<?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-9922094</id><updated>2011-09-17T19:36:42.251+08:00</updated><title type='text'>:: moi world ::</title><subtitle type='html'>a broken angel trying to find herself again</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>151</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-116842540895716218</id><published>2007-01-10T20:36:00.000+09:00</published><updated>2007-01-10T19:37:01.890+09:00</updated><title type='text'>sex, lies and betrayal</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;2007 for me did not start with a good note.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I found out things I wished I did not. I spent my New Year's Eve with W and the girl he's dating. Not his girlfriend according to him but he's sleeping with her. How awkward was that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Grr...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And he confessed he's been dating other girls even before we broke up. So at the end we're even.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I feel stupid for feeling guilty all the while and I don't know which so-called friend of ours told him about me cheating on him when he/she doesn't know W has been doing the same.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Our relationship ended with a pretty fair ending. We've both cried, we've both laughed, feeling angry and sad whenever this subject was brought up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He said I should move on for my own good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I've already moved on two years ago, darling.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It's just that I love playing the part of being the victim. Just because to get back at you for saying you've tried so hard to save our relationship when in reality it was just a big lie to cover yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-116842540895716218?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/116842540895716218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=116842540895716218&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/116842540895716218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/116842540895716218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2007/01/sex-lies-and-betrayal.html' title='sex, lies and betrayal'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-116600936971135052</id><published>2006-12-13T20:18:00.000+09:00</published><updated>2006-12-13T20:31:31.973+09:00</updated><title type='text'>i dislike you, you and you...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I HATE rude people in general. Wherever I go, I always seem to bump into them. Okay, it was since last week. For example, last nite a customer from hell came into the restaurant. I was helping out second mum. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;CFH: Do you have skim milk? Don't tell me you still DON'T have it. I want skim milk with my coffee!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Me: Sorry, we only use Hi-Lo milk. Hi-Lo is skimmed anyway. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;CFH: Now, you're wrong. You could be sue under Trade regulations Act yada yada for making that statement. You know I could sue you for saying that? Hi-Lo milk is not skim milk!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Me: I didn't say Hi-Lo milk is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;skim milk&lt;/span&gt;. I said &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;it is skimmed&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;CFH refused to listen and continue to blab and threatened to sue me and that he was right and how great he was to prove a point to me that he was right. I was like... whatever. Go for it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And he just stormed out. Bleh. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-116600936971135052?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/116600936971135052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=116600936971135052&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/116600936971135052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/116600936971135052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/12/i-dislike-you-you-and-you.html' title='i dislike you, you and you...'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-116420212492584343</id><published>2006-11-22T21:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-22T21:39:54.603+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i'm a super shopaholic</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This is the only time of the year that I can't control myself no matter how I try to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;During the &lt;b&gt;David Jones&lt;/b&gt; two day sale last weekend, I managed to get the heels I've been eyeing for since last month. I thought there wouldn't be anymore sale at DJ till Boxing Day which isn't gonna help anyway because I'm going for another vacation and it's 25% off! I saved quite a lot of money so I'm one happy girl. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Anyway, &lt;b&gt;Myer&lt;/b&gt; is having a one day sale this Friday and I can't wait. I'm eyeing a new ipod (I'm a nano girl!) and no, not the pink one! The ipod won't go on sale but the accessories would so it's a good bargain I reckon. DJ had the same promo too last weekend but since they didn't approve my credit card (the sales girl convinced me as long as I meet all 4 criterias they had, I'd be fine)... I bought the heels there because &lt;b&gt;Myer&lt;/b&gt; doesn't carry that particular designer range. Maybe because they think my financial situation isn't glam enough for them which doesn't make sense because it says as long as the applicant earn above $20K p.a.? The only reason I wanted the card is because I wanna know the promos firsthand. Pfft! The only place I'd put myself in debt is the institution called the daddy so I do not understand why my application got rejected. Boo hoo. I still can't believe it. I have pride too and I feel so rejected, as though I'm not good enough for them. You know where am I coming from? No?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Back to &lt;b&gt;Myer&lt;/b&gt; upcoming sale, I'm after a couple of perfumes and some new bags and clutches too. And shoes. I saw a pair of black slip on heels which I wouldn't pay full price for but if they're 50% then why not? And 40% off RRP all books! Wohoo!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Oh God, I still haven't fully recovered from the time I walked out from &lt;i&gt;Alannah Hill&lt;/i&gt; spending over $1K last month and additional $380 during their clearance sale last week. But thank God, no more debts. Phew...And no, I'm not buying &lt;i&gt;Alannah Hill&lt;/i&gt; stuff ever again. Some of them were cutesy little gifts for my sisters and baby cousin (she's 12 but to me, always a baby!). Did I also mentioned I bought 3 watches since I'm going away on holiday and conveniently donated money to the duty free store. I still have one of the watches on lay-by. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;That's it. No more shopping till June. Oh, this of course excludes any work clothes and a spanking new digi cam. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-116420212492584343?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/116420212492584343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=116420212492584343&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/116420212492584343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/116420212492584343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/11/today-im-super-shopaholic.html' title='today i&apos;m a super shopaholic'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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-9922094.post-116392924478919095</id><published>2006-11-20T01:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T01:26:51.010+08:00</updated><title type='text'>tonight i've finally let him go</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;W and I haven't really officially call off our relationship despite the fact that it was over even before we realized it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;We have finally let go the very thing that we've shared for the past six years. It's been beautiful all these while but knowing that we've changed so much in the past couple of years that things cannot simply be like the way it used to be. From the moment &lt;a href="http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/05/love-that-was-never-mine.html"&gt;Ell&lt;/a&gt; walked into my life, my feelings for W has never been quite the same again. My heart has found its way to let &lt;i&gt;Ell&lt;/i&gt; go but with W it's just not as simple as a summer fling.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Tonight, I feel a sense of loss which is indescribable. After you've been with someone for that long, having loved that person for who he is, it just seem that breaking up is the last thing to be expected yet when two souls no longer has that connection, there's no point holding on to it just for the sake of holding on thinking that it would eventually be revive. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I smile when you told me that I'll always be your soulmate because there is no one in this world who understands you as much as I do. You will always be that special someone to me too, darling.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-116392924478919095?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/116392924478919095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=116392924478919095&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/116392924478919095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/116392924478919095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/11/tonight-ive-finally-let-him-go.html' title='tonight i&apos;ve finally let him go'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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-9922094.post-116139529756900090</id><published>2006-10-21T09:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-21T09:48:17.600+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i believe most people are ignorant</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I really do not know what have this world comes to. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I never fail to notice that most people sitting on the seats clearly labelled &lt;i&gt;Priority Seatings&lt;/i&gt; do not carry a child, pregnant, disabled or having a single strand of grey hair or wrinkles on the face. Look, even if you're 45 years old, you're not consider old GET IT?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst offenders are kids in their 20s. The most ironic part is, most of the time, there were plenty of seats at the back. So hard really does it takes a clearly healthy person to walk to the back of the bus. