am most probably going out with old friends, otherwise I will be doing what I do best, bumming.:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parting fact of the day. Lil Kim actually looks nice in her mugshot from when she got arrested after a shootout. And I'm taller than her! YAY! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And one more thing:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good luck to everyone taking the A level exam in like an hour from now. Kick some Cambridge butt. We all know they deserve it more than anything don't we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113166114795681605?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113166114795681605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113166114795681605' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113166114795681605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113166114795681605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/11/random-is-my-middle-name.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113165858037983278</id><published>2005-11-10T13:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-10T18:25:52.513-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;all hail victoria.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/adriana.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/400/adriana.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Here's a question for you guys. What do Tyra Banks, Gisele Bundchen and Heidi Klum have in common with me? You will be so shocked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;             WE ALL WORK FOR VICTORIA'S SECRETS!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kid you not. Well, I hope they kid me not. I was at the mall yesterday and of course, as usual, my mom and I went in and looked around and stuff. So like a half an hour later my mom had to drag me out and as I was leaving the store, pay attention now, this is a very crucial part of my story, I saw The Sign. I know you must be thinking Ace of Base right now, but don't. Try and get that song out of your head. (Sidenote: I was in the ladies the other day on campus and this really weird girl was singing that song to herself. She was totally freaking me out.) Back to the most glorious thing that has happened to me since I got cable. The Sign actually had alot of words and stuff on it but all I saw, the only thing that I could read on it was 30% DISCOUNT!! I stopped and had to force myself to read the rest of it. They were hiring! Hallelujah! So I went in filled out the application, and they asked me to come back for an interview the same day, like 3 hours later, which I did of course. Now the interview was interesting because they asked me to be dressed in the Victoria's Secret dress code. No, I know what you're thinking, I didn't have to go in my underwear, I had to be decked out in all black proffessional attire, which I didn't have but hey, any excuse to go shopping right? I looked and felt like I had dressed up like a bodygaurd for Halloween. But I think i did look pretty good, if I do say so myself. So I went back. Answered like a total of 4 questions that they asked me, did a survey on the phone and went home. AND I JUST GOT THE CALL AND I HAVE ORIENTATION ON SATURDAY AND I AM SO FREAKIN EXCITED! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes,  you heard me right. I'm excited about orientation. The person who refused to participate in 3 of them at PJ. But this is Victoria's freakin secrets. I'm gushing. I shall stoppit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holy shit. I need more black clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113165858037983278?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113165858037983278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113165858037983278' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113165858037983278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113165858037983278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/11/all-hail-victoria.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113142037992636531</id><published>2005-11-07T18:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-07T19:26:35.880-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;let’s turn forever, you and me.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; It's been a while, hasn't it? Well I have alot of news, but not that much news. I got a new toy and since you guys may need a break, here's something you haven't seen in a while, something you should see very often but unfortunately, you aren't getting your daily/weekly fix of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/DSCI0084.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/200/DSCI0084.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. I know. Bet you haven't seen that in a while eh? Get used to seeing me more often because I have a new camera! YAY! Everyone do that happy dance NOW. Very good. I put some highlights in my hair and I finally, FINALLY, got a haircut. The rest is the same old jelly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather today has been very knn. The sun decided to take a vacation so it has been damn cold all day. Like gloomy cold. Not very nice. Rainy season is starting so I have to go buy an umbrella. I hate umbrellas. They're so big and ugly and in the way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The power of faith. How much would you believe in something so intangible?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113142037992636531?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113142037992636531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113142037992636531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113142037992636531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113142037992636531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/11/lets-turn-forever-you-and-me.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113114581549768083</id><published>2005-11-04T14:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-04T15:10:15.506-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;to my playground love.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You could hide beside me, &lt;br /&gt;maybe for a while.&lt;br /&gt;And I won't tell no one your name &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113114581549768083?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113114581549768083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113114581549768083' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113114581549768083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113114581549768083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/11/to-my-playground-love.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113080874703646911</id><published>2005-10-31T17:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T18:08:45.163-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;trick-or-treat.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Fabian Basabe is a hot boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had an English1A version of Jeapordy in class today and my my, did it get rowdy. It was very fun though. My group didn't win but they were very much in denial which was all fine and good. I have two exams this week that I haven't studied for! I'm going to DIE! Plus I have to go to my aunt's place tomorrow for the evening. It's weird living in a place where I have relatives. Yes, I know that is a very weird statement to make but in Singapore, I had no relatives, which actually suited me quite fine. The ones here aren't actually blood relations, but they might as well be seeing how long our families have known each other. Quddus (the MTV VJ) is Napolean Dynamite for Halloween! Isn't that adorable? I saw some chick in the car next to ours with whiskers drawn on to her face, and for a minute I was like WTF, then I remembered. We got candy for the trick-or-treaters which I suspect my brother will be finishing up pretty soon, I don't think they go to apartments do they?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laguna Beach tonight! Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got my the first round of trick-or-treaters for the evening. The little boy was like SO CUTE! After I closed the door he went screaming to his mom, "Mom, I just got a handful of Hershey's!" How adorable can these little munchkins get??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113080874703646911?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113080874703646911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113080874703646911' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113080874703646911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113080874703646911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/trick-or-treat.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113054992201463625</id><published>2005-10-28T18:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-29T15:26:44.300-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;queen of hearts.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; I've been told I look the same now, as I did 12 years ago. Let's make a comparison.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/me.babypic%2013-08-47.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/200/me.babypic%2013-08-47.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/blog.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/200/blog.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Shiny People.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I do. All of the people that I hadn't seen since I was a kid told me I looked the same too. Why am I doing this very pointless comparison, you might be asking right about now. The point of this is very profound and once I tell you what it is, you will, I gaurantee this, have many unanswerable question relating to your existence on Earth. So brace yourselves, I am about to tell you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was bored. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113054992201463625?