<?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-3628040</id><updated>2012-01-02T17:35:03.521+08:00</updated><category term='taxi music'/><category term='most ironic love song'/><category term='nostalgia'/><category term='valentine&apos;s song'/><category term='regret'/><category term='love letter'/><category term='ex'/><category term='relationship'/><category term='embassy'/><category term='chris'/><category term='social shopping'/><category term='thinking of you'/><category term='reminiscing former work'/><category term='poor man&apos;s tips'/><category term='group buying experience'/><category term='nostalgic old office'/><category term='broke'/><category term='mtv'/><category term='Sealed smells are like taking photographs.'/><category term='remembering old employer'/><category term='discount voucher'/><title type='text'>Âme sœur</title><subtitle type='html'>These are my principles. If you don't like them, I have others...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>382</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-9077115882719888580</id><published>2012-01-02T10:43:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-02T17:35:03.586+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Top 2011 Songs I Loved Listening to on Youtube:1. Moulin Rouge - Come What May (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvJpJl04cAI)- At the beginning of 2011, I allowed myself infatuations involving 1) a younger guy and: 2)another guy who looks a bit like Ewan McGregor in my infatuated mind. This led me to watch this Moulin Rouge clip over and over again, reveling in the feeling of falling in love with a</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/9077115882719888580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=9077115882719888580&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/9077115882719888580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/9077115882719888580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2012/01/top-2011-songs-i-loved-listening-to-on.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-2354941553622747445</id><published>2011-10-09T14:44:00.013+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-09T16:41:21.635+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Real Steel: A Movie ReviewWhen I first read my invite for the movie and came across the word "action", I was not really thrilled about it, as action movies bring to my mind images of helicopter scenes, helicopter sounds, soldiers milling back and forth restlessly --thereby perenially boring me to tears, and causing me to 1)poke my seatmate every 5 seconds 2)offer him or her candy 3)yawn profusely</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2354941553622747445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=2354941553622747445&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2354941553622747445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2354941553622747445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2011/10/real-steel-movie-review-when-i-first.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tf6S4LgQHI4/TpFTJTd6oWI/AAAAAAAAAKw/xRcNBOojkB0/s72-c/Real-Steel-Movie-Exclusive-Pictures-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-422981109288925453</id><published>2011-09-16T18:05:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-09-16T18:06:15.322+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Will you love me when I don't feel like kissing?When the last thing I want is to touch?                          --Glory Szabo</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/422981109288925453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=422981109288925453&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/422981109288925453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/422981109288925453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2011/09/will-you-love-me-when-i-dont-feel-like.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-3107425384915677485</id><published>2011-09-11T21:48:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2011-09-12T01:04:24.289+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='broke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='group buying experience'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='social shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poor man&apos;s tips'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='discount voucher'/><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Me as a Discount Voucher ClaimerLast week is Broke Week. To cope with that, I decided searching my belongings for discount vouchers to claim as my personal solution to Penniless Days [that went on indefinitely]. To find a solution for Ulam For The Coming Days, I dug up my 2 vouchers for a certain grill restaurant in Timog. I've already called the restaurant a day before, and I have already </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3107425384915677485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=3107425384915677485&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3107425384915677485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3107425384915677485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2011/09/me-as-discount-voucher-claimer-last.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-8821214620257334852</id><published>2011-08-23T23:04:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T01:06:32.035+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Not a heartbreak Wearing the old shirt that used to belong to her first love [who is now another woman's husband] when she needs to borrow strength.Momentarily forgiving him and going on with her life, but getting weak and unsolid again every time someone she loves hurts her.Blaming him for never really returning the independence he took from her after he met her. Knowing that what she's </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8821214620257334852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=8821214620257334852&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/8821214620257334852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/8821214620257334852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2011/08/not-heartbreak-wearing-old-shirt-that.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-195315684817796185</id><published>2011-08-21T19:24:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T23:24:21.501+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>That awkward moment when your love for each other don't exactly meetAlthough you could be in a relationship with someone at the moment, sadly, there will come a time when the most intense love you're feeling for your partner is not exactly reciprocated. Not to be mistaken for "Unrequitted Love", this occurrence which happens regularly to everyday loving people who are committed to each other </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/195315684817796185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=195315684817796185&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/195315684817796185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/195315684817796185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2011/08/that-awkward-moment-when-your-love-for.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-8892018100078236379</id><published>2011-07-04T00:30:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-04T00:37:24.233+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Transformers Dark of the Moon Movie ReviewTransformers movies, for me, will always be 70% Optimus Prime’s voice. That distinct elegant magnificent voice which reminds me of childhood TV watching, will always give long-time fans some form of security which childhood memories bring.  The 20% is the happy metal clunking which is the warfare of the robots, along with all the wonderful motions of the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8892018100078236379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=8892018100078236379&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/8892018100078236379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/8892018100078236379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2011/07/transformers-dark-of-moon-movie-review.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CD_KGsFhJ10/ThCZp5iosBI/AAAAAAAAAIs/Kq4-H2CJDz4/s72-c/hulk.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-2535589493521124765</id><published>2011-05-30T10:26:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T10:42:29.114+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>My Broken-hearted BoyYou who carry a big scar on your soul.I sometimes catch you with faraway looks in your eyes.You, who is as generous in giving away your body.As you are a scrooge with keeping your heart.You kiss me and spoil me.But you look away when I try giving you my heart.You who always cracks male chauvinistic jokes.I cry with you in your frailtyAnd frustration as I struggle to give you </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2535589493521124765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=2535589493521124765&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2535589493521124765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2535589493521124765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2011/05/my-broken-hearted-boy-you-who-carry-big.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-346033334232734481</id><published>2011-05-11T15:54:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T15:54:25.854+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I meant to tell you something but it escapes me at the moment. I believe it had to do with how the spring has moved into my fingertips and into everything I touch, and that I've been feeling soft and faint and white and light yellow, blue, and pink, and thatI miss youI miss youI missyou. -Glory Szabo</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/346033334232734481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=346033334232734481&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/346033334232734481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/346033334232734481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-meant-to-tell-you-something-but-it.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-8280253659897145719</id><published>2011-04-24T02:17:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-04-24T02:26:00.585+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Love confessionsTruth is I can never steal a guy from a girl. I mean I can but I won’t. I’ve always felt a kinship with my fellow women and I could never really take it upon myself to be the cause of their heartache and pain. I almost stole a guy once but my conscience won’t give me peace so I stopped seeing the guy before anything happens. Before that, I had similarly fell for another guy with a</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8280253659897145719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=8280253659897145719&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/8280253659897145719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/8280253659897145719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2011/04/love-confessions-truth-is-i-can-never.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hqXCNy7kSSk/TbMY8Oq8UBI/AAAAAAAAAIg/yC_RSMl9AzA/s72-c/little%2Bgirl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-6863777046745218937</id><published>2011-04-24T00:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-04-24T00:17:11.047+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>How I lost a toenailYesterday I went to the CR at the office to brush my teeth. As it was really hot and suffocating in there, I quickly finished and said bye to 2 other officemates in the CR, and darted hurriedly out of the room. Or so I thought.When I swung open the door, I forgot that I had feet and opened the door inwards over my left foot. It just felt like a normal bruise I usually incur </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/6863777046745218937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=6863777046745218937&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6863777046745218937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6863777046745218937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2011/04/how-i-lost-toenail-yesterday-i-went-to.