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Yesterday, I saw this lady parked her big bum on one of the &lt;i&gt;priority seats&lt;/i&gt; next to her mum who is clearly not even old. So an old man board the bus and it was obvious the man has restriction when it comes to walking yet she didn't move or even offer him the seat. Instead the old man is forced to take a seat all the way at the back. And guess what? Both the lady and her mother were just getting off after a few stops in CBD area. &lt;i&gt;Do you know really need a seat to begin with?&lt;/i&gt; Shame on you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Anyway, the situation is worst back in Malaysia and Singapore. One of my friends relate this story to me when she was working in Singapore and back then when she was 6 months pregnant with her first child, no one would actually offer her a seat most of the time whenever she takes public transport &lt;i&gt;unless&lt;/i&gt; she asked for it. God! Especially guys, I cannot stand it if guys just pretend that a pregnant woman does not exist. How ungentlemanly is that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Okay, it's shopping time. Yippie! (I know it's totally unrelated with this post but just so because shopping makes me happy!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-116139529756900090?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/116139529756900090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=116139529756900090&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/116139529756900090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/116139529756900090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/10/today-i-believe-most-people-are.html' title='today i believe most people are ignorant'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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-9922094.post-116084689712270813</id><published>2006-10-15T01:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-15T01:30:20.560+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i shop for christmas outfit</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I was meant to find a black high heels for work and I ended up trotting into &lt;i&gt;Alannah Hill&lt;/i&gt; and got myself a cocktail dress instead. Yippie!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;All I need now is a matching heels and clutch in gold. Spend more money again buying unnecessary stuff but the dress is so gorgeous I feel so happy just by looking at it. I'm really &lt;b&gt;not&lt;/b&gt; a big fan of &lt;i&gt;Alannah Hill&lt;/i&gt;. She has all this flowery wacky colour combination prints and beads and what not but her chiffony items are actually quite eye candy like,  hence my dress. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So tomorrow, I'm back on my black high heels hunt. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Wish me luck because I most certainly need it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Goodnight!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-116084689712270813?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/116084689712270813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=116084689712270813&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/116084689712270813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/116084689712270813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/10/today-i-shop-for-christmas-outfit.html' title='today i shop for christmas outfit'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-116020294056039696</id><published>2006-10-09T13:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T01:43:41.696+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i heart suzy smith</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Whee!!! I finally got myself a huge ass black bag, although it's not a tote. It's a large hobo with gold studs and hardware for the very affordable price of $89.95. The only downside is, it's not leather. Which means it wouldn't last as long if I'm gonna use it as a &lt;i&gt;trash around bag&lt;/i&gt;. I'm beaming right now if you could see me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Anyway, I'm close to bankruptcy right now but I need some new shoes and work clothes. And bags. Okay, not necessarily bags because I've just received two on my birthday. I'm saving money for a new digicam and mobile phone. I need about $1000 for both of them. My sisters birthday are coming up. I am thinking of getting a Tiffany sterling silver necklace for the youngest one and a tote bag for uni for the older one. So that's roughly about $600. And Christmas... Can I just disappear during the Christmas period? Hohoho...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And I need to save enough for my Europe trip next year when sis is studying in London. UGH. But at least it's not till September. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I really don't know how can I save money unless I'm earning a huge ass salary which I'm not (I'm STILL sitting below $40K p.a.). Or swiping Pa's credit card which has been lying somewhere in the drawer. Pa is getting older and I should be the one giving him pocket money instead of the other way round. Or buying clothes from &lt;i&gt;Target&lt;/i&gt; which I'll never ever wear. First of all, It's not &lt;i&gt;US Target&lt;/i&gt;. You don't get &lt;i&gt;Isaac Mizrahi&lt;/i&gt; stuff. And secondly, the quality of some of the products are quite shittie and over-priced. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I also have this bad habit of needing matching shoes or accessories or whatever if I buy a certain item and I'll go hunt and look for the matching accessories and ended up spending more money. For example, I got a red bag as a pressie and I'm looking for a pair of red shoes (Saw a pair of red suede flats in &lt;i&gt;Zomp&lt;/i&gt; for $90) before I could use the bag. I really can die living like this because I just simply can't walk out with mis-matched outfit. So tell me, how can I save money unless I go stark naked? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-116020294056039696?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/116020294056039696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=116020294056039696&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/116020294056039696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/116020294056039696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/10/today-i-heart-suzy-smith.html' title='today i heart suzy smith'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-115993602452681535</id><published>2006-10-04T12:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-04T12:32:47.826+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i feel like killing max brenner too</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Isn't it funny how &lt;a href="http://www.maxbrenner.com.au"&gt;Max Brenner&lt;/a&gt; doesn't always have hand-made chocolate for sale?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I thought they're supposed to be chocolate cafe or something along the line. It's so obviously when it's AFL grand final weekend, the whole Melbourne is flogged with in town so don't you want fricking business. At all? No? Too rich to even bother?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;*long sigh*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I love chocolate and I really just can't let it go when they told me I can't have some. They won't have any stock in till November. Like wtf? I thought it's supposed to be never-ending flow of chocolate since it's not a seasonal thing like fruits. S was in Melbourne a few months back and the same thing happened.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So was it just me or does all chocolate shops operate that way? I sure have never encountered one before! It doesn't bother me for now because I have better chocolate (&lt;i&gt;Godiva&lt;/i&gt;)in stock for my eating pleasure at the moment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Speaking of chocolate, do give the yummylicious &lt;a href="http://www.starbucks.com.au"&gt;Starbucks&lt;/a&gt; &lt;i&gt;Signature Hot Chocolate&lt;/i&gt; a go.  It's heaven! Not for the faint heart though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-115993602452681535?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/115993602452681535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=115993602452681535&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115993602452681535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115993602452681535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/10/today-i-feel-like-killing-max-brenner.html' title='today i feel like killing max brenner too'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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-9922094.post-115990274809799956</id><published>2006-10-04T03:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-04T12:30:17.050+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i'm re-discovering my inner self</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You know how I always do not know what I want apart from my love for shopping but when I woke up a few days ago, I finally knew somehow that I have to end my relationship with S. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The only problem is I do not know how to... And the fact that both W and S doesn't know that I'm seeing both of them con-currently. Yeah, I know I'm such a bitch but this is my life, even if it's fucked up. I do not know how my relationship with S turned that serious. I know that he is when he spent about $800 on buying me birthday gifts when he has never done so before to any of his ex girlfriends. Or when he told how he wants to impress me by having a successful career and he's speaking about the future. &lt;i&gt;Our future&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I can't imagine parting with my lovely bag soon but such is life. You gotta do what you have gotta do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I hope my I'll start building my career instead of fooling around when I start my new job. I really can't wait. After all, I'm not THAT young anymore. The older I get, the less accomplished I feel. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-115990274809799956?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/115990274809799956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=115990274809799956&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115990274809799956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115990274809799956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/10/today-im-re-discovering-my-inner-self.html' title='today i&apos;m re-discovering my inner self'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-115868934639458217</id><published>2006-09-20T02:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T02:09:06.516+08:00</updated><title type='text'>i do not like crappy presents</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I have only one simple request whenever it comes to buying me a birthday gift. Either get me something that I like or nothing at all. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;This applies to people who are close to me. As for acquaintances, I do not mind anything because chances are, I'll just give them away if I don't like it. End of story. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;My girls knew better to consult me or among themselves whenever it comes to either one of our birthday. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;It is always the boyfriend that never listen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;And he had to go get me things I won't even wear. 2 pairs of sneakers, 2 shirts (read: not top/blouse), 2 hats (I don't fucking care if it is Goorin Brothers hats, I only know Philip Treacy). The point is, I'm not even into hats!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Stab me please!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Well, I did not hint him on stuff that I want. I &lt;i&gt;told&lt;/i&gt; him directly. But he never listen. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I really don't appreciate pressies which I think are crappy. I tried but I just simply can't.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I feel like crying. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-115868934639458217?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/115868934639458217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=115868934639458217&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115868934639458217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115868934639458217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-do-not-like-crappy-presents.html' title='i do not like crappy presents'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-115799194034236972</id><published>2006-09-12T00:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-12T00:29:48.993+08:00</updated><title type='text'>spring love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm lusting over the large &lt;a href="http://www.saksfifthavenue.com/main/ProductDetail.jsp?PRODUCT%3C%3Eprd_id=845524446130297&amp;FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=282574490890331&amp;ASSORTMENT%3C%3East_id=1408474395222441&amp;bmUID=1157991485207&amp;ev19=1:1"&gt;YSL Muse&lt;/a&gt; in white. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I don't mind the medium size one as well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Or the YSL Rive Gauche bag. In white of course.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Bless me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-115799194034236972?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/115799194034236972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=115799194034236972&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115799194034236972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115799194034236972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/09/spring-love.html' title='spring love'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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-9922094.post-115548861890940973</id><published>2006-08-14T00:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T16:10:17.103+08:00</updated><title type='text'>i'm just plain greedy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I really have no idea why I've been eating so much and spending lots of money on food these days it is really not funny anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So I wanted to save money, or try to, hence I decided to buy ice-cream from supermarket instead of &lt;i&gt;Baskin-Robbins&lt;/i&gt;. I ended up spending more because I reckon I need three different kind of ice-cream. &gt;.&lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;On a side note, I've perfected my skill in making garlic prawns. It's probably better than the one you get at &lt;a href="http://members.iinet.net.au/%7Ewitchs/home.htm"&gt;Witch's Cauldron&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Food asides, I'm jetting off somewhere for a short holiday next month! Yay! I really can't wait. And I'm looking forward to it so much I've started counting down to that day, which co-incidentally falls on my birthday. Yep, it is gonna be little treat to myself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Speaking of birthday, which I don't really want to because it's a reminder of my age. I'm just really ancient. Although not as old as &lt;i&gt;Belgarath&lt;/i&gt; but still... In case you're wondering, &lt;i&gt;Belgarath&lt;/i&gt; is a character in one of &lt;i&gt;David Eddings&lt;/i&gt;' books and he is at least a couple of thousand years old.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I could still remember my darling girlfriend promised me two birthday cakes this year. *grins* I reminded her about that last week. I could smell chocolate cake or &lt;i&gt;Baskin-Robbins&lt;/i&gt;' yummylicious ice-cream cake. I also pointed that out to S that he should make up big time for this birthday of mine. And that I want two birthday cakes. Then I realized I would have four birthday cakes. How can I finish all four of them? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;On an unrelated note, I watched &lt;i&gt;The Lake House&lt;/i&gt; two weeks ago and I was crying like there's no tomorrow. I tried to sob quietly and had to force myself to hold back from breaking down and wail. It was the part where &lt;i&gt;Sandra Bullock&lt;/i&gt; was kneeling down in front of the post box, crying. Yes, it was THAT bad. I've not came across any movies that made me reacted this way. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've not done any shopping since I bought those gorgeous sunnies. I'm trying not to spend too much just so I could splurge on my upcoming trip. I've even planned to have &lt;i&gt;Starbucks&lt;/i&gt; coffee every morning. You'll never appreciate it till you lost it. It's true. After all I started drinking &lt;i&gt;Starbucks&lt;/i&gt; coffee since I was a teenager. It's been almost 10 years! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Does anyone know where can I get a nice pair of comfy of black heels? I need a black and a white tote too! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;White is so gonna be in this coming spring/summer. Actually white has always been a classic so to me, it's in every spring/summer. And I can't stand those salesgirls who keep on urging me to try on nautical style tops. Excuse me, I'm too short to wear vertical stripes. It will only makes me look fat so regardless it's in fashion or not, I cannot bring myself to wear that, get it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-115548861890940973?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/115548861890940973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=115548861890940973&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115548861890940973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115548861890940973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/08/im-just-plain-greedy.html' title='i&apos;m just plain greedy'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-115485363245492841</id><published>2006-08-06T16:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-06T16:43:38.136+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i've gone haywire</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Time seems to be an important essence to me nowadays. I've not been having enough sleep yet procrastinate when I should really be doing my work, rushing for a very important deadline (immigration purpose) in 3 days time. I was given 6 weeks time frame yet I managed to waste 4 weeks doing nothing. &gt;.&lt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm barely halfway done and I'm awaiting my documents from overseas which was only couriered out on Fri. I've asked for extension once, I'm not sure it's wise to ask for a further extension because I'm afraid it might jeopardize my case. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;S has been nagging me for the past 6 weeks and I got so fed-up I lied to him that I've actually completed everything that has to be done.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; I'm bad. I just never learn from the mistakes I made. I'm such a sloth, really. I always do things last minute. :-(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fuck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm panicking right now that I even dreamt about it last night. Except that the dream was in a full story line from the pieces of stuff that has been worrying me for the past few weeks. I didn't know my brain has capability to do such thing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Anyway, despite me worrying over my unfinished work, I still manage to try to ignore it and went shopping yesterday. In fact, I've been doing quite a bit of shopping for past one week. Good things come in pair so I got myself 2 pairs of jeans &amp; 2 pairs of sunnies (Jackie O look-alike black sunnies and a pair of white diamante sunnies). That, makes me a very happy girl and $700 poorer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I did not realized that I do not have enough money in my daily savings account to pay for my sunnies and immediately two thoughts came to my mind, use my credit card or my other savings account which I vowed not to touch as it will incur a substantial amount of fee everytime I withdraw money out from that particular account. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;In my entire 2 years, I've not touch a single cents from that account and there is only money going in. It feels divine to see I'm being able to save *that* much money. I'm really proud of myself for once. I was about to use my credit card but I changed my mind because that could only mean Pa would be paying for my sunnies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was short of $50 and I asked S to lend me money instead. He, very reluctantly handed it over to me. And he asked question that pissed me off, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"When are you going to pay me back?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;What a cheapskate ass. If I were to run away with his money, $50 is seriously nothing. Even $500 is not enough for me, you get what I mean?!!! It's just disheartening that he still doesn't trust me when it comes to money. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Why is it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;always&lt;/span&gt; money? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And if there is someone that should be more cautious here, that would be me because to put it bluntly, I'm richer than him. Even if I sit at home everyday and not earning any income compared to him working every day, I am still r i c h e r than him. Really, it's not like I'm not going to pay him back although I think $50 is not a lot because regardless of what people say, money makes things happen. And that $50 could mean a lot to some people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Anyway, enough of mindless ranting from me. I need to get ready to meet my girls and then I'm dropping by to see second mum before I come back and finish my work once and for all so that I don't have to worry about it anymore. Yippie!