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113054992201463625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113054992201463625' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113054992201463625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113054992201463625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/queen-of-hearts.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113038680895225299</id><published>2005-10-26T20:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-27T19:27:34.333-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;i'll be your number one with a bullet.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; It has been fucking cold for the past few days. At least the sun came out today but yesterday was horrendous. Today in class me and Rachel kept turning to each other and going, "I'm freezing!" and "It is SO cold!" like every 20 minutes. SO COLD YOU KNOW. It was like 18 degrees but it felt like 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Mr Kwek is leaving. It's sad, isn't it? I mean he wasn't that bad a principal. At least we got some entertainment while standing in the scorching sun every morning. And he was pretty nice to me just before I left, because I got my withdrawal form from him and he asked me where I was going and stuff like that and said good luck. Come to think of it, the Hot Chick was even nice to me when I got the form signed from her. I swear that was the first time I had seen her smile in my almost 3 years at PJ. The security guards (shit, how do you spell that word) were always really nice too. They were always friendly and they let us in when we were late. God bless them for taking morning naps at 9 am. And how can I not mention the canteen? Our regular table. We sat there for like a whole year. Not literally, stupid. We even put up the 'A04 and A03 Only' label so the newbies wouldn't sit there. There was singing and crying and bitching at that table. Why am I going on and on about a table you ask? Because that's where it all began. That rainy day with Nadia, Nana, XY and me talking about rugby boys in their short shorts. Yep, the good ol' days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to get back to Rereading America. No, you can't read America. It's my english text. Shit, math quiz tomorrow. And The OC tonight! I finished the first season of 24 yesterday and OMG I could have never guessed Nina was with the bad guys. She killed Terri. That bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113038680895225299?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113038680895225299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113038680895225299' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113038680895225299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113038680895225299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/ill-be-your-number-one-with-bullet.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113019852195226504</id><published>2005-10-24T16:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-24T17:03:23.306-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;definitely, maybe.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Things have been looking very bright my friends, very bright indeed. Next week is going to be full of mid terms so let's not think about that one for now. Let's think happy thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/PICT3864.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/PICT3864.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very good. Now let's read happy things:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- VERY cute guy at the store today:)!!!&lt;br /&gt;- I was fagging during a five minute break during english class and one of the guy's in my class bummed a fag. When I handed him the box he's like, "Menthols, yum!" and for some reason I so thought of Ming:)&lt;br /&gt;- I did good for my geography assignment:)!!&lt;br /&gt;- I see a boy with pretty pretty eyes:)!!&lt;br /&gt;- New sweater! It is so soft! It. is. absolutely. orgasmic. I bet you guys hear me saying what I always say when we go shopping:)&lt;br /&gt;- The sun actually came out today, I thought it wouldn't:) &lt;br /&gt;- I escaped a very very close call:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so that's all I can think of. And yes, I DID feel the need to insert random smiley faces everywhere. Now, I'm going to watch TV and stuff myself with rice krispies treats:)!!! By the way, do you think I might have overdone it with the smiley's? No? &lt;br /&gt;Perfect!!:D!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113019852195226504?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113019852195226504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113019852195226504' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113019852195226504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113019852195226504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/definitely-maybe.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-113002316990679590</id><published>2005-10-22T16:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-22T21:07:48.550-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;can i have it like that.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It is 4:03 pm and I am still in my pyjamas. I've  been bumming around all day. MTV is my saviour. All hail. I am so bored. My MSN is being a knn because it randomly signs out whenever it feels like. Since I have nothing very interesting to say I thought of putting up some pictures but I can't because True Life is on now. Excuse me while I go sprawl myself  across the living room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Pharell has a new song!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How come MTV doesn't play music anymore? I've been watching for the past 4 plus hours and all I've seen is reality tv. That's not cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-113002316990679590?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/113002316990679590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=113002316990679590' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113002316990679590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/113002316990679590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/can-i-have-it-like-that.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112994028395879587</id><published>2005-10-21T16:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-21T17:35:48.043-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mr chow's.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; This is going to be a very PIAC-ish entry. If you don't know what PIAC is yet, then shame on you. It's somewhere on the left. Anyways. Chinese food here rocks. I think it might just be better then Chinese food from China, but of course I would probably not be able to confirm that for a while. When I first came to Singapore a long long time ago, I was pretty happy. But everything was so different from here. Like the names for example. Here it's called chow mein, chop suey, mooshu pork, kung pao chicken and stuff like that. In secondary school when I was really bad at pronouncing chinese names, I had to remember this one guy's name by reminding myself that it rhymes with kung pao. Back to the point! Nature Wok is a very very good place to eat. The food is fantastic and cheap. Usually if you don't pay that much for it here, it's not that good but this one is worth more then what you pay for. They have this chicken salad thing that I have never tasted before but is really good, general's chicken is damn good too and the portions are HUGE. The lunch special takes me through at the very least two meals. The chinese chatter behind the counter is very familiar. The lady there is really sweet too. If you go there more then once, she will remember you, so don't steal anything and come back the next week. She always says how-&lt;em&gt;ah&lt;/em&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;YOU&lt;/strong&gt; that makes me want to laugh but she's really sweet. So if you're in my area, which I'm pretty sure most of you are not, but in case you are- 280North(or is it south??) exit on Lee, go there! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talking about Chinese food, everytime you go to a chinese food place here you would most probably get a fortune cookie. They're really cute because they're like this hollow cookie with a slip of paper inside it that has a fortune written on it and now it seems, lucky numbers for the day and lotto numbers. Mine today said, "Someone is speaking well of you". I heard from someone that if you add two words to the end of any fortune, you can get a whole new meaning. Add 'in bed' to the end of any of them and they still make sense. Hehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's finally a friday. I always like the end of the week. Thursdays make me happy because I know the week is almost over and there's only one more day, 2 more hours of school to go. Fridays bring relief. No more essay drafts, statistics quizzes, english readings to worry about for a couple of days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mark Hoppus has a podcast called Hi My Name Is Mark. He plays some good shit on it. I downloaded it but never really listened to it until yesterday. If you like, ok I was about to name genres but I'm really bad with them so if you like Taking Back Sunday and Mae and everything that falls in between whatever those genres are, then you will like the podcast. Last week he got his mom to interview the lead of Mae and he talked to TBS which was a riot. I wish Tom and Travis had their own podcast (i always end up typing it as podcats). But more then that I wish they got back together for a tour because I can finally go to their concerts now dammit! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112994028395879587?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112994028395879587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112994028395879587' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112994028395879587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112994028395879587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/mr-chows.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112986096702952038</id><published>2005-10-20T18:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-20T19:18:15.