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-2207622796309940232</id><published>2011-03-26T09:27:00.013+08:00</published><updated>2011-04-24T02:27:15.171+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Me &amp; My Cat: An Awesome RelationshipShe was given almost immediately to us -handed to me, in particular, at our doorstep because her original owner can’t afford to have her, her twin, and her mother at the same time.Therefore I am her mother.She is our 1st sweet pet.In all my years as a pet owner, no other pet had ever snuggled or cuddled to us, or jumped on our lap to sleep. She thought us the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2207622796309940232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=2207622796309940232&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2207622796309940232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2207622796309940232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2011/03/me-my-cat-awesome-relationship-she-was.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Rw9J0mwluU8/TY1FAbaZQ-I/AAAAAAAAAIY/NUKlds0a8qw/s72-c/tumbabycat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-2745726324743361156</id><published>2011-02-27T14:07:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-27T14:13:06.108+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>People ask me why I never get drunk. Some people don’t quite buy my regular Drink Refusal Excuse of having stomach acidic problems. And so, coming home late one night after being out with friends, here is what I assessed:I have a thing with power.  My ego is a natural force that also has natural reluctance with being dominated.  And being drunk for me can tilt my self-command and let something as</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2745726324743361156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=2745726324743361156&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2745726324743361156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2745726324743361156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2011/02/people-ask-me-why-i-never-get-drunk.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ou8pOD_22VY/TWnra-cEB0I/AAAAAAAAAGw/OU_fcTaILus/s72-c/ladiesdrinks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-4474774738816060411</id><published>2011-02-23T22:57:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T22:59:11.122+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Out of the blue, I had a nightmare. It happened last night and involved hostile feelings exchanged between me and his new extended family. Something about me consuming his left-over wedding cake while his mother-in-law's eyes shoot daggers at me. I never even think of him anymore. I had stopped loving him years ago. My subconscious just remembering a faded memory. Missing its old comfort. Maybe </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4474774738816060411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=4474774738816060411&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4474774738816060411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4474774738816060411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2011/02/out-of-blue-i-had-nightmare.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-4676623146887385269</id><published>2011-02-15T01:23:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T01:24:47.630+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='valentine&apos;s song'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='taxi music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='most ironic love song'/><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Most Ironic Love SongIn the spirit of Valentine’s, here is what I think is the most ironic love song, inspired by Hanz’ posting of its lyrics in his status:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8HCIJfA5UXYThe classic song, which can often be heard played in taxi cabs especially on Sundays, is a song about waking up to find the joys of falling in love:“There is beauty up above and things we never </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4676623146887385269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=4676623146887385269&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4676623146887385269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4676623146887385269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2011/02/most-ironic-love-song-in-spirit-of.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-6107958520233103523</id><published>2011-01-22T01:32:00.012+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-22T01:52:06.375+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Green Hornet movie reviewI liked it. The way Green Hornet would just mindlessly ram his car into walls of houses, restaurants, and even his own building –making a mess out of everything and creating satisfying clangs of crumpling metal everywhere, which, for some reason, reminds me of sitting back and enjoying a ferris wheel ride where I can also hear the chugging of metal.The Green Hornet is</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/6107958520233103523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=6107958520233103523&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6107958520233103523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6107958520233103523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2011/01/green-hornet-movie-review-i-liked-it.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_skQqMqUpXHA/TTnED5jy3bI/AAAAAAAAAF4/4p9xX1b_7nQ/s72-c/greenhornet_14-574x430.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-1865992921027143176</id><published>2010-12-10T11:40:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T11:59:45.952+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Meeting When It's Over But You Didn't Know ItI asked him to meet me so we can talk if for the last time in person cause I didn’t want to allow him to leave me with our last communication being coursed through an effing cellular phone.  He was already dissing me, not replying to my chat messages when I was scheduling our final date and then suddenly texting to say the date is on, only to make me </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1865992921027143176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=1865992921027143176&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/1865992921027143176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/1865992921027143176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/12/meeting-when-its-over-but-you-didnt.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-3022145737370661911</id><published>2010-12-04T21:22:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T11:51:40.481+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>First Yoga ExperienceMy friend Bogart enlisted me to attend a yoga class today. As we were running late 'coz I can't stop from stuffing myself with choco mousse and fried chicken at home, we briskly walked 3 blocks to the yoga place [which was said to be NEAR the MRT station but apparently NOT] under the 3pm sun AND briskly climbed three flights of stairs. Arriving to learn that the class had </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3022145737370661911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=3022145737370661911&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3022145737370661911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3022145737370661911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/12/first-yoga-experience-my-friend-bogart.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-3419247283932150837</id><published>2010-10-10T23:22:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-10T23:28:56.222+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Today in Glorietta, I was spending time alone when I saw a stuffed toy frog outside a toy store which made me stop and look. It reminded me of all the frog things I used to give someone special to me. [My pet name for him was “froggy”.] I held both the stuffed frog’s two hands, looked at its plastic eyes, squeezed one gently, and watched its tummy light up with words, then squeezed the other one </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3419247283932150837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=3419247283932150837&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3419247283932150837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3419247283932150837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/10/today-in-glorietta-i-was-spending-time_10.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_skQqMqUpXHA/TLHbkz8DtMI/AAAAAAAAAFs/bonCJ89EU3A/s72-c/LF+TAD+FRIEND.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-4818022509843762981</id><published>2010-09-01T23:23:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T23:30:44.345+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Despicable Me: a movie reviewDespicable Me is an animated movie about Gru, a character who reminds me of Mc Donald's Burglar because of their similar striped wear and common villainry.It features Gru's minions who are dead ringers for the Bananas In Pajamas and Doctor Nefario who reminds me of Krang.. and of a potato.Actually both the minions and Dr. Nefario remind me of potatoes. And the stubbly</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4818022509843762981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=4818022509843762981&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4818022509843762981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4818022509843762981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/09/despicable-me-movie-review-despicable.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-6924258778187206325</id><published>2010-08-13T01:11:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-13T17:03:56.411+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>There is no marriage proposal, no wearing of the perfect bridal gown, no exchange of vows, no releasing of doves, no toasting to the couple. All of these fancy preparations wouldn’t happen anymore. These thoughts flashed quickly in Juliet’s head as she lie in bed after giving herself completely to the man lying next to her. This has been it. Her Honeymoon. Tears poured down silently from her eyes</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/6924258778187206325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=6924258778187206325&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6924258778187206325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6924258778187206325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/08/there-is-no-marriage-proposal-no.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-5975193129319358565</id><published>2010-08-11T02:17:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T02:36:12.797+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Incurable ItchLast Saturday, I noticed some red blotches on my right thigh and leg which itches a bit so I put Katinko green balm on it. It didn’t seem to relieve the itchiness so on top of the Katinko, I put some white balm with Chinese characters I found on my parents’ dresser –which didn’t help either, then put some baby powder on top of it, then put some more Katinko to at least give the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5975193129319358565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=5975193129319358565&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/5975193129319358565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/5975193129319358565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/08/incurable-itch-last-saturday-i-noticed.