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-115485363245492841?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/115485363245492841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=115485363245492841&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115485363245492841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115485363245492841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/08/today-ive-gone-haywire.html' title='today i&apos;ve gone haywire'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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-9922094.post-115289172173589281</id><published>2006-07-14T23:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-14T23:44:33.626+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i cry my heart out</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I left my sunnies in the &lt;i&gt;Myer&lt;/i&gt; changing room and I came back to look for it within 10 minutes&lt;/span&gt; but it&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; was gone. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've been feeling quite upset coz it's less than a year old. I can't believe anyone would actually took my sunnies. If I found a pair of sunnies or a bag that I love to death accidentally left behind by someone, I would most definitely surrender it in. Because I could understand how that someone would feel. Because she probably work hard to buy it. Or even if she is rich, it doesn't give anyone any fucking right to take it. More importantly, it could be a gift from someone she adores dearly which in my case, it was a pressie from Pa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;But of course, in reality this rarely happens. Reality can be so harsh sometimes. When I told this to some people, they even mentioned that if they were to find something that interest them, they'd most likely keep them than to hand it in. You left something in the changing room, say goodbye.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;*sigh*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And if you happen to read this, the next time you found something that doesn't belong to you, no matter how insignificant you may think it affects the person who lost it, please, give it back to the rightful owner. Simply because it belongs to that person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I guess this teach me to be more careful next time around. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And whoever who stole my sunnies, up yours asshole!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-115289172173589281?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/115289172173589281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=115289172173589281&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115289172173589281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115289172173589281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/07/today-i-cry-my-heart-out.html' title='today i cry my heart out'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-115229710267410913</id><published>2006-07-08T02:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-08T02:31:42.716+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i'm a junk food addict</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I was just reading through the text messages I sent to S and I've realized that 80% of my Melbourne shopping list comprises of food and more food. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Max Brenner&lt;/i&gt; chocolate, &lt;i&gt;Haigh's&lt;/i&gt; chocolate, &lt;i&gt;Krispy Kreme&lt;/i&gt; doughnuts (I asked for two dozens! God! How greedy), &lt;i&gt;Famous Amos&lt;/i&gt; cookies, &lt;i&gt;Mrs Field's&lt;/i&gt; cookies. I swear the sugar is gonna kill me someday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I still have a few bars of chocolate lying around in my room! And a tub of &lt;i&gt;Baskin-Robbins&lt;/i&gt; in the freezer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I'm just so greedy. Ma would start lecturing me non-stop if she see the way I've been binging on food. -.-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-115229710267410913?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/115229710267410913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=115229710267410913&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115229710267410913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115229710267410913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/07/today-im-junk-food-addict.html' title='today i&apos;m a junk food addict'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-115216160268267830</id><published>2006-07-06T20:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-06T20:13:27.250+08:00</updated><title type='text'>sleepless night</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It's karma I tell you. I seem to be on a bad luck streak again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I could hardly sleep because of my shoulder and neck. It hurts everytime I move. Not even slightly. How can someone not move while sleeping?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And my stupid &lt;i&gt;Sergio Rossi&lt;/i&gt; pumps have been killing my feet. Not to mention I have mouth ulcer. *sniff*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I was downtown watching &lt;a href="http://movies.yahoo.com/movie/1808715902/info;_ylt=Ap9wwMzKZnK854o7aMHr8llfVXcA"&gt;Click&lt;/a&gt;. It's boring but I cried a little. Only a little so stop looking at me that way. I was so tempted to see &lt;a href="http://movies.yahoo.com/movie/1808556813/info"&gt;Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest&lt;/a&gt; but I've promised S I would wait for him. Damnit! I regretted my decision judging from the fact that there aren't any nice movies been released these days. And I don't watch a movie twice so I can't sneak behind him to watch this today and watch it again with him next time. It would be a torture.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I don't know why but &lt;i&gt;Captain Jack Sparrow&lt;/i&gt; reminded me of &lt;a href="http://milk-tsk.blogspot.com"&gt;Mahd&lt;/a&gt;. Maybe it's just me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;On another note, &lt;a href="http://www.myer.com.au"&gt;Myer&lt;/a&gt; has another sale starting today. It seems never-ending to be honest. This sale thing. I just cruised through without picking anything. Unbelievable. It's the crowd that kills my retail therapy appetite I supposed. I've asked S to check out the price of spybag if he came across any and if the &lt;a href="http://salvatoreferragamo.it"&gt;Ferragamo&lt;/a&gt; store has my shoes size, he's getting them for me! I'm paying him of course. Neat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-115216160268267830?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/115216160268267830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=115216160268267830&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115216160268267830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115216160268267830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/07/sleepless-night.html' title='sleepless night'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-115211385160203936</id><published>2006-07-05T23:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-06T12:14:36.620+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i hurt myself</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I pulled my left shoulder's muscle/nerve or whatever medical term it is called. Basically, I can't lift up my left arm or my entire left side of my neck hurts. Badly. I can't even move my neck all that much. And this has never happened to me before. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;About 2 weeks ago, I pulled my knee's muscle/nerve or whatever medical term it is called whilst sleeping and I woke up screaming. W jokingly said I must be playing footie. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Last week, I hurt my right foot and I accidentally burn my fingers whilst cooking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I just really have to admit I'm getting old.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You want prove? Two guys hit on me two days in a row. Let me re-iterate. One old man (bastard!) who is older than my dad and still very married and apparently super rich and one 32 years old divorcee. I know both of them on acquaintance level. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;God! Whatever happened to guys my age? What about &lt;i&gt;Jake Gyllenhaal&lt;/i&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;On another note, S is away in Melbourne for the weekend and I kinda miss him. Not because I love him so I miss him. Wait, I don't even love him but it's just that I hate people leaving me. Although it's just temporary. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I gave him a shopping list though. &gt;.&lt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Considering the fact that we turned out pretty screwed up (in terms of relationship), we could still talk facing each other. It never cease to amaze me because I just feel like punching him sometimes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I should probably go see a chiropractor tomorrow. It &lt;i&gt;does&lt;/i&gt; really hurt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; Will someone give me a hug for now? Anyone? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-115211385160203936?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/115211385160203936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=115211385160203936&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115211385160203936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115211385160203936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/07/today-i-hurt-myself.html' title='today i hurt myself'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-115164771275087269</id><published>2006-06-30T13:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-30T14:09:35.400+08:00</updated><title type='text'>to lex with disappointment</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I went to watch &lt;b&gt;Superman Returns&lt;/b&gt; with the gang last night. Not my girls. This is the boys gang that I hang out with occassionally for movies, river cruises, more movies, parties, cinemas, movies. Okay, I'm getting repetitive. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;If you haven't watch this movie, good. Don't even think about going to watch it. Keep up the good work. Bravo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;If you decided to go against my advise, well... You will find yourself wasting $15 to sleep in an uncomfortable chair. God, what is &lt;i&gt;Lex Luthor&lt;/i&gt; trying to do? Taking over the world which a scheme that doesn't even make any sense. If billions of people died, what's the use of having lots of money? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;If I may add, I'm quite a big fan of &lt;i&gt;Lex Luthor&lt;/i&gt; but not this time around. He just kinda sucks this time. Bleh!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-115164771275087269?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/115164771275087269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=115164771275087269&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115164771275087269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115164771275087269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/06/to-lex-with-disappointment.html' title='to lex with disappointment'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-115081496978184442</id><published>2006-06-20T22:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-20T22:49:29.853+08:00</updated><title type='text'>soccer, football...ice-cream!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I've not been getting enough sleep. It wasn't because of staying up late watching the World Cup but rather, watching Stewie taking over the world. Yep, it's the &lt;a href="http://www.familyguy.com"&gt;Family Guy!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I think I've gone past the football phase since a couple of years ago. Yes, I call it football regardless what AFL fans say. I grow up watching footie with Pa since I was a little girl. Back then when &lt;i&gt;Ryan Giggs&lt;/i&gt; was still gorgeous and &lt;i&gt;Andrei Kanchelskis&lt;/i&gt; was still around. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Now I don't even watch footie. I guess I'm just no longer interested. Probably because Pa is in a different continent. I bet on them though. Hey, that's the best part I reckon! -.-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I've been binging on ice-cream so much that even when I have running nose, I still continue to eat it. Non-stop. Winter is really bad. It's making me fat. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I have to admit I'm still thinking about Nonna. How I saw her the other night when I said my final goodbye to Nonno. She was weeping. She has spent most of her life with him, I can't imagine how will she cope now that he is gone forever. Isn't it amazing that there are old couples around who still love each other so much? Despite the fact that I don't really believe in marriage, people like Nonna and Nonno have proven me wrong, for once. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;So I told S to spend more time with his Nonna and Nonno. He thought I have gone crazy for telling him that out of a sudden. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;That aside, I probably am crazy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Because truthfully, I don't mind having a son who has a mind like Stewie. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Yes, I'm a little twisted inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-115081496978184442?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/115081496978184442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=115081496978184442&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115081496978184442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115081496978184442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/06/soccer-footballice-cream.html' title='soccer, football...ice-cream!'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-115017297062506782</id><published>2006-06-13T12:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-14T00:33:24.266+08:00</updated><title type='text'>goodbye, nonno</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;Dearest Nonno,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt; I can't really place this feeling in my heart right now. It was just not long ago when I saw you sitting down on your favourite spot. You were quiet as usual, watching Nonna doing all the talking. When I looked through your eyes, I could see a man who has gone through hardship in life. More importantly, I also see a person who has the most gentle soul ever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt; I'll never forget how you used to kiss me so fondly on the cheeks and treated me like one of your grandchildren...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt; How you held my hand tightly as you walked me to the door...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt; How you and Nonna accepted me as part of your family just like second mum and Zia did... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt; And despite you speak little English, you muttered out, "Good girl" whenever you see me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt; I never really get to know both of my grandpa because they've gone to heaven when I was a little girl.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt; Thank you for letting me having the opportunity to know how it once felt like before.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt; I'm gonna miss you, Nonno. I think we all will... There is no doubt about that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt; Love always,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt; Chica&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-115017297062506782?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/115017297062506782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=115017297062506782&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115017297062506782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/115017297062506782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/06/goodbye-nonno_13.html' title='goodbye, nonno'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114950682887196003</id><published>2006-06-05T19:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T19:34:55.843+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i'm friend with baskin-robbins</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Okay, so was every other day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;But I had it first thing in the morning on my way to meet up with one of my girls for lunch. I just couldn't resist the temptation. And then, I had it again after lunch. So &lt;a href="http://www.baskinrobbins.com.au"&gt;Baskin-Robbins&lt;/a&gt; and I are indeed BFF (Best Friends Forever). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've been having craving for pizza since last 2 days and I was meant to get it from &lt;i&gt;Domino's &lt;/i&gt;or &lt;i&gt;Pizza Hut&lt;/i&gt;. Sometimes, junk food is good. To me, junk food is great all the time. Somehow, I didn't get a chance to have pizza for reasons like, there were too many food at home or I had something else for lunch or dinner and then thought about pizza only after stuffing myself with err...something else!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So today, I finally managed to have pizza! Hooray! But the pizza at this trendy cafe didn't even turned out as good as cheapos &lt;i&gt;Domino's&lt;/i&gt;. I paid $24 for pizza that I didn't even like! Ugh... But the coffee I had was brilliant though so I guess it kinda made up for it. No?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Yep, I've been piling myself with food all day longggggg. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Well done, chica. You won't be able to fit in your jeans anymore! :-(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114950682887196003?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114950682887196003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114950682887196003&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114950682887196003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114950682887196003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/06/today-im-friend-with-baskin-robbins.html' title='today i&apos;m friend with baskin-robbins'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114939975314622184</id><published>2006-06-04T13:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-04T13:43:50.656+08:00</updated><title type='text'>overheard in the bus</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My mind was mindling its own business when it picked up this conversation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Woman in a funny accent which I can't place exactly what it was: My brother works for IBM. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Man in a mouse voice: Really? That sounded fun!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;WIAFAWICPEWIW: Yeah...He has got so many benefits! Home loans, Discounts on cars as well as insurance. Such a good company!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;MIAMV: I'm sure your company would give you benefit as well&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;WIAFAWICPEWIW:&lt;/span&gt; (In a serious tone) &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;No&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;MIAMV: Well, wouldn't it be nice if they give you discount to buy beds? Would you like a big bed?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm trying to suppress myself from bursting out laughing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;WIAFAWICPEWIW: No&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: *snorts*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm positively sure I just embarrassed myself but buying bed? You gotta be kidding me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114939975314622184?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114939975314622184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114939975314622184&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114939975314622184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114939975314622184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/06/overheard-in-bus.html' title='overheard in the bus'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114921777042038076</id><published>2006-06-02T11:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T14:49:35.623+08:00</updated><title type='text'>to boss with love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Random things to do in the office when the asshole boss is not around:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;- Online shopping at &lt;a href="http://www.ebay.com.au"&gt;eBay&lt;/a&gt;. Or browsing! Don't you just love &lt;i&gt;eBay&lt;/i&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;- Reading gossips on &lt;a href="http://www.trent.blogspot.com"&gt;Trent is the new pink!&lt;/a&gt; You really don't need to buy gossip magazines anymore. Hail &lt;i&gt;Trent!&lt;/i&gt; I love this guy to bits. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;- Blogs surfing. Enough said. -.