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;love me, faster than the devil.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; ***Skip to the second paragraph if you don't watch Laguna Beach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watching Laguna Beach yesterday sort of made me sad. Firstly, my favourites Lo and Trey are MIA on it. I loved those two! Bring them back! Secondly, the current group is graduating. I remember watching the first season's group graduate and go to prom like a few months ago. A few months ago. But I'm happy because Stephan is getting what he deserves. LC won't be around for you forever, you pretty pretty boy! And also because Talan, despite having a not so nice voice, IS DAMN HOT! Kristin is still a bitch. Yay for MTV! And The OC is on tonight! After that is Reunion! YAY! But fucking hell, i have a 2 page essay draft and a math quiz tomorrow. Shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother was thrilled that he did better on the math exam than I did. It is very annoying. Even though he's better then me at statistics, he cannot shop to save his life. I can though, and I think that's more of an achievement then calculating probablilty, so there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, this is all very pointless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tsk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112986096702952038?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112986096702952038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112986096702952038' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112986096702952038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112986096702952038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/love-me-faster-than-devil.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112985277410325420</id><published>2005-10-20T16:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-20T17:01:05.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;watching heartache on tv.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; I had alot to say until like 2 minutes ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You say I'm your heartbreak? Times like these, your mine. Chin up. I wish I were there to tell you that everything will be alright. You will be alright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Don't forget I'll hold your head,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;watch the night sky fading red.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112985277410325420?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112985277410325420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112985277410325420' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112985277410325420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112985277410325420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/watching-heartache-on-tv.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112966644731547638</id><published>2005-10-18T12:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-18T13:14:27.360-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;approved.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; I got my 12 hours of sleep last night. Finally. No, that doesn't mean I went to bed at 6pm. I skipped school today. Which means I won't know how I did for my maths exam until Thursday which is absolutely fine by me. Things are looking up for me. I got to talk to my girls and the pinkrugger, certain things have been approved, and the cable has been hooked up! If you know me well enough, you would know what a big deal this is for me. I just watched an episode of Full House, a show that I haven't seen sinceI was like 8. It was from when the Olsen twins weren't trashy yet, they were like 6 years old. OMG  THEY'RE SHOWING FAMILY MATTERS NOW! I think I just died and went to television heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carmen Electra's real name is Tara Leigh Patrick. The deception! Speaking of Tara's, Tara Reid needs help. Serious help. And money for a proper boob job. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112966644731547638?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112966644731547638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112966644731547638' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112966644731547638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112966644731547638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/approved.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112959197951205333</id><published>2005-10-17T16:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-17T16:36:30.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;pacific coast highway.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Traffic is a bitch. We couldn't get to Half Moon Bay on Sunday because of it. There was a Pumpkin Festival. -_-.  But we did have a good time at another beach in Pacifica. The view of the Pacific Ocean is &lt;strong&gt;amazing&lt;/strong&gt;. It's what all beaches should be like. The water was damn cold though but you get used to it after a while. And how can I forget? CAN YOU SAY SURFER BOYS?? See, unlike some of my friends *cough*nise*cough*, I have never really cared for the surfing kind. Until now that is. So many pretty, lean, sun-kissed, sun-bleached-blonde boys. If I wasn't wearing my shades I would probably have been kicked off the beach for leering at them. I mean, observing them. This is the type of stuff I have been looking forward too. Now take me to Vegas baby. Speaking of which, the last time I went to Vegas, my parents took us to Circus Circus (it's fun okay, I'd still go there at this age) and put us to bed in the hotel room before hitting the slot machines. Anyways, back to the point, I shall have pretty pictures of the Pacific Ocean for you very soon. It really is something. This convinces me more and more that I want to live like right on the beach. How could anyone not want such a perfect view. When I say perfect, I mean it really is perfect. Huge waves crashing against the rocks, the quiet-not-too-crowded beach and nothing on the horizon but a pure blue stretch of ocean. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just watched Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants. Everyone should watch that movie. There's parts of it filmed on a Greek island. I so want to go there. It's as pretty as the location where Under the Tuscan Sun was filmed. Anyways, I cried like hell when I read the book and I would've cried just as much while watching the movie if I was watching it alone. Eric is very cute in it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got back an English quiz today that I did last week. I got 10 out of 8 (that's not a typo, there was an extra credit question for 2 marks). The last time I did that well in a test or anything was like in secondary school. Or possibly earlier, I can barely even remember. JC got me so used to seeing marginal passes and very bad fails that I was very surprised to see my quiz today. Now if only I could get something like that for a maths test. Now that would be the day, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112959197951205333?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112959197951205333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112959197951205333' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112959197951205333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112959197951205333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/pacific-coast-highway.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112942995385047031</id><published>2005-10-15T18:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-15T19:37:49.380-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;steal some covers, share some skin.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Today is a Saturday but it really feels like a Sunday. I have been very domestic today because I've had nothing else to do being home alone (I loved that movie, part 2 was the best). I've baked and vacuumed and laundried/laundered/done the laundry. I read like half of The Sicilian too. It's a pretty interesting read. It expands on this little section in The Godfather, which might I add, is a very good book. The movie I'm not so sure about. Anyways, it rained this morning making it really cloudy and gloomy but by noon the sun was up and things were back to normal. Rainy days here are as common as cold days in Singapore. I hope it's nice and warm and sunny tomorrow because I'm going here if things go according to plan-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/Half%20Moon%20Bay.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/Half%20Moon%20Bay.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't look at the words at the bottom. This is all Google could get me. So back to the point, if things go according to plan I'll be going to Half Moon Bay tomorrow. This will be the first sight seeing type of thing I've done, or will be doing rather, since I've got here. I WANNA GO! Ahem. Yes, I hope that plans work out for tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School. One of my friends is in Vegas as I speak/type. Vegas is where you go when you turn 21! I'm still 18! Cheebye right? When you're 18 you go to Mexico. Or, meh hee co in Song's words. It's like so far though! Nevermind, Los Cabos with the Banana when she visits.  Remember that essay I had due last week? I started it at 4 am the day it was due and I am very happy to say I got a B+. For 4am work, I have to say well done me. I thought the summary section was pretty good if I do say so myself. Everyone, all together now, 'Good Work, Jelly!'. Ok, I shall stop that. The math exam sucked though. It's just not in my genes to do maths. Really, if I were mathematically inclined I would know all of my 7 times and 8 times. That's why I suck at Tiger, it's not because I just want to drink. Well, that's the case most of the time. After a couple of shots, I usually stop counting. Hehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so good to hear those familiar voices again. Even if they were shocked-at-10pm voices with bad connection or drowsy-at-3am voices or tipsy-at-4am voices. I shall try and have better timing the next time. It was very comforting during my moment of poetic tragedy (okay okay, I was being emo). That, followed by songs from my favourite boy, how can I not be happy right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; Let's get drunk&lt;br /&gt;You can drive us to the harbor&lt;br /&gt;Wish upon a star but&lt;br /&gt;Do you know what stars are?