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-6162119447294516621</id><published>2010-08-08T00:48:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-08T01:15:29.306+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>How the newly brokenhearted behave: An observationSingles who just got their heart broken usually get on by meeting and dating other persons. But what about those who are going through a dry spell and aren’t fortunate enough to meet someone who likes them back? A single person who has just been dumped or even the one who made the decision to walk away from a relationship is someone who has just </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/6162119447294516621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=6162119447294516621&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6162119447294516621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6162119447294516621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/08/how-newly-brokenhearted-behave.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-6204586108876102876</id><published>2010-08-07T16:53:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T23:58:36.632+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sealed smells are like taking photographs.'/><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I like bringing home smells with me. Like the smell of smoke on my clothes and hair when coming home from a night out with my friends [tamer and more tolerable]. Or the smell of the mall on my newly bought clothes. Or the smell of a relative’s house on the imported pasalubong she bought me from her home across the seas. And of course, the smell of my lover’s perfume on me after being with him.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/6204586108876102876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=6204586108876102876&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6204586108876102876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6204586108876102876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-like-bringing-home-smells-with-me.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-4195014289272375878</id><published>2010-07-10T17:10:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-07-10T18:27:42.626+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Choose to be brave than to be safeFalling asleep and waking up next to someone you love is one of the nicest feelings in the world. It’s something I would recommend for everyone to try; especially to those who are fond of sleeping or being with people they do not love. Most people –when asked to choose between sleeping with the one they love and the one who loves them–  would usually choose to </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4195014289272375878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=4195014289272375878&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4195014289272375878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4195014289272375878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/07/falling-asleep-and-waking-up-next-to.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-3604491369410294396</id><published>2010-05-31T08:14:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-31T08:30:18.737+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Heartbreak It's just so helpless. It comes when you least expect it, just when you had so much hope. And you believe. And you're giving it good. It comes at the middle of your highs. It wrecks your dreams. It's such a shame.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3604491369410294396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=3604491369410294396&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3604491369410294396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3604491369410294396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/05/heartbreak-its-just-so-helpless.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-6066160672348217482</id><published>2010-05-25T00:03:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-25T00:03:53.585+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>What were we thinking spending our last time with each other untouching, unfeeling, not understanding, unloving, standing our grounds, and basically undoing all our happier times together? Last times should be commemorated with extra care. Let there never be a last time not celebrated with tenderness, humanity and final courtesy.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/6066160672348217482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=6066160672348217482&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6066160672348217482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6066160672348217482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-were-we-thinking-spending-our-last.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-941467674447589170</id><published>2010-05-05T20:25:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T02:24:51.053+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I lost my Teddy Burr.***At the mall last week, a half-male half-female pudgy human being [?] deliberately stepped on my royal toes before promptly snapping at me angrily, “Pucha! Ha-harang-harang sa daan!” I gaped unbelievingly at its disappearing a-hole form before firing back obscenities at the person who’s sex is yet to be determined, and then stomping to my brother to complain.  “Tinapakan </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/941467674447589170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=941467674447589170&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/941467674447589170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/941467674447589170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-lost-my-teddy-burr.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_skQqMqUpXHA/S-FmM2RFpCI/AAAAAAAAAFU/rPUf-X7EOaY/s72-c/burr.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-4030205853748266545</id><published>2010-04-10T17:48:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-10T17:51:32.920+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='regret'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chris'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thinking of you'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love letter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationship'/><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Dear Chris, My boss who had knowledge about psychology took one look at me and said “You already met the love of your life. He’s everything you want in a man but you left him because you got bored.” I believe him. You will always be special to me. I have always thought that being chosen as a wife is the highest compliment a woman could ever receive in her life. The thrill of someone wanting to </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4030205853748266545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=4030205853748266545&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4030205853748266545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4030205853748266545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/04/dear-chris-my-boss-who-had-knowledge.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-5049395801955309590</id><published>2010-03-30T09:38:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-30T09:38:43.751+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I told you I didn't believe in love, but that's only because you were in love wit her.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5049395801955309590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=5049395801955309590&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/5049395801955309590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/5049395801955309590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-told-you-i-didnt-believe-in-love-but.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-6972791392817118972</id><published>2010-03-30T09:04:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-30T09:05:18.154+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>All the little miracles I never got to share with you.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/6972791392817118972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=6972791392817118972&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6972791392817118972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6972791392817118972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/03/all-little-miracles-i-never-got-to.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-8966811117253803831</id><published>2010-02-12T09:16:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-12T11:49:52.690+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The perfect words never crossed my mind,Cause there was nothin' in there but you.There you are standing right in front of meAll this fear falls away to leave me naked,Hold me close, cause I need you to guide me to safety.No, I won't wait foreverIn the confusion and the aftermath,You are my signal fire.The only resolution and the only joyNo, I won't wait forever --Snow Patrol</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8966811117253803831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=8966811117253803831&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/8966811117253803831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/8966811117253803831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/02/perfect-words-never-crossed-my-mind.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-8687009738543836348</id><published>2010-02-11T09:31:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-12T09:15:56.914+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Mighty glad we met... mighty glad you were born. Happy birthday, my dary!</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8687009738543836348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=8687009738543836348&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/8687009738543836348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/8687009738543836348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/02/mighty-glad-we-met-mighty-glad-you-were.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-1618773010160259545</id><published>2010-02-02T08:02:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-02T08:10:43.410+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>All I need is just one man to prove to me they're not all the same.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1618773010160259545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=1618773010160259545&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/1618773010160259545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/1618773010160259545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/02/all-i-need-is-just-one-man-to-prove-to.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-1571081213143607533</id><published>2010-02-01T09:11:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T09:11:48.975+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"What you say cuts me so deep. You think I wouldn't care but I put too much thought into it all. But once I give in, it's over. So you chase. Run faster. Or before you know it, I'm gone." - Eva Rusilowski</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1571081213143607533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=1571081213143607533&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/1571081213143607533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/1571081213143607533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/02/what-you-say-cuts-me-so-deep.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-2440908221165613720</id><published>2010-01-14T14:08:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T15:14:44.533+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The 25 funniest analogies1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a ThighMaster.2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.3. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2440908221165613720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=2440908221165613720&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2440908221165613720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2440908221165613720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/01/25-funniest-analogies-1.