-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;- Scaring the shit out of myself nagivating through the introduction of &lt;a href="http://www.jp.playstation.com/scej/title/siren2/sleepwalker.html"&gt;Siren 2&lt;/a&gt;. This is absolutely brilliant, trust me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;- Having ciggies break. Lots of it. But then again, the last time I smoke was a week ago... Maybe not!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;- Texting my girls. I sent a text message to the wrong person this morning. It was meant for one of my girls but somehow it got send to S. Maybe I'm still thinking of him sub-consciously. Thank God I wasn't bitching about him in that sms. :-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;- Jobs surfing on &lt;a href="http://www.seek.com.au"&gt;seek.com.au&lt;/a&gt;. What? Don't look at me that way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;- Last but not least, write a blog entry!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114921777042038076?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114921777042038076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114921777042038076&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114921777042038076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114921777042038076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/06/to-boss-with-love.html' title='to boss with love'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114915450416510011</id><published>2006-06-01T17:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T07:03:17.200+08:00</updated><title type='text'>of sale and biscuits</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Nope, I'm not writing about biscuits sale but I'm absolutely hooked with &lt;a href="http://www.wernli.ch"&gt;Wernli&lt;/a&gt; biscuits. They're so yummylicious. And nice. And yummy. And fattening. Eeeks!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Don't you just love the month of June and December? I went down to &lt;i&gt;David Jones&lt;/i&gt; on Tuesday afternoon to look for the &lt;i&gt;Ferragamo&lt;/i&gt; lady and before I walked up to her, I've tried on 3 pairs of shoes. :-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Although &lt;i&gt;David Jones&lt;/i&gt; sale officially started yesterday, but in truth it was on the day before. The poor &lt;i&gt;Ferragamo&lt;/i&gt; lady looked so tired and she was depressed coz she didn't manage to get the dress that she loves.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;There was only size 6 left and she lamented, &lt;em&gt;"As though I'm gonna fit in there..."&lt;/em&gt; before continuing with, &lt;em&gt;"I just bought a pair of&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;Armani, I feel sorry for my credit card"&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; I just nodded and smiled. She reminded me of how I was like last year. Spending the money I never had although my girls argued that daddy's money is technically mine too. How naive were we.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Anyway, &lt;i&gt;my&lt;/i&gt; black &lt;i&gt;Vara&lt;/i&gt; is not on sale but the lady was happy to give me 10% discount and I could come back anytime for that. Which means I get lots and lots of time to think about it since it's not on sale, they're not even in sight at all. It's just annoying that they hide away all the non-sale items in the store room.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I had my eyes on one of the gorgeous heels but it was a size too big for me so obviously I can't bring it home. And the &lt;i&gt;Ferragamo&lt;/i&gt; lady looked at me and mumbled, &lt;em&gt;"Just like my dress..."&lt;/em&gt; :-(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;And if you don't already know, &lt;i&gt;Myer&lt;/i&gt; preview sale starts next Tuesday so go in and grab a bargain!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114915450416510011?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114915450416510011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114915450416510011&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114915450416510011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114915450416510011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/06/of-sale-and-biscuits_01.html' title='of sale and biscuits'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114880481297856150</id><published>2006-05-28T16:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-29T13:50:27.716+08:00</updated><title type='text'>in ferragamo we trust</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Remember how I said I'm hunting for a pair of black pumps and I'm considering the &lt;i&gt;Ferragamo's Vara&lt;/i&gt; which was on sale?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I was at &lt;i&gt;David Jones&lt;/i&gt; and I tried on the pumps despite the fact that they don't carry my fitting. I have a wide foot so C fitting would fit me perfectly well but &lt;i&gt;David Jones&lt;/i&gt; only carries A and B so I got a size bigger in B to try on and oh my God, they were so comfy!!! I looked as though I've met the love of my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;A lady who saw me trying on that pumps exclaimed excitedly, "I like those shoes you've got on! They're gorgeous!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I smiled sheepishly thinking, "Am I getting old or what?" Just so because, only older ladies seemed to make comments whenever I try on &lt;i&gt;Ferragamo&lt;/i&gt; shoes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I have to say I didn't manage to find a pair of pumps that call out to cute guys but I found something else that is exquisite and chic. And more importantly, comfortable. The reason I'm saying that it is comfortable was because one of my girls have the same pair in beige. She has quite a number of &lt;i&gt;Ferragamos&lt;/i&gt; and she reckoned that &lt;i&gt;Vara&lt;/i&gt; by far is the most comfy pair she's got. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The black &lt;i&gt;Vara&lt;/i&gt; is not on sale at the moment and the salesgirls at &lt;i&gt;David Jones&lt;/i&gt; wasn't sure if they will ever go on sale and the &lt;i&gt;Ferragamo&lt;/i&gt; salesgirl wasn't there today. So, I'm going back to have a chat with the &lt;i&gt;Ferragamo&lt;/i&gt; salesgirl. She might give me some discounts. -.-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patience is virtue, sometimes. So I shall wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114880481297856150?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114880481297856150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114880481297856150&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114880481297856150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114880481297856150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/05/in-ferragamo-we-trust.html' title='in ferragamo we trust'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114836455240979166</id><published>2006-05-23T15:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T08:52:24.900+08:00</updated><title type='text'>code my ass</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I should have followed my instinct but I was curious so I went off to watch what else but &lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Da Vinci Code&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I almost fell asleep in the cinema. -.-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why sis said the book is interesting and that it was one of the best books ever written. Maybe she is right. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The movie just decided to turn out boring. But then again, &lt;i&gt;Ron Howard&lt;/i&gt; is boring. And &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;God, not to mention &lt;i&gt;Tom Hanks&lt;/i&gt;! The one and only movie he's really good in was &lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Forrest Gump&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;. Period. And half of the time I was trying to figure out what &lt;i&gt;Audrey Tautou&lt;/i&gt; was saying. I have to give credit to the music though. That's the only part I enjoyed throughout the movie.&lt;br /&gt;But then again, I watch at least one movie at the cinema every week so I would have watch it eventually.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Are there actually any good movies nowadays?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114836455240979166?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114836455240979166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114836455240979166&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114836455240979166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114836455240979166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/05/code-my-ass.html' title='code my ass'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114787422385089647</id><published>2006-05-21T12:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-21T00:50:41.293+08:00</updated><title type='text'>cold cold heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It was Mother's Day and S bought three bouquets of flowers for the three most important women in his life. His nonna, his mum and moi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Except that I don't feel the same way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;How I hate the feeling. You know the feeling when you have stopped loving someone and you didn't really planned for that to happen yet it did? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Wow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Fucking wow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114787422385089647?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114787422385089647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114787422385089647&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114787422385089647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114787422385089647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/05/cold-cold-heart.html' title='cold cold heart'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114727195659101324</id><published>2006-05-11T00:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-11T22:00:17.703+08:00</updated><title type='text'>i can be silly sometimes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The weather has been so cold lately yet I still did manage to wear single layer clothes to sleep, walking around the house complaining it was freezing. My fingers are freezing as I'm typing this. And to top it up, I just had half a tub of &lt;i&gt;Baskin-Robbins&lt;/i&gt;. -.-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;No, I'm not torturing myself but I'm just merely showing how much I LOVE the cold weather. Brr...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've not been getting enough sleep lately as well. I helped S with his assignment last night because he is just plain unlucky, not having group mates whom he could work with. One of his group mates could barely understand English. This is just like sending me to study at Germany. Some of these students shouldn't even be in Uni to begin with! But then again, &lt;i&gt;George Bush&lt;/i&gt; graduated from Harvard so...