&lt;br /&gt;Balls of fire, burning up the black space&lt;br /&gt;Falling from the landscape&lt;br /&gt;Exploding in the face of God.&lt;/div align="center"&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112942995385047031?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112942995385047031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112942995385047031' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112942995385047031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112942995385047031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/steal-some-covers-share-some-skin.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112925855441567090</id><published>2005-10-13T19:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-13T20:15:47.630-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;crazy.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; I did another really smart thing today. I'm like the Queen of Smart Things. I crazyglued/superglued my fingers together. Yeah, only I can do something like that. LUCKILY, I got my fingers apart before the glue stuck. I was trying to glue the rubbery bits back on to my chucks on my way to school this morning, because they are all worn out but I absolutely refuse to throw them away. Why? Because Chinalian bought them for me last year. And I &amp;hearts; them very much. So anyways, the tube started to leak and I got it all over my fingers and it felt really weird when it dried. Not a nice feeling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I was running late for school and didn't really get time to finish my cereal so I poured it into a mug and took it with me to the car. It reminded me of when I was like in the first grade, around 6 or 7, and whenever we were late for school, my dad used to drop us off on his way to work, my mom would put our fruit loops and milk into a mug so we could eat it on the way. So we'd be running to the car, shoes in hand, with my mom rushing behind us with two mugs of cereal and two spoons. This one time however, we were REALLY late and I had everything with me, or so I thought. Half way to school I finished my cereal and thought something was missing. Turns out I forgot to wear my shoes. -_- Hehe. My dad was not very pleased at having to turn back to get them. I just remembered that today when I was rushing to the car. How cute would it have been if I had turned up to school in my socks? Speaking of which the other day, while i was having my before class fag, I saw this girl wearing, brace yourselves now, BUNNY SLIPPERS. The fluffy pink kind with floppy bunny ears and everything! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Math exam tomorrow, essays being returned tomorrow. I hope the Essay Curse has been lifted. I haven't written a good essay since J1. But the one I'm getting back was written at like 430am so I'm not hoping for much. A pass would do. So much for keeping a good GPA. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have created the &lt;strong&gt;perfect&lt;/strong&gt; playlist. It is seriously my best creation yet. Here are some of the songs from it, songs that everyone should go and download. Really. Right NOW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Choir Vandals by American Analog Set&lt;br /&gt;-Strange and Beautiful by aqualung&lt;br /&gt;-Valley Winter Song by Fountains of Wayne&lt;br /&gt;-I Hear You Say So by The Innocence Mission&lt;br /&gt;-Eve, The Apple of My Eye by Bell X1&lt;br /&gt;-Handbags and Gladrags by Stereophonics&lt;br /&gt;-Guest Check by Tristan Prettyman&lt;br /&gt;-Craw Song by Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last one has the cutest lyrics ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Martha wants Jackie,&lt;br /&gt;Jackie wants William,&lt;br /&gt;but William wants Leroy,&lt;br /&gt;but Leroy is straight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He couldn't commit to&lt;br /&gt;the mental jujitsu,&lt;br /&gt;of switchin' his hittin'&lt;br /&gt;from ladies to men.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get it?? Haha. Poor William.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And seriously, go to bed early tonight, you die. I will personally come back and hit you in the head with a silicone implant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112925855441567090?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112925855441567090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112925855441567090' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112925855441567090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112925855441567090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/crazy.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112924928517845073</id><published>2005-10-13T17:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-13T17:21:25.183-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;wild world.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; I wish I could end what we began last year. I wish we could do everything we planned. This blows. And it's not getting any easier. Who said it would? I know someone did. Well, they lied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will receive a surprise around midnight. Stay awake, alright? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112924928517845073?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112924928517845073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112924928517845073' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112924928517845073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112924928517845073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/wild-world.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112908137348193488</id><published>2005-10-11T18:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-11T19:28:36.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;clarity.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; I finally figured out how to use that bloody calculator. I just woke up after dozing off while being sprawled very unglamorously on the carpet. I hate that post nap feeling where my throat is dry and my eyes sting (sleeping with contacts in is very not fun). The nap part is great and all but waking up from one isn't. Especially those middle of the afternoon, totally zonked out types. I also hate hate hate rationing fags. It's like wasn't the pack full just yesterday? Then you have to like decide, one more for today, no more then two tomorrow and maybe it can last till the weekend. And if you go over quota on one of the days, it is very very annoying. I realize I tend to repeat words alot for emphasis. Ok, out of point. I passed my first math test since my O levels! I took AO maths my first year, some people don't know that, and I didn't pass a single exam. For the actual Cambridge A Maths exam we had at the end of that year, I slept through one and didn't show up for the other. I kept wondering for a while why I didn't get my cert after that. It didn't take me &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; long to find out why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the photos in the Airport Files make me very very sad. There are some that I look at and want to cry. Not because of how hideous I look with puffy red eyes but I can't stand to see the girls with puffy red eyes that were pretty much caused by me. Here are the happy shiney ones though... Or at least attempts at being happy and shiney... Ok, we will never be happy and shiney because we are all angsty college students that hate the world.:) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i21.photobucket.com/albums/b280/anjali0347/blog.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112908137348193488?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112908137348193488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112908137348193488' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112908137348193488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112908137348193488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/clarity.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112899651569823390</id><published>2005-10-10T18:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-10T19:08:35.703-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; crash&amp;burn&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Now I know for a fact that I have to make a lot of money when I get older because I can so not imagine cleaning all the time. Vacuuming is like so tiring. Plus there was that time I tried to iron my pretty NEW brown top and it ended up with this huge hole in it. Nana told me I have to marry rich because I will so not be able to survive without a maid. But hey, at least I can bake brownies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did this really smart thing the other day. I walked on dry grass barefoot yesterday and last night I realized I had a tiny splinter on the heel of my foot because of it. It reminded me of when I was a kid there was this certain family's house we'd go and all the kids would run around the treehouse-ish-but-on-the-ground type of thing that was built of wood. Everytime we went there we'd ALWAYS get splinters and we used to know that if we went to our moms with a splinter in stuck in the palm of our hand, they'd take the splinters out with a sharp object which would hurt really bad. There would always be at least one of like 5 or 6 of us that would go inside crying and afraid of the needle. Well this afternoon I tried to take out the splinter myself. I asked my mom to do it when she got home for me but I realized she would just randomly poke my foot with the needle. Now this was a very challenging task. Not because I had to use a needle on the heel of my foot, but it is very hard (when you're an unfit person like me) to get into a position where you can see and reach the heel of your foot. My brother was laughing at me when I was trying to get it out. I so did not appreciate that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm listening to Savage Garden right now if you couldn't tell by this entry's title. Now it's Soundgarden. Don't you love the 90's?:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112899651569823390?