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-2808674874606567670</id><published>2010-01-04T19:51:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T20:10:30.129+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Women are always found guilty of trying to justify impulsive actions brought about by lust through falling in love. Not quite knowing how to handle any acts of intimacy that happen early between them and a man, women resort to the self-imposed punishment of falling in love,  subconsciously knowing that they will eventually get hurt by falling for a man that’s wrong for them. This, they think, is </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2808674874606567670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=2808674874606567670&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2808674874606567670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2808674874606567670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/01/women-are-always-found-guilty-of-trying.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-3011224618779121079</id><published>2010-01-01T19:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T19:37:52.740+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>As a person who loves to analyze and theorize about the human psyche, I came up with a few more theories about bois and gels in love. And these are:1.  Girls are the ones who always break up the relationship, usually because they want to feel more appreciation. Ergo, by doing this, they DO NOT meant for boys to agree and let them go. They want their boyfriends to refuse and fight for their love </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3011224618779121079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=3011224618779121079&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3011224618779121079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3011224618779121079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2010/01/as-person-who-loves-to-analyze-and.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-965047703249190368</id><published>2009-12-06T23:01:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-06T23:08:44.356+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>People want to know, Why, when you became a man, did your voice not change? Michael evolves his drag voice in order to keep singing Jackson 5 songs every night through puberty. The effect not so much castrated himself as womanized himself. --John Jeremiah Sullivan on Michael Jackson, GQ magazine September 2009</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/965047703249190368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=965047703249190368&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/965047703249190368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/965047703249190368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/12/people-want-to-know-why-when-you-became.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-7783326448115202711</id><published>2009-11-21T20:59:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-21T22:09:48.804+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I am an ENTP/Inventor.If y'all are fed up of zodiac signs, I've found a new way of determining compatibility for people through personality types. According to this test, I am an ENTP [Extraverted iNtuitive Thinking Perceiving].ENTPs are said to have enthusiastic interest in everything and always sensitive to possibilities, aside from being a non-conformist and innovative. Here's more from </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7783326448115202711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=7783326448115202711&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/7783326448115202711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/7783326448115202711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-am-entpinventor.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-7116647444144632332</id><published>2009-10-13T11:29:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T14:40:08.558+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I wish that I could be the one responsible for getting the love that I want.I wish that halfway through falling in love, I wouldn't find that he has already changed his mind to go after some girl who's braver than me. I wish that when I realize the value of a good man, I will have the courage to go after him. But I am just a girl.So I just cry.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7116647444144632332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=7116647444144632332&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/7116647444144632332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/7116647444144632332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-wish-that-i-could-be-one-responsible.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-371748231516260476</id><published>2009-08-12T14:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-12T14:52:09.975+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Wag kang susuko.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/371748231516260476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=371748231516260476&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/371748231516260476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/371748231516260476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/08/wag-kang-susuko.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-4101629860189203187</id><published>2009-06-23T22:57:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T23:14:42.439+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>My Extended SorryThe following are my extended apology to you, done in your name and for your forgiveness of me and hoping it somehow makes up for my discontinuance of eternity with you:•  Being nicer to my next relationship.•  Being more patient. •  Putting up with shit.Sometimes I know that I offer myself for abuse and attract jerks almost deliberately as penance for giving up on us, and even </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4101629860189203187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=4101629860189203187&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4101629860189203187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4101629860189203187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-extended-sorry-following-are-my.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_skQqMqUpXHA/SkDwBf-9jBI/AAAAAAAAAEk/Y7BWrZeJEZ0/s72-c/sorry.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-1600496576698146224</id><published>2009-06-23T22:45:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T11:55:35.706+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I recently took a Facebook quiz and was surprised that the results matched my Angel even if I did not say anything about the green color. Whoa!Here's what it said:5h1n3 took the Who is your Guardian Angel? quiz and the result is Raphael"Healing power of God", "The Divine has healed", "God heals" Hebrew word rapha means "doctor" or "healer". Raphael is a powerful healer and assists with all forms </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1600496576698146224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=1600496576698146224&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/1600496576698146224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/1600496576698146224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-recently-took-facebook-quiz-and-was.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-2063109804280699795</id><published>2009-06-23T22:26:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T22:36:31.386+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Hope it will find its way to you wherever you areLast night I found out that I still believe in my soul mate. Although the belief is not as great as it used to be, yesterday, after speaking to my Angel, I found myself thinking briefly about him and then composing and singing sad songs hoping it reaches him somehow. I know deep within me there’s a void only he can fill. I know there’s a chance I </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2063109804280699795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=2063109804280699795&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2063109804280699795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2063109804280699795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/06/hope-it-will-find-its-way-to-you.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_skQqMqUpXHA/SkDoSMHh-GI/AAAAAAAAAEc/IXLJMaD-YJE/s72-c/in+bed.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-4161341420399076263</id><published>2009-06-16T11:31:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T11:35:01.909+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Be Happy When Someone is Mad at YouIt's good to feel someone's anger cause it means that someone thought highly of you and it was you who let him/her down. It's more insulting when you've done something not up to standards and people will react neutrally cause they have expected you to fail.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4161341420399076263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=4161341420399076263&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4161341420399076263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4161341420399076263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/06/be-happy-when-someone-is-mad-at-you-its.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-8403598536585739257</id><published>2009-06-14T22:15:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T11:43:07.716+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;     Normal   0         false   false   false                             MicrosoftInternetExplorer4   &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;     &lt;![endif]--&gt; &lt;!--  /* Font Definitions */  @font-face 	{font-family:Garamond; 	panose-1:2 2 4 4 3 3 1 1 8 3; 	mso-font-charset:0; 	mso-generic-font-family:roman; 	mso-font-pitch:variable; 	mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;}  /* Style </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8403598536585739257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=8403598536585739257&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/8403598536585739257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/8403598536585739257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/06/normal-0-false-false-false.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_skQqMqUpXHA/SjUHJP2TziI/AAAAAAAAAEU/L1Ia1XFCCDk/s72-c/angelman.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-2018003182713555435</id><published>2009-06-05T23:01:00.009+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T23:49:14.549+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Kelly Clarksonthe Epitome of . . .Stressed SingingConstipated PleadingForehead- Knitting HardshipsMerciless Wailingand Inconsolable Anguish.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2018003182713555435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=2018003182713555435&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2018003182713555435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2018003182713555435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/06/kelly-clarkson-epitome-of.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_skQqMqUpXHA/Sik1lV4Uu3I/AAAAAAAAADc/3rJPzyoLkxs/s72-c/kellyclarkson1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-148855224314424195</id><published>2009-05-21T20:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T20:13:14.865+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> Miley Cyrus Ultrasounded</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/148855224314424195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=148855224314424195&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/148855224314424195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/148855224314424195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/05/miley-cyrus-ultrasounded.