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S and I are on talking term at the moment. I try not to get too close to him and as much as I wanted us to remain as friends but theoritetically it could be dangerous and almost impossible. We're not enemies or anything like that but I really just can't pretend nothing has happened between us in the past and pretended we're one big happy family if that makes any sense at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Apart from S, I worked every single day last week I didn't even have time to shop. I'm hunting for a nice gorgeous black tote. And a pair of black pumps too! It's a torture when you can't find things you so desperately need.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I was out with one of my girls earlier and I kinda like the black &lt;i&gt;Ferragamo&lt;/i&gt;'s signature pump with bow. It is on sale at the moment and it costs $356 after discount. The price is alright (although I prefer not to spend that much at the moment) but the pumps are oh-so-boring although I'll definitely own one of those someday. Right now, I want sexy pumps that calls out to guys. I mean cute guys, of course. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;*Sigh*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Can someone please help me out here? I need a gorgeous black tote and black pumps! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114727195659101324?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114727195659101324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114727195659101324&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114727195659101324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114727195659101324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-can-be-silly-sometimes.html' title='i can be silly sometimes'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114610828386787567</id><published>2006-04-27T11:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T11:25:15.886+08:00</updated><title type='text'>five days and still counting...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;That's the duration of time I've not spoken or heard from S. Neither do I bother to contact him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I keep on asking myself whether it's the right decision but since the moment of unhappiness I've gone through being with him exceeded the moment of happiness by three to one, the answer is pretty obvious.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I definitely do not feel regret but rather I'm just glad that it's over. Sort of. It's gonna be another vicious cycle going on if I relented. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It's not as bad I thought it would be. I'm feeling numb and alright, of course.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114610828386787567?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114610828386787567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114610828386787567&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114610828386787567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114610828386787567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/04/five-days-and-still-counting.html' title='five days and still counting...'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114595310198386299</id><published>2006-04-25T16:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-25T16:54:43.246+08:00</updated><title type='text'>it runs in the family</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You know how &lt;b&gt;Jake Gyllenhaal&lt;/b&gt; is so cute but he's got an ugly sister in the form of &lt;b&gt;Maggie Gyllenhaal&lt;/b&gt;? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;That's how S is like. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Except for the fact that he is already ugly. And his one and only sibling a.k.a his sis just annoys the hell out of me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So maybe it's just me trying to pick on her but really, ANYONE who doesn't know how to dress properly but think they're so glam should be shoot. Let's not talk about fashion because each and every individual has his or her own fashion sense, just as long as you're not too out of the league. Like for example: black top, green skirt, black pumps looks alright but why on earth the red bag? Ewww...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Like really, if you're gonna spend so much on something, might just as well make it the best. She earns more money than I do (she's a physiotherapist) so I can't see what's the problem, monetary wise. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Let's leave the sister alone and move to the older brother. I've been trying so hard to get away from him. I've given him enough chances and I just knew it if it's not gonna work since ages ago, it's not gonna make any difference now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Not that he gives a damn how I feel when he insisted that I tell him what went wrong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The point is, nobody is at fault here. When a relationship doesn't works out, it should just end rather than dragging on for ages. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I do understand when he needs to spend time with his mates but what I do not understand is why does he needs to lie to me about that, giving excuses like he has to do his assignments. My girls meant the world to me and I know how important it is to cherish friends but that doesn't mean I have to blatantly ignore my boyfriend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;If friends are more important to him, then I would rather just be his friend. Hey, I'm supposed to be someone special in the first place but since I'm not, so be it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;What, you think it's easy to maintain a girlfriend?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114595310198386299?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114595310198386299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114595310198386299&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114595310198386299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114595310198386299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/04/it-runs-in-family.html' title='it runs in the family'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114525084830597364</id><published>2006-04-17T13:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T13:15:10.866+08:00</updated><title type='text'>of easter and chocolat</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Happy Easter, girls and guys and kiddos!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've only got one question everytime it comes to Easter but no one has ever manage to answer it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Why does most of the Easter chocolate only have a life span of 2 months or so when 'normal' chocolate on the shelf can lasts for about a year or more? WHY WHY WHY?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It's breaking my heart because I can't stock up Easter eggs. They're so convenient to eat. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114525084830597364?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114525084830597364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114525084830597364&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114525084830597364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114525084830597364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/04/of-easter-and-chocolat.html' title='of easter and chocolat'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114395800574082417</id><published>2006-04-02T18:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-03T10:33:58.646+08:00</updated><title type='text'>speaking of salad...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;We had 40 people in for dinner last night (thank God it's not all on the same time) and there were only me, second mum's elder sis, (Let's call her sexy grandma - she lives up to the name trust me) and our dear chef, A.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It was just me running around on the front and occassionally, sexy grandma when I was too busy making coffee or deserts. It's not easy if you have the whole place full of people but everything was under control.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've taken the order for the 6-top at the front, sat down a couple who just walked in, delivered drinks to the 4-top (2 couples). One of the couples at the 4-top are the parents of S' best friend. S is second mum's middle daughter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I moved on the party of 5 tucked at the back of the restaurant. 3 girls and 2 guys. Those girls are prissy I swear, one ordered bruschetta and the other 2 ordered, what else but salad for dinner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The girl looked at me snobbishly and said, "I don't want any anchovies in my chicken caeser salad."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I nodded and put down on the note: Bitch alert, no anchovies before she dies from trying to lose some weight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Of course I didn't do that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The curly hair brunette chose sundried tomatoes salad with grilled chicken.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The 2 guys have pastas. Easy I thought.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So I placed their orders in and proceed to take the 4-top orders.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Somehow in between running around and 20 minutes later, I realized that the party of 5 still haven't gotten their orders out yet when A asked me whether the 4-top is ready for their mains. Apparently there were some confusion at the kitchen as the chef and sexy grandma were working around getting orders out, etc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I walked up the party of 5 explaining to them what happened and apologized, telling them their orders would be ready as soon as possible. They seemed quite happy when I delivered the food.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;When the caeser salad girl got hers, she went, "Was it just me freaking out or was that anchovies?" pointing at her salad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The curly hair brunette girl peered into the salad and replied, "It is anchovies!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"I'll get this replaced for you. I'm sorry about that." I offered.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Well, A took 2 minutes to make her a fresh salad with no anchovies. I delivered her salad and apologized again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;She just brushed me off saying, "No worries!