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112899651569823390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112899651569823390' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112899651569823390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112899651569823390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/crashburn-now-i-know-for-fact-that-i.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112899181558095112</id><published>2005-10-10T17:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-10T17:50:15.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;hardcore days&amp;softcore nights.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; I have had an extremely productive day today. I tried my hand at baking! I made brownies that taste like *gasp* BROWNIES! Things got a little messy but it turned out fine. Considering that I made the add-water-and-eggs-and-bake type, they pretty damn well turn out right eh? I think if I made brownies from scratch, they could be labeled weapons of mass destruction and be sold for billions of dollars. I would be so rich then I could buy Hawaii and give all the tiny little islands to all my friends. Okay, I will stop it. I nearly set the apartment on fire today too because when I had to preheat the oven, I didn't realize there was stuff in it. Stuff that could catch fire. Anyways, I did the laundry too. I have made so many trips downstairs. To buy quarters, then to go to the laundry room twice, both times where I forgot to bring the quarters with me so I had to go back upstairs. But it's done so that's all that matters. Right? Right. I assembled a vacuum cleaner all by myself too... Okay, so not &lt;em&gt;all&lt;/em&gt; by myself, but close! So now I have to vacuum the place and do my math homework for tomorrow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather today has been amazing. After 11am at least. As usual I was freezing in class. I was literally shivering. I love my Zara hoodie very very much but I guess it's only good for use in Woodlands Library and airplanes. But right at this very moment, it's nice and sunny and there's a breeze and it's perfect t-shirt weather. Yeah I know, weather is what old people talk about but it you have to be here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got this movie from Blockbusters today called 'Friday Night Lights'. The movie is one of those typical football movies with the boring storylines and stuff but the cinematography and the music were really good. The music was very 'Maps' by The Yeah Yeah Yeah's. The ending is pretty sad though. I almost cried even though I watched like a total of ten minutes of the rest of the movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Close ups are such a total let down. Bummer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fall Sale!!! Everywhere I look it says Fall Sale!!! Aren't those lovely words? The holiday season is coming up which means more Sales!!! everywhere. Now, to find a rich benefactor/relative/enstranged sibling possibly? Riiight. I didn't think so either. Damn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112899181558095112?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112899181558095112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112899181558095112' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112899181558095112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112899181558095112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/hardcore-dayssoftcore-nights.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112880530942331972</id><published>2005-10-08T13:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-10T13:34:59.980-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;constant.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/DSCN6279.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/DSCN6279.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would I do without this girl? I would be terribly uninformed, for one. I would also not know what punat means. Thanks to her, my day is guaranteed to go perfect. 4am/1pm phonecalls are the best, they keep me going. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112880530942331972?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112880530942331972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112880530942331972' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112880530942331972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112880530942331972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/constant.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112873404073523487</id><published>2005-10-07T17:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-07T18:22:21.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;listed.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Seven things that will scare me:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cockroaches&lt;br /&gt;Car accidents&lt;br /&gt;Heights (sometimes)&lt;br /&gt;Boiling water/fire (stop laughing. burns hurt you know)&lt;br /&gt;Never becoming anything&lt;br /&gt;Losing my friends&lt;br /&gt;Dying alone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Seven things I like the most:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Television&lt;br /&gt;Laksa (no fishballs please)&lt;br /&gt;LJ&lt;br /&gt;MAh FwEnZzZz~~~&lt;br /&gt;Bandung&lt;br /&gt;Fags&lt;br /&gt;Skinny days&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Seven most important things in my room/ apartment:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Black Book (+ all the letters, photos and goodbye gifts) &lt;br /&gt;Bed&lt;br /&gt;The iMac&lt;br /&gt;My Cellphone&lt;br /&gt;Balcony&lt;br /&gt;The bedroom window that brings in the afternoon sun&lt;br /&gt;My blanket (because it's so darn cold here)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Seven random facts abt me:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mentally spell check everything I read.&lt;br /&gt;I hate it when people say 'stuffs'. It's stuff, singular and plural. (yes, I am a grammar nazi)&lt;br /&gt;People always ask me about my race, and they also make very off attempts at guessing.&lt;br /&gt;I was never a girly girl as a kid because the girls played boring games and the boys used to have less boring bike races.I still like playing with boys.&lt;br /&gt;I get annoyed when people breathe loudly.&lt;br /&gt;I have lived in 3 countires, 6 cities, 14 houses and gone to 10 schools in my 18 years.&lt;br /&gt;I love to people watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Bonus:&lt;/em&gt; I only know one language.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Seven things I can do:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sleep at anytime of the day.&lt;br /&gt;Spend money.&lt;br /&gt;Listen.&lt;br /&gt;Make people uncomfortable by smiling too much.&lt;br /&gt;Spend money.&lt;br /&gt;Swear in hokkien very elegantly, or so I've been told.&lt;br /&gt;Plan my day according to the TV schedule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Seven things I can't do:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Math.&lt;br /&gt;Sing.&lt;br /&gt;Save money.&lt;br /&gt;Lie well.&lt;br /&gt;Take a proper photo when the flash is on.&lt;br /&gt;Not care.&lt;br /&gt;Not miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Seven words/phrases I say the most:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WTF.&lt;br /&gt;Asshole.&lt;br /&gt;KNN.&lt;br /&gt;Like (inserted randomly in every sentence I say.)&lt;br /&gt;We were only talking! &lt;em&gt;(this one is for Lydia:P)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The OC is on now!&lt;br /&gt;I love this song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Seven celebrity crushes:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;(only 7?!)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mark McGrath&lt;br /&gt;Collin Farrel&lt;br /&gt;Olivier Martinez&lt;br /&gt;Eminem&lt;br /&gt;Wentworth Miller&lt;br /&gt;Jude Law&lt;br /&gt;Jonathan Rhys Meyers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Seven people I would love to do this:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isrin&lt;br /&gt;Khai&lt;br /&gt;Yuan Peng&lt;br /&gt;Ria&lt;br /&gt;Nor (she can mail it to me)&lt;br /&gt;Ming&lt;br /&gt;Ray&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112873404073523487?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112873404073523487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112873404073523487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112873404073523487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112873404073523487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/listed.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112864820414649497</id><published>2005-10-06T17:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-06T19:00:09.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;the breakfast club.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; I always thought my mom and her friends talk about wifely things like their kids and gossip and stuff. My mom and her 2 friends who could practically be my 2nd moms (they were around when I was in diapers and I would run to them crying when I got a splinter from the treehouse) got together and man, did they surprise me. They talked politics, dissed the government and talked about the economy. WOAH. I can't even do that. Politics is not really my cup of tea. It's interesting but I am so uninformed it's pathetic really. But I do know that Proposition 76 (some thing that cuts health and education funds and stuff) is not very favoured, which will not make Arnie very happy. They have ads against him on TV and everything. I'm not sad to say I have no idea who the PM of Singapore is, because I do know that subways are not the safest place to be at this point in time. Speaking of subways, the BART, which is California's version of the MRT, looks EXACTLY like the MRT stations there. Well, at least the one they showed on the news did (yes i DO watch the news). I thought they were showing Dhoby Ghaut MRT station but it was like Berkeley or something. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My math teacher reminds me of Mr Davies. He's always telling stories and has a foreign accent and a big belly. I remember goegraphy classes last year. Always at least 15 minutes late, 7 people in class, 5 of them asleep, 2 smsing, stories about England and a monkey set loose in the courtyard. Good times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;essayduetomorrow. mathquiztomorrow. cuteboytomorrow. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112864820414649497?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112864820414649497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112864820414649497' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112864820414649497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112864820414649497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/breakfast-club.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112857255937901896</id><published>2005-10-05T21:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-05T21:22:39.386-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;carousel.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; What a very tiring day. I got asked today whether the ring on my left hand meant I was engaged and I almost said yes, I'm engaged to a half chinese half malay girl called Na Yan. I thought that was incredibly funny. I came up with it myself :D . The two 'confused' girls on America's Next Top Model are very very annoying, they want to be gay, they don't want to be gay, make up your mind. This is nothing against gay people or even models for that matter, it's just those two. Both were in the bottom two and Kim, the pretty andro one got to stay! Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I realised how stalker I am. I cannot not look though, and I am pretty discreet so it's all good right?  (isrin, I got a name!!) And I also found my very own holy water supplier. Isn't that the best? I'm going to hate tomorrow. I have a math quiz to study for, an english essay on success (I hate topics like that) and somewhere to be. I haven't gone swimming in ages either. Which reminds me, OMG IT IS GETTING SO COLD. I leave the window half open when I go to sleep so it doesn't get too stuffy, I wake up freezing, shivering, teeth chattering, and this is only October (reminder:halloween is coming up!). In the morning while walking to class it's so cold that, in Xiayan's words, "you can breathe out your breath, that kind." But on a brighter note, it means shopping for winter clothes! Topshops tank tops will not suffice, though I love them so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112857255937901896?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112857255937901896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112857255937901896' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112857255937901896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112857255937901896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/carousel.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112839384816382479</id><published>2005-10-03T19:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-03T19:44:08.170-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;playground love.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; Aren't Monday mornings the worse? Like, where'd the weekend go right? Today I did something very unlike me in class. I &lt;strong&gt;volunteered&lt;/strong&gt; to read something. Everyone who knows me even the slightest knows that I. do. not. volunteer. To read, to discuss, to anything. But I thought of the 15% of my grade based on participation and was like wtf, I'll raise my hand just this once, never again. But I did again. But not again after the first again. There's a guy in my class that has the Wentworth Miller look. How lovely isn't it? I have to get up super early tomorrow to make sure I look decent for school because I'm getting my official school ID made. It's called the Owl Card. Yeah yeah, laugh it up. The owl is Foothill's mascot. The football team is called the Foothill Owl's. I think. Or at least that's what the field says. Back to the point. I shall have to aim to get a photo as nice as the one I got for my Driver's License. When I went to give my test, the lady marking my paper said that my photo was nice. :) People should smile in there ID photos. My mom and brother didn't and now they have to live with horrid photos for the next 10 yrs. It's the price you pay for not smiling, ladies and gentlemen. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112839384816382479?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112839384816382479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112839384816382479' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112839384816382479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112839384816382479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/playground-love.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112820371513833645</id><published>2005-10-01T14:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-01T16:54:06.513-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;bleed for me.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Another not so comfortable day. I've just read 50 pages from a gossip website. &lt;a href="http://www.junk-feud.com/archives/celebrity-way-calling/"&gt;Click here&lt;/a&gt; to laugh. I have homework to do. And I have to introduce myself in one paragraph for an online forum thing. I hate introducing myself. I'm in pain and I'll tell you guys a secret. It's 5 pm and I'm still in my pyjamas. Yeah yeah, how disgusting, but I'm going to shower soon though, I promise. It's just that I've been too busy reading celebrity gossip. It is fascinating how Duf got her ugly veneers because she kept chipping her front teeth on the mic and how Paris Hilton goes commando sometimes, which by the way is not the prettiest sight, trust me on this one, and also how Nicole Richie seems to keep shrinking. Jessica Alba has a fantastic ass though. Jared Leto and Jake Gyllenhal are very pretty. Kevin Federline is NOT.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112820371513833645?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112820371513833645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112820371513833645' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112820371513833645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112820371513833645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/10/bleed-for-me.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112812742071643621</id><published>2005-09-30T17:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-30T18:01:04.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;crimson tide.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I couldn't get out of bed this morning no matter how hard I tried. I was awake, the lights were on, but my eyes were closed. This was the case with my mom and brother too because I could tell everyone kept hitting the snooze button on their alarms making them go off every five or ten minutes. So I skipped school due to that and killer cramps. And also because I hadn't done my homework or studied for a quiz, but that's besides the point. I'm glad I got to talk to 4 my favourite girls. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keeping everything the same is not an option for us anymore. The only choice we have is whether we want to care about it or not. I do. I'm going to care about it because since it began, it's one of the things that's been most important to me. It's worth too much for me to just let go. But that's going to work against me, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just have another drink,&lt;br /&gt;Waste some time with me.&lt;br /&gt;We're happy in the meantime.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112812742071643621?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112812742071643621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112812742071643621' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112812742071643621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112812742071643621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/09/crimson-tide.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112804802054443341</id><published>2005-09-29T19:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-29T19:40:20.550-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;guest check.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I know now where the term 'struggling college student' came from. Have you ever heard of a hundred dollar calculator? I haven't either. I need one for the math quiz tomorrow. My credit cards all maxed out with the books I've had to get! I haven't even been able to shop with it. Isn't that sad? I know. So very traumatic. Well tomorrow is a short day so I just want to get it over with. I have homework to do now but The OC is on at 8. I miss watching The OC in Singapore. Messaging Caine and Lauren during the good parts, all the 'i love seth!' 'OMG did watch the oc yesterday?!' 'Alex is so hot!' conversations. I miss the very similar Laguna Beach discussions. I miss alot. Towning, playing dishonest games of pool, teh ping at Al Ameen, clubbing, laksa at Sinaran after school, 'studying' at starbucks near Wheelock, I even miss hanging out at Lot1. Now I don't even know what's been going on. Where are you? I miss you guys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112804802054443341?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112804802054443341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112804802054443341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112804802054443341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112804802054443341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/09/guest-check.