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_skQqMqUpXHA/ShVFFtw72iI/AAAAAAAAADU/SyqPacF2zfo/s72-c/ultrasound.jpg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-5288028621732844364</id><published>2009-05-18T01:43:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T03:54:52.435+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Some people find the absence of an upper lip an irresistible trait for a guy...</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5288028621732844364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=5288028621732844364&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/5288028621732844364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/5288028621732844364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/05/some-people-find-absence-of-upper-lip.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_skQqMqUpXHA/ShBrVCkMIqI/AAAAAAAAACM/AYClnsrEL1w/s72-c/jakecuenca.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-1133304126050474297</id><published>2009-05-06T00:15:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T00:18:09.690+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Daters a.k.a. the Blindfolded OnesWhilst nursing an insomnia which kept me up till 7am today [after going home at 4am], I recently realized how daters and everyone of us who are on the quest of finding their partners are really similar to blindfolded ones feeling their way uncertainly along life, finding their soul mates. When we meet someone, we aren’t aware that the person is wrong for us </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1133304126050474297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=1133304126050474297&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/1133304126050474297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/1133304126050474297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/05/daters.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_skQqMqUpXHA/SgBmdpFBC7I/AAAAAAAAACE/faWpuyII07c/s72-c/blindfolded.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-101589167546908031</id><published>2009-05-01T19:26:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T21:38:53.039+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Their Superhero This morn, at the early hour of 9am BT [Bum Time], I woke to the sounds of both progenitors alternately waking me up in manner of frantic house-is-burning hysteria. “What’s the matter?” I asked one of em in a voice thick with sleep through closed lids while I try to encourage my dream about sending letters to go on. “Hurry, we need you to press the right button! Things lost </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/101589167546908031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=101589167546908031&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/101589167546908031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/101589167546908031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/05/their-superhero-this-morn-at-early-hour.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_skQqMqUpXHA/Sfr26fhmWoI/AAAAAAAAABs/zEynZqiWUDg/s72-c/flex.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-2323802804139792553</id><published>2009-04-30T01:24:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T01:35:23.530+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Breaking Free of Things that Hold Me Down As God’s favourite child, I know that He gave me my goddess traits for a reason. He created me in His image for a reason. And although I have no way to determine if what I pick up on the way to my Ultimate Destination is good, bad or good but rotten inside, I know that I have the brainpower to put the bad things down immediately and to start looking </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2323802804139792553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=2323802804139792553&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2323802804139792553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2323802804139792553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/04/breaking-free-of-things-that-hold-me.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_skQqMqUpXHA/SfiO0yjJzGI/AAAAAAAAABk/jwPbtleNs38/s72-c/storm2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-2789160272575729454</id><published>2009-04-30T01:09:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T01:38:44.560+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Each time I happen to hear the landline ring and hear my mobile phone beep, I am being gracious to your persona which everyone but me has doubted. Every time I glance expectantly at the communication gadgets, I am raising the level of your individuality [which has failed me and broken my faith several times] to a height it may not deserve or to a courtesy which you may not be capable of. Only to </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2789160272575729454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=2789160272575729454&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2789160272575729454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2789160272575729454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/04/each-time-i-will-landline-to-ring-and.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-3851017059381812885</id><published>2009-04-29T20:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T20:27:29.976+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>To be a girl is to:Wait for the phone to ring on evenings and to talk to a sincere guy.Be fetched from home for a date, and most importantly, be securely escorted home from a date especially in the evenings.Receive flowers or other small tokens of appreciations.Be cuddled indulgently.Feel beautiful and to be made to feel even more beautiful.Be appreciated tremendously.Have someone listen to her </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3851017059381812885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=3851017059381812885&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3851017059381812885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3851017059381812885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/04/to-be-girl-is-to-wait-for-phone-to-ring.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-5259187844633737417</id><published>2009-04-28T21:07:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T21:27:33.274+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The reason a man would lie and mistreat a woman that is good to himAccording to http://help.com/post/234488-can-anyone-tell-me-the-reason-a-man is because:He may not value any relationship. He can not commit so each relationship is just a means to an end. He is just in it for what he can get out. He expects every one to do their part except for himself. He has a false sense of manhood and </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5259187844633737417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=5259187844633737417&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/5259187844633737417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/5259187844633737417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/04/reason-man-would-lie-and-mistreat-woman.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-7788092193257868325</id><published>2009-04-23T11:25:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T12:06:22.076+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>So touched by Katy Perry's Thinking Of You video...</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7788092193257868325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=7788092193257868325&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/7788092193257868325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/7788092193257868325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/04/so-touched-by-katy-perrys-thinking-of.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_skQqMqUpXHA/Se_ozaTbkQI/AAAAAAAAABc/LUc6eaJONzk/s72-c/thinkingofyoutoo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-1539922933386158361</id><published>2009-04-09T01:20:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T01:23:44.064+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Someone asked me when to cry? This is my answer:You shed tears when you lose someone good to you and you're the one to blame. Otherwise, you just realize you have been keeping trash, throw it away, and get annoyed for the waste of time and inconvenience caused.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1539922933386158361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=1539922933386158361&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/1539922933386158361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/1539922933386158361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/04/someone-asked-me-when-to-cry-this-is-my.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-3067590856350168154</id><published>2009-04-05T00:32:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T20:29:40.216+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>She may not know it but every time she sleeps, her soul temporarily leaves her body to travel to a dimension where souls go when their bodies sleep. It is at this place where souls meet their soul mates to be together which they forget about when they go back to their bodies and wake up. It is where she converses everyday with the person closest to her heart, where she makes sure to find him </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3067590856350168154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=3067590856350168154&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3067590856350168154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3067590856350168154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/04/she-may-not-know-it-but-every-time-she.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_skQqMqUpXHA/Sdija3K5DCI/AAAAAAAAABM/fwVNNMPJVI8/s72-c/soulm8s.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-4120015504145033741</id><published>2009-03-26T20:17:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T20:22:47.445+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Battle of the Bums Chapter 2When you are a bum and have nothing to do in your time, it is easy to think-think-think. Think of all the Things Lacking In Your Life, Think of how to Amuse Self with Low Funds, and most of all: Think of Ways to Quarrel with Other People by means of Thinking and Dwelling on Other People’s Flaws. So what happens when a bum co-habits wit another bum? They fight </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4120015504145033741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=4120015504145033741&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4120015504145033741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4120015504145033741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/03/battle-of-bums-chapter-2-when-you-are.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-1303597402376597857</id><published>2009-03-26T20:15:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T00:35:08.617+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Thank God for Friends.I don’t think I have ever properly appreciated my friends. My friends do the wonderful job of looking after me when they know that I don’t do it too well for myself.There are my AKB Sisters –who, like fairy godmothers- tsk tsk at me disapprovingly and discuss among themselves my most recent foolishness in Yahoo Conference as if I’m not there myself, and scold me in unison </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1303597402376597857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=1303597402376597857&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/1303597402376597857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/1303597402376597857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/03/thank-god-for-friends.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-7236165186885853300</id><published>2009-03-19T09:51:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T23:47:24.214+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>For the special person I chose not so long ago,The ff. are the things you do that make me smile:never failing to call me those first few timesmissing me and calling a couple of times even when you're out on a despedida gimik with friendsthe way you languidly relish each hug I give youthe crying sound you make when you miss me or when I pretend to walk away from youyour blunt way of analyzing </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7236165186885853300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=7236165186885853300&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/7236165186885853300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/7236165186885853300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/03/for-special-person-i-chose-not-so-long.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-3785631992461681929</id><published>2009-03-10T11:32:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T12:12:11.314+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A Letter to the New OwnerTo Whom It May Concern;My Dell Latitude D630 was just four weeks old when I took him under my care. I gently broke him in [and he me as he taught me how to be mouse-less], lovingly half-filled him with my files, entrusted my favorite mp3s, shared my private chat conversations, took minutes with him, browsed favorite sites with him, and personalized him with previous work </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3785631992461681929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=3785631992461681929&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3785631992461681929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3785631992461681929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/03/letter-to-new-owner-to-whom-it-may.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_skQqMqUpXHA/SbXofaEsIzI/AAAAAAAAAA8/gaPtugc72Ew/s72-c/10032009151.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-8914140047358226127</id><published>2009-03-10T11:32:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T11:34:48.908+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reminiscing former work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='remembering old employer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nostalgic old office'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='embassy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nostalgia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mtv'/><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Passing by my former MTV office, it is blasphemous for me to see no trace of my lovely, lovely MTV office and to find this in place…</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8914140047358226127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=8914140047358226127&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/8914140047358226127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/8914140047358226127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/03/passing-by-my-former-mtv-office-it-is.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_skQqMqUpXHA/SbXfySH_4-I/AAAAAAAAAAs/ahIHE-GN-00/s72-c/emba.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-7783579979221298946</id><published>2009-03-04T00:12:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T00:34:27.760+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>When I turn awayIt is usually because I feel smallWhen I feel smallWrap your arms around meAnd make me feel beautifulI will waitTill you make me Big again</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7783579979221298946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=7783579979221298946&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/7783579979221298946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/7783579979221298946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/03/when-i-turn-away-it-is-usually-because.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-5712514873848264056</id><published>2009-02-02T02:37:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T02:40:56.777+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> It is funny how, at the first stages of love or when people have fallen in love, they instinctively try to protect themselves from hurts they might experience by conjuring up problems and thinking as negatively as possible [e.g. preparing to get left behind by the loved one, torturing self through various sado-masochist fantasies where the loved one either reconciles with an ex, is suddenly </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5712514873848264056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=5712514873848264056&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/5712514873848264056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/5712514873848264056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/02/it-is-funny-how-at-first-stages-of-love.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_skQqMqUpXHA/SYXsj0eOdZI/AAAAAAAAAAk/IYsHF-rAUTg/s72-c/viking_shield_wall_big.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-8162036299340306958</id><published>2009-01-12T01:08:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T11:54:15.933+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The following post is for my UNGAS, EMO fren call'd BOI PIKET [para sa matinding dinadala mo, bro!]The difference between bois and gels in the middle of dating:Gels tend to think that everything is going too FAST. That a man's emotions is getting left behind by his actions and therefore needs some catching up before they should proceed. Meaning both emotions should be clearly sorted out, that tha</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8162036299340306958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=8162036299340306958&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/8162036299340306958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/8162036299340306958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/01/difference-between-bois-and-gels-in.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-8469002036892656193</id><published>2009-01-03T22:59:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-04T00:09:07.381+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>No matter what, I want to continue living with the awareness that I will die. Without that, I am not alive. - Banana Yoshimoto</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8469002036892656193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=8469002036892656193&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/8469002036892656193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/8469002036892656193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2009/01/no-matter-what-i-want-to-continue.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-7094450432477754962</id><published>2008-12-29T02:54:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T01:06:20.017+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>What is 26 to me?26, the age I’ve been for 2008 means a lot of things to me. And these include:Breaking up with my 1st boyfriend.Realizing that I juz don’t party as hard anymore and I’d rather catch the now precious zzz’s. Although I’ve seen this coming at 25, now I feel much stronger about my zzz’s. Three years ago, Fridays for me must be spent dancing &amp; staying up till 7am at bars for I feel </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7094450432477754962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=7094450432477754962&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/7094450432477754962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/7094450432477754962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/12/what-is-26-to-me-26-age-ive-been-for.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-6059743733555637782</id><published>2008-12-22T00:38:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T23:50:44.776+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A letter from my brother when i turned 1 at the hospital with measlesMaver found this old spotted letter written on a 1/2 crosswise pad by my baby-sitting grandma as dictated by my brother when he was 3 [and much kinder] and I was 1 and in the hospital:Dear SASHA,Sana gumaling ka na. Dear Sasha. Laro tayo. Hindi na kita susuntukin at bubuntalin, sana uminom ka na ng gamot para gumaling ka. Sana </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/6059743733555637782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=6059743733555637782&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6059743733555637782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6059743733555637782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/12/letter-from-my-brother-when-i-turned-1.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-5883683476831835065</id><published>2008-12-18T22:04:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-19T14:29:20.431+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The last time we were here, we were on our last date together. I held you with tenderness because I knew I was letting you go. Today I marvel at the wonder of being in the same room. There's a hollowness at the pit of my stomach you have caused. This strange hollowness continues even as we fixate ourselves on other people and we don't really bother each other. A strange hollowness, which, I found</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5883683476831835065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=5883683476831835065&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/5883683476831835065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/5883683476831835065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/12/last-time-we-were-here-we-were-on-our.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-5978004767468517759</id><published>2008-12-14T18:29:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T18:30:59.103+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I am beginning to love the sound of your laugh. Which is not good. Not good at all.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5978004767468517759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=5978004767468517759&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/5978004767468517759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/5978004767468517759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-am-beginning-to-love-sound-of-your.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-3522419871021592048</id><published>2008-11-13T22:35:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T00:52:53.699+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Leaving you in my sleepWe were together. I was giving myself to you like I've never done to anyone before. My hundred percent being - solidly and exclusively for you. Others had just gotten parts. It was a connection so totally contrasting to our clashes of pride and exchange of hurting words that it was hauntingly, touchingly beautiful. So beautiful that you turn'd your back to me abruptly. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3522419871021592048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=3522419871021592048&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3522419871021592048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3522419871021592048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/11/we-were-together.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-2302910214393605562</id><published>2008-10-20T01:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T01:08:27.076+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Lose Ambition In LoveWhen I love, I am not ambitious. I don’t go dreaming about other men who could be Kinder. Richer. Gentler. Handsomer. More Fun. More Mature. I become content for One. I love exclusively and only for that single person whom my heart has already hailed King. I think I t is important to lose ambition when in love. When you are with someone and you want to marry that person then </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2302910214393605562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=2302910214393605562&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2302910214393605562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2302910214393605562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/10/lose-ambition-in-love-when-i-love-i-am.