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112794723410339752</id><published>2005-09-28T13:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-28T15:40:36.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;i don't do crowds.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;School has been going alright so far. Have I ever mentioned I hate math? Well, I do. and I have to take it this quarter. I don't have to take it this quarter but I thought I might as well finish it and get over with it. I dropped Political Science because I realized (i had to go back and change the s to a z for that word) it would probably get too hectic with all the reading for English and trying to keep up with Math(ugh) and online Geography. It's allstuff I've done before but a little more detailed and everything is in inches and miles instead of metres and kilometres. I'm also getting used to waking up early again. Wait. Who am I kidding? It's not possible to get used to waking up early. 5:50am is the worst time to get up. Ever. Half the time I don't even hear my alarm which is right next to my head. Alright. I have homework to do and naps to nap.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112794723410339752?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112794723410339752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112794723410339752' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112794723410339752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112794723410339752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/09/i-dont-do-crowds_28.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112778174780581839</id><published>2005-09-26T17:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-26T17:44:35.113-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;first date.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So today was my first date with Foothill College. It has a pretty campus.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/w_al08.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/w_al08.gif" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; It's on top of this hill which makes it pretty cold. I was shivering in class today. I'm taking English, Math, Political Science and Geography. Today was English and my class is pretty interesting. The content is like GP but my class has some pretty interesting people in it. There's these two girls who are from Russia (can you say vodka??) and Greece. There are some not so bad looking boys either. The teacher seems pretty nice too. I went to the bookshop after class to get the textbooks required for the class for me and my brother and the total for six books came upto 200 dollars. KNN. It's like daylight robbery. And that's only one subject. CCB. Anyways, a word of advice. Don't use skincare products for the first time on the day before your first day of school. I did. And I never will again. I have like burn marks on my cheeks. Not the first impression I was going for. Now my cheeks sting and it'll only get better in a few days. CCB. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm dying for some real food. Laksa, beef noodles, chicken rice, tom yam, nasi lemak (nor knows how I like it) ANYTHING, even canteen food will do. I'm sick of mac and cheese and rice-a-roni. The other day I nearly shrieked in the store when I saw a bottle of capri sun lemon tea. Of course I bought it and I nearly cried when I realized IT WAS A FAKE. They sell fake lemon tea in California. Somebody tell me how I'll survive till June.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112778174780581839?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112778174780581839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112778174780581839' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112778174780581839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112778174780581839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/09/first-date.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112751356726646469</id><published>2005-09-23T14:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-23T23:16:08.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sugar, we're going down.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The band Fall Out Boy has some really funny song titles. Here are some:&lt;br /&gt;-It's Not A Side Effect Of The Cocaine. I Am Thinking It Must Be Love&lt;br /&gt;-Our Lawyer Made Us Change The Name Of This Song So We Wouldn't Get Sued&lt;br /&gt;-I've Got A Dark Alley And A Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth&lt;br /&gt;-Champagne For My Real Friends, Real Pain For My Sham Friends&lt;br /&gt;-I Slept With Someone In Fall Out Boy And All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me&lt;br /&gt;-A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More "Touch Me"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my favoutire one, the part in the brackets at least:&lt;br /&gt;-Get Busy Living Or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part To Save The Scene And Stop Going To Shows) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this is one very orgasmic man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i21.photobucket.com/albums/b280/anjali0347/wentworthmiller4-1.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He would probably look familiar because he is the amazingly hot guy who wears the suit and chucks in the Mariah Carey video We Belong Together. He is the amazingly hot guy who Xiayan and I drool over. I was channel surfing and I started watching this show called Prison Break and I did a double take when I saw him. He gets his toenail pulled out in the show by the bad guys! Why would they do something like that? Why? Why? why would someone be so cruel? Why would somebody want to mar his beauty? Why? Wentworth Miller (you can tell he's English and sexy from his name alone) is way up on my list now. But of course our number one is always Mark McGrath. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i21.photobucket.com/albums/b280/anjali0347/markmg.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We &amp;hearts; Mark forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112751356726646469?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112751356726646469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112751356726646469' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112751356726646469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112751356726646469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/09/sugar-were-going-down.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112751129075387610</id><published>2005-09-23T14:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-23T23:16:42.186-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;gourmet.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm getting pretty  good at this instant macaroni and cheese business. And it does turn out half decent, unlike every other thing I try and cook. Doesn't come close to Ming's mac and cheese though of course. Nothing beats Ming's mac and cheese. And baked salmon. And mango salad. And pasta. Well, you get my drift. He is the Best cook in the whole entire world. M. Yong comes under that category too because he makes chocolate chip cookies To Die For.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The radio staions on iTunes rock. Especially the Indie Pop Rock station. They  have good reggae stuff too (did you hear that Lydia?!)The only thing that sucks though is that almost all the songs they play do not exist on Limewire. That sucks bigtime. Anyways, it is a very Jelly Radio Station. I like.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112751129075387610?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112751129075387610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112751129075387610' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112751129075387610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112751129075387610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/09/gourmet.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112744567698802896</id><published>2005-09-22T20:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-22T20:22:07.273-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;january morning.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I start school next Monday and I am very very nervous. I hate first days of school. All 8 or 9 of them I've had in my 12 odd years of education. I hate them so so much. I don't even know what I need for my first day. So much for being prepared. I'm wondering if Monday morning, someone bugs me about what song I'm listening to on my iPod(not CD player this time). Lightening doesn't strike twice though, does it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been very upset the past few days. Half of my photo album was lost in the move and a few days ago when I plugged my iPod into the computer, I lost ALL my songs. I'm feeling better now that I have redownloaded all my songs. 900 songs that I had collected over the span of at least a year, have been reDL'ed with in 2 days. Something I could not have done without Marc who luckily still had the playlist I send him like a month ago. But everyone reading this, send me all the photos you can when you see me online!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;My secret is fatally gorgeous.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'd die for you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;But when your precious life is at stake, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;tell me would you die for me too? &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/16332751-112744567698802896?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112744567698802896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112744567698802896' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112744567698802896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112744567698802896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/09/january-morning.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112725848245847610</id><published>2005-09-20T16:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-20T16:21:22.463-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;last summer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/1600/collage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8112/357/320/collage.