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-7549575181627936449</id><published>2008-10-20T01:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T01:07:07.808+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Random assesment of yours truly from Bestfriend Allan:1.       Sabi sayo me pasok ka ng Sabado eh! [When I told him I have a coverage one Saturday]2.       Naniwala ka kaya dun! Pag nagbibigay ka ng oras, naniniwala ka! Eh kinakausap mo eh! [After I denied believing the sincerity/intentions of a suitor who work’d in Malacanang]3.       Pumatol ka kasi sa cute! Mga pinapatulan mo mga mukhang </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7549575181627936449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=7549575181627936449&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/7549575181627936449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/7549575181627936449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/10/random-assesment-of-yours-truly-from.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-46944563071725514</id><published>2008-10-20T00:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T00:59:43.594+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I will not go out, much less have a relationship wit:1. Boylets who call me "babe". [I do not enjoy it any more than they do bein' call'd a boylet]2. Boys whom I don't really know yet.3. Boys who act "weird" by behaving like #1; act libidinous; acting annoyingly flirty thru superficial kumaen ka na/mwah/ingat/et. al text msgs.4. Boys who are chasing 2 "rabbits". [when you chase 2, you’ll never </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/46944563071725514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=46944563071725514&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/46944563071725514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/46944563071725514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-will-not-go-out-much-less-have.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-6896416600825801490</id><published>2008-10-18T13:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T13:07:18.348+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Thought I couldn't live without youIt's gonna hurt when it heals tooIt'll all get better in timeAnd even though I really love youI'm gonna smile cause I deserve toIt'll all get better in time                           --Leona Lewis</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/6896416600825801490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=6896416600825801490&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6896416600825801490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6896416600825801490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/10/thought-i-couldnt-live-without-you-its.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-6364741244584686444</id><published>2008-10-02T09:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T09:03:50.200+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ResigningFor the duration of a hundred days, I've given you good dreams every night, kept you safe from harm, gave you good vibes, given you my favorite cloud, shielded you with my wings, even gave you a grace period of 45 more days since we stopp'd speakin. But now it's time I take a new charge under my wings. Please quell your lunatic child of God thoughts and be good on your own. I am letting </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/6364741244584686444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=6364741244584686444&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6364741244584686444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6364741244584686444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/10/resigning-for-duration-of-hundred-days.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-2770265342522038478</id><published>2008-09-02T12:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T12:19:42.665+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Falling like a leaf, falling like a star Finding a belief, falling where you are...</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2770265342522038478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=2770265342522038478&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2770265342522038478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2770265342522038478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/09/falling-like-leaf-falling-like-star.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-6464765027452645618</id><published>2008-09-01T03:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T15:13:31.053+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Eraserheads concert erased half-wayAt 6:30 pm, Yaya called me to tell me that yes, he is now at Meeting Point Ayala MRT station, and that he just remembered he forgot tha tickets because he changed bags. Never tha type of person who gits stressd @ being late or tha realization of gettin' late for sumthin', I firmly told yaya that no, I won't go ahead and meet him at tha Fort Open Field [hell </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/6464765027452645618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=6464765027452645618&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6464765027452645618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6464765027452645618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/eraserheads-concert-erased-half-way-at.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-4736128636169814924</id><published>2008-08-30T12:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T10:18:02.636+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Bois &amp; gels, Relate! I just did. Thank you, Steve Martin! Excerpts from his bestselling book, Shopgirl:He is on the prowl. He does not know her, he has only seen her. He has responded to something visceral. He only imagines the character that unites her clothes, her skin, and her body. He has imagined the pleasure of touching her. She is a feminine object that tweaks him at his animal best. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4736128636169814924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=4736128636169814924&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4736128636169814924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4736128636169814924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/bois-gels-relate-i-just-did.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-2714923878916466400</id><published>2008-08-26T12:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T12:36:01.946+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Handling a call center account is coming home just in time for your morning bowel movement.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2714923878916466400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=2714923878916466400&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2714923878916466400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2714923878916466400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/handling-call-center-account-is-coming.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-3953475214296590662</id><published>2008-08-26T11:44:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-27T13:16:29.144+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I should be gettin' out of ma comfort zone. Tis is wut ma new shrink told me as I told him I was feelin’ a bit down and insecure 'bout ma'self lately. Like mebbe am not acting fully to wut should have been ma worth. Stop sulking and rebelling! Act and make things happen!, said tha shrink. So gettin' out of ma comfort zone, I am. I started by re-locating work stations @ tha office yet again to ma </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3953475214296590662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=3953475214296590662&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3953475214296590662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3953475214296590662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-should-be-gettin-out-of-ma-comfort.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-4439653905471165955</id><published>2008-08-21T09:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T18:12:15.667+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A month and a half is over.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4439653905471165955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=4439653905471165955&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4439653905471165955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4439653905471165955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/month-and-half-is-over.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-1058957396754178943</id><published>2008-08-21T07:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T18:12:03.808+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>“It's him.” I say to myself and to everyone who has ears, excited and full of hope. I have met tha man who weakens me. Tha heart has chosen, reason broken. So special was he, I wanted to steal a kiss on his neck, tha nearest part of him, as he slept next to me on tha way home in tha jeep after our first kiss. So special was he, I resist impulses to hug him in public when we meet. So special, I </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1058957396754178943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=1058957396754178943&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/1058957396754178943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/1058957396754178943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/its-him.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-6235888091738691011</id><published>2008-08-17T21:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T21:13:38.423+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Dating wisdom quotables from Carol Wolper:Any guy who doesn’t call the next day is a skank.Let your mantra be “next”.Mr. Never’s idea of a commitment is a three-day weekend.If dating applies some agreed upon pattern… an assumption of consistency, then no, I ‘m not dating.The only faithfulness people have is toward emotions they are trying to re-create.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/6235888091738691011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=6235888091738691011&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6235888091738691011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6235888091738691011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/dating-wisdom-quotables-from-carol_17.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-6621716637669456296</id><published>2008-08-17T20:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T21:12:44.747+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>“I try to talk to you, but I don't know what to say. I am afraid you don't want me to say anything. So I don't. But inside of me there are words waiting to come out. And tell you how I feel-like how I miss you. And how I love you despite my broken heart.”</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/6621716637669456296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=6621716637669456296&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6621716637669456296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/6621716637669456296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/dating-wisdom-quotables-from-carol.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-856738713607613373</id><published>2008-08-15T23:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-15T23:28:39.605+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I give you back your heart. I give you permission. She is the sum of yourself and your dreams. Approach her like a monument, step after step. She is solid. She is your have to have. As for me, I am watercolor. I wash off. --Anne Sexton</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/856738713607613373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=856738713607613373&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/856738713607613373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/856738713607613373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-give-you-back-your-heart.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-482694742263443393</id><published>2008-08-12T18:11:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T18:31:06.635+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>One little tip for tha regular Internet dependent guy: Never ever make pa-cute, sad puppy dog declarations of unrequitted love to tha gurl you're still pining for on ym/friendster/facebook/what-have-you current means of staying in touch through public postings like shoutouts/status msgs/bulletin posts/blogs if you plan to keep on dating/sleep wit another gurl who's on tha same networking site </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/482694742263443393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=482694742263443393&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/482694742263443393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/482694742263443393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/one-little-tip-for-tha-regular-internet.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-3041539617759928959</id><published>2008-08-11T11:57:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T11:59:58.995+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>When I was hanging out wit you, I was going through a bad time. Very insecure, very needy. It worked out for you. But now, I feel better. Closer to tha top of my game. Trust me, you don't wanna hang out wit tha new me. Don't call me 'til I'm weak and insecure again.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3041539617759928959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=3041539617759928959&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3041539617759928959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3041539617759928959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/when-i-was-hanging-out-wit-you-i-was.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-3839149695387619360</id><published>2008-08-07T14:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T14:16:57.034+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>When we were together I was blown awayJust like paper from a fanBut you would act like I was just a kidLike we were never gonna lastNow Ive got someone who cares for meHe wrote my name in silver sandsI think you know youve lost the love of your life(and you said) I was the best youve ever hadBecause Im in demandYoure thinking of the way you shoulda held my handAnd all the times you said you didnt</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3839149695387619360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=3839149695387619360&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3839149695387619360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3839149695387619360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/when-we-were-together-i-was-blown.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-3194324804902481950</id><published>2008-08-03T17:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T13:37:38.157+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Lazy people doomed to bachelorhood/spinsterhoodWhy being dynamic can even be more important than being faithful in a relationshipIt has juz dawn'd on me that tha passive, lazy, people of tis earth has no chance of winning in love as compared to their more go-getting, dynamic rivals. Just take a look at scenarios of couples that've been together for years and years. One of em will usually git </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3194324804902481950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=3194324804902481950&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3194324804902481950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3194324804902481950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/lazy-people-doomed-to.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-2682221193685693730</id><published>2008-07-31T19:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-07-31T19:14:59.284+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>You have dug something deep within me and it's getting deeper and deeper, making the space for others smaller as it grows... even if you're not really mine and not really here wit me. I'm helpless as I watch this space you're creating grow, making it hollower by tha second, and could only pray that God give me the strength I need when tha time comes that you'll leave me wit all tha empty hollow </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2682221193685693730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=2682221193685693730&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2682221193685693730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2682221193685693730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/you-have-dug-something-deep-within-me.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-9045788791345631681</id><published>2008-07-14T11:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T11:27:13.276+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I used to pride myself for waking up right on alarm and never ever snoozing my cellphone to spend a few more minutes in bed, like most people do. When my ex and I broke up, I started acting like everyone else and had begun acquiring tha habit of snoozing my alarm even up to 4 times, thus waking up juz around lunch time and being late for work. Two weeks ago, for tha first time in my life since we</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/9045788791345631681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=9045788791345631681&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/9045788791345631681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/9045788791345631681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/i-used-to-pride-myself-for-waking-up.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-298897739626854215</id><published>2008-07-09T16:53:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T16:53:47.219+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>time for a re-post!Wut is a PETER PAN SYNDROME? PPS or Peter Pans, according to Dan Diley are men who have NEVER GROWN UP or REFUSE TO GROW UP. Dan said that those wit PPS are men who: -&gt; are more keen on bein’ friendly to mere acquaintances than in showin’ love &amp; concern fo’ tha family -&gt; use “I don’t know” and “I don’t care” as their defense mechanisms. -&gt; have social incapacity &amp; emotional </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/298897739626854215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=298897739626854215&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/298897739626854215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/298897739626854215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/time-for-re-post-wut-is-peter-pan.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-4076614059240787415</id><published>2008-05-21T15:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T15:49:14.610+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Sorry we did not reach our dreamsTwin boys Dylan &amp; Ulrich. A baby girl called Mischka. A copper-themed wedding. The mac&amp;cheese meals I'll cook for him. Tha hundreds of mango pana cotta desserts I could create for him. Eternity wit him. I'm sorry we could no longer make it possible. Bad circumstances got in tha way...</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4076614059240787415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=4076614059240787415&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4076614059240787415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4076614059240787415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/05/sorry-we-did-not-reach-our-dreams-twin.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-2871302236479123087</id><published>2008-05-21T11:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T15:30:25.468+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>What will you do if you see your ex in public?I'll hug him because he used to be a big, if not the biggest part of my life. He will always be someone important and shall my friends or family try to trash him or badmuth him, i'll simply say: "He's a man I used to love. In place of that love, I'd like to give him the respect that is due to him so please please respect him not for wut he is today or</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2871302236479123087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=2871302236479123087&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2871302236479123087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/2871302236479123087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/05/what-will-you-do-if-you-see-your-ex-in.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-4181670766761885782</id><published>2008-05-21T11:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T11:01:00.401+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>For tha pangs of pain, for tha difficult transition from getting so used to being half a couple back to living everyday life alone, for getting drunk on sleeping, for walking slowly wit ma soul trailing behind, for helpless things and places that remind, for all these things and more… it is with difficulty that I obstruct myself from running into your arms. But I know there’s no relaxation of the</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4181670766761885782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=4181670766761885782&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4181670766761885782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/4181670766761885782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/05/for-tha-pangs-of-pain-for-tha-difficult.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-8571523281100404029</id><published>2008-04-16T16:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T13:43:31.954+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Symptoms of an Ex:Congratulations! You are now officially an Ex! Expect these symptoms anytime soon:1. Asking friends to search through their circle of friends and refer you to the single, "good" ones.2. Regularly checking your ex's ym status, friendster shoutout, profile, etc. to see if there's something about you.3. Getting urges to inform your Ex that you're sick hoping to draw out some </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8571523281100404029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=8571523281100404029&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/8571523281100404029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/8571523281100404029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/04/symptoms-of-ex-congratulations-you-are.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3628040.post-3054994870451182007</id><published>2008-04-16T16:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T16:44:21.804+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Not fairMy gay Literature professor Ralph Galan once said that it is not fair to be a woman for we just get to choose our partners from the men who will choose us. Meanwhile, men can choose their partners from all the women in the world. Moving on from a break-up is similar. If you’re a guy and you can pick girls easily, then it will be just as easy to enter another relationship with a girl and </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3054994870451182007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3628040&amp;postID=3054994870451182007&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3054994870451182007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3628040/posts/default/3054994870451182007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spotmyblog.blogspot.com/2008/04/not-fair-my-gay-literature-professor.html' title=''/><author><name>5h1n3!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01792866783182327274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