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112725848245847610?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112725848245847610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112725848245847610' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112725848245847610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112725848245847610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/09/last-summer.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112725524882181985</id><published>2005-09-20T15:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-20T15:27:28.826-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;rainy days.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Today is the first day it's rained since I've got here. I love the smell of rain. I miss playing catch in the rain, getting drenched, going back inside to warm up and get some hot chocolate, not a care in the world. That's from the past though isn't it? The last time I did that was like when I was 10. As much as my childhood had some pretty low lows, it wasn't that bad when I think about it on good days. Different countries, different people, so many crazy memories of care free moments in the sun. Good times I say.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112725524882181985?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112725524882181985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112725524882181985' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112725524882181985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112725524882181985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/09/rainy-days.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112718147318376091</id><published>2005-09-19T18:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-19T18:57:53.186-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;a thing of beauty&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i21.photobucket.com/albums/b280/anjali0347/imac.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The IMac.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The new installment in my home. It is the prettiest thing in the whole entire world. After Mark Mcgrath that is. The only downsides to this are getting used to using a mac and paying for it for the rest of our lives. But hey, I can live with that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112718147318376091?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112718147318376091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112718147318376091' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112718147318376091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112718147318376091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/09/thing-of-beauty-imac.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112709223260955606</id><published>2005-09-18T17:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-18T18:14:32.263-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;come back and haunt me&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I have been MIA for a few days because the Internet was down. It is so boring when you're all alone at home with nothing to do and no way to get out. And we all know what boredom can do:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i21.photobucket.com/albums/b280/anjali0347/boredom.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So I spent the day watching DVD's that I didn't really want to watch. I saw The Last Samurai and you know the two little Japanese boys? Well the elder one of the two is. so. damn. cute. I want to bite him. Isn't he the most adorable little thing EVER?? My brother watched the second half with me and he couldn't see the subtitles from where he was sitting so I was reading them out and it went something like this. "The samurai blah blah blah honour blah OMG HE'S SO CUTE blah blah warrior blah battle blah life ISN'T HE SO ADORABLE?? blah blah" Needless to say I was told to shut up many times during the movie. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I also saw 50 First Dates today and I remembered the first time I saw it was on a date with my chinalian, Xiayan. That was one day I won't be forgetting any time soon because an indian lady in Clementi with watermelons in the place of her chest, offered to massage my, ahem, twins, to make them bigger. When she made her offer, my jaw dropped open because I realised I hadn't heard her wrong and Xiayan just left me stranded because she had to ran away laughing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;On a less, WTF note, I miss you guys. I would sell my soul to the devil for a bowl of laksa and a plane ticket to Sinagpore. And also a million dollars, but that's negotiable. I read the letters and cards and flip through the photos like almost everyday. I miss you everyday. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nobody said it was easy.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;No one ever said it would be this hard.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Take me back to the start.&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/16332751-112709223260955606?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112709223260955606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112709223260955606' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112709223260955606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112709223260955606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/09/come-back-and-haunt-me.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112682067313432878</id><published>2005-09-15T14:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-19T20:21:50.750-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;wild thang&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Today, I managed to burn my toe with a hot iron. How you ask? I don't know but knowing me, of course I can mange to burn my toe. It hurts. So here's another day with nothing to do except look for a job and watch the most amazing show on tv SAVED BY THE BELL!!! Isn't it the best show ever? I grew up loving this show. Back then Tiffany Amber Thiessen wasn't a porn star. I heart Zach Morris. Midday television rocks. Reruns of all my faourites and we all know how much I love tv, don't we? Reruns of Friends and That 70's Show too! The Jerry Springer show is really something though. So a bunch of chicks get on the show and fight on stage, over a man of course, pulling each other's hair and clawing and scratching. This of course gets the whole crowd cheering for Jerry who does nothing but stand by the side and watch the girls fight it out. And I missed The OC yesterday, I am so sad I want to die. How could this happen? Why would God do this to me? Why? Why?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Anyways, I've got my driver's permit and I need to practice, or rather learn, before I take the final test before I get my license. The first time I got behind the wheel, I ran over the curb in the parking lot. I guess I'm not ready for the roads yet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112682067313432878?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112682067313432878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112682067313432878' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112682067313432878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112682067313432878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/09/wild-thang-today-i-managed-to-burn-my.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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-16332751.post-112672734135772297</id><published>2005-09-14T12:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-19T20:22:31.453-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;the pool guy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the apartment complex I live in, it's called Marina Playa. I first thought it was Playa as in player with a slang but it turns out it's Playa as in plah-ya. Well, luckily I didn't say it out loud first. Anyways, back to the point, which I will be making in a minute. There are two guys here who are sort of the resident handymen. If there's something broken, leaking or flooding, they are the ones to call. Now these two guys are real characters. Steve, is this huge guy who looks like a professional wrestler and basically he's huge. He makes me look like a midget. His partner is this little mexican guy who talks EXACTLY LIKE SPEEDY GONZALES! I swear he does! It is the cutest thing ever. When he talks it's sort of hard to understand but I swear it is the cutest accent I have ever heard. They're both really nice though. They always tell us funny stories about weird stuff that they have to deal with on the job and always say hi. Everyone always says hi here. People I don't know. I'm getting used to saying 'hi!howareyoutoday?' to people I talk to like in stores and stuff. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's something that irritates me to no end. When people don't act their age. Like you're 17 and you still throw the most childish tantrums. No seriously, when are you going to grow up then? Alot of the people I know have to grow up pretty fast because they have no choice. They have had to make decisions even though they weren't ready to make them. It's just hard for me to comprehend how someone can be &lt;em&gt;that &lt;/em&gt;unreasonable. It goes over my head.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16332751-112672734135772297?l=inyourhonour-.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/feeds/112672734135772297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16332751&amp;postID=112672734135772297' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112672734135772297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16332751/posts/default/112672734135772297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://inyourhonour-.blogspot.com/2005/09/pool-guy-in-apartment-complex-i-live.html' title=''/><author><name>anjali0347</name><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>