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So I walked away to check on the rest of my customers. Everyone is happy, either chatting away, laughing, drinking or eating.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Not long later, the party of 5 walked up to the counter. They didn't even bother to have deserts which I'm not surprised considered the 3 girls being anorexic wannabes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;One of the guys, who offered to pay for the rest of them cleared his throat and said, "We're not quite happy about some things tonight. We live down the road and come here quite often. Usually we're happy. What went wrong in the kitchen, the orders were late and stuff."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I definitely do not recall them as regulars. Because if they are, beats me, sexy grandma would have recognized them too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I bit back my tongue and said, "I've explained what happened earlier, and I'm sorry once again for the unpleasantness."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"And one of the girls does not have artichokes and pepper or something in her salad." he continued.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Then the curly hair brunette hair nodded and said, "Yep, there's no artichokes and red pepper in it!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Also, the girls didn't get their diet cokes." he added.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Shouldn't we get some sort of discount or something?" the other guy chipped in. He seems to be the nicer one of the bunch though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I looked at the leader of the whingers and said, "I'll ask the chef if I could knock a few dollars off the salad, it shouldn't be a big deal. As for the cokes, it's entirely my fault. I forgot about it but you should have told me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Oh, we just thought that to bring this up together at the end," he said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm about to bang my head on the wall at this point of time. It's my fault for forgetting the cokes but if they really wanted the drinks, they would have reminded me. This is not some sort of mind-reading class or memory test.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"I'll take $3 off the salad price for you, if that's alright." I asked the curly hair brunette.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Yep, sure... That sounds good." she said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"How much did she said she was gonna take off?" the caeser salad girl asked her. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;When the curly hair brunette told her the amount, she quipped, "You should have got it for free!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Are there anything else you guys are unhappy about?" I looked at the party of 5.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The caeser salad girl immediately replied, "There were anchovies in my salad!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The leader of the whingers noticed how stupidity has taken over one of his minions and immediately but his hand out towards her, obviously signaling her to stop talking further. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I was giving them this shocking look and told the leader of the whingers firmly, "I've replaced the salad for her."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"I've knocked off the corkage charges for tonight as well just to be fair to you," I continued knowing what exactly these people were after. I really just can't wait to get rid of them and I hope that they will never come back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The leader just nodded and said, "There's no problem with that." He passed me his credit card to be processed and the party walked out after the transaction is done. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The nice guy stayed back for a couple more minutes because he was waiting for the chef to prepare his desert to be taken away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;In that 5 minutes, I've found out that they don't come by often and they mostly do take-aways. The only time he's been here was 3 years ago, I didn't ask about the rest &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The girls have totally forgetten about the diet cokes until they're leaving the place. "Not that they need them, anyway." he added.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Sexy grandma and A were sitting outside so I went up to them and complained about the bunch of whingers. A mentioned told me it's common as these people are after free food whatsoever, it's the hospitality industry. Sexy grandma mentioned that when she said goodnight to them, they didn't reply and just walked away. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I walked off to clean their table and the curly hair brunette left only 1/4 potion of her salad. Come to think of it if she really wants the artichokes or red pepper badly, she should have asked for it immediately and if she's really unhappy with the food, she could have send it back to us without eating it and she definitely would get her salad for free.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It's just like me not liking something but managed to somehow force myself to finish it anyway. It doesn't make any sense. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I still can't believe such people do exist, nit-picking tiny details which don't make any sense just to get free food. If you &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;can't&lt;/span&gt; afford to eat out, then &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;don't.&lt;/span&gt; Stick to &lt;i&gt;Hungry Jacks&lt;/i&gt; like how the chef puts it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114395800574082417?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114395800574082417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114395800574082417&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114395800574082417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114395800574082417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/04/speaking-of-salad.html' title='speaking of salad...'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114378640919278916</id><published>2006-03-31T14:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-31T14:47:10.820+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i'm on salad marathon</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;*sheepish smile*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I loathe salad for as long as I can remember. That is until I discovered the best salad dressing last week. It is called &lt;i&gt;Cafe 26 Original Salad Dressing&lt;/i&gt;. Weird name but it tasted so yummylicious. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I love mangoes a lot too! And I usually have them after I had my salad. Nevertheless, less and less mangoes are on sale right now. It's probably the end of mango season. Was there mango season to begin with I'm not too sure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My darling baby sis courier-ed over a whole lot of &lt;i&gt;Famous Amos&lt;/i&gt; cookies when I told her I missed them. She is such a sweetheart. I think she kind of feel sorry for me that I don't get what I usually get back home. Like my daily dosage of &lt;i&gt;Starbucks' &lt;/i&gt; skinny latte. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Face it, people who said Perth is a wonderful place because we don't have giant businesses trying to take over this whole place are obviously, lying. I grow up seeing all this and if a coffee place is good, no one can affect the business. It's very much individual preference and I think that &lt;i&gt;Gloria Jeans&lt;/i&gt; coffee sucks. Big time! &lt;i&gt;Cafe Angazi&lt;/i&gt; at Curtin Uni has the best cappuccino in town. &lt;i&gt;Dome&lt;/i&gt; comes in second (not all &lt;i&gt;Dome&lt;/i&gt; outlets though - I ever tasted a very diluted coffee from the same outlet three fucking times). Whatever happened to quality control?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The weather is absolutely beautiful today. Whenever I decided to stay in, the weather is just brilliant. And whenever I have plans to go out, the weather is just plain shittie. Like yesterday for example. I managed to escape into the cinema to avoid the heat and watched &lt;i&gt;V for Vendetta&lt;/i&gt; instead. God, &lt;i&gt;Natalie Portman&lt;/i&gt; is so annoying. I can't pin-point what exactly it was but like that alien mother &lt;i&gt;Katie Holmes&lt;/i&gt;, she's annoying. Her voice, her look, everything. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Yikes!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I keep on remembering this line from &lt;i&gt;Star Wars: Episode 3&lt;/i&gt; whenever I hear her voice, the part where she was sobbing and said &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"You're breaking my heart, Anakin!"&lt;/span&gt; *cries even louder* Please dump her back to &lt;i&gt;Harvard&lt;/i&gt; and stop her acting career. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I so wanna watch &lt;i&gt;The Inside Man&lt;/i&gt; though. Should be interesting since it was directed by &lt;i&gt;Spike Lee&lt;/i&gt;. Speaking of movies, S told me he has won an auction for a movie prop item which costs him US$300 not including the shipping cost. I won't tell you what it was but the bloody item is heavy. I'm glad he's gonna die paying for the shipping cost. Not forgetting the seller only ship via Fed Ex. If I'm not mistaken, Fed Ex is a courier company. *evil laughter*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Have a good weekend people! I'm definitely gonna enjoy myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114378640919278916?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114378640919278916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114378640919278916&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114378640919278916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114378640919278916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/03/today-im-on-salad-marathon.html' title='today i&apos;m on salad marathon'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114337842955083644</id><published>2006-03-26T21:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-26T21:08:29.306+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i'm gabrielle solis</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"There are lots of hippies in this place," S said, making a comment whilst we're sitting down having dinner at one of my favourite cafes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"At least they're not yuppies!" I replied with a dagger look.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"You are a yuppie yourself," he said nonchalantly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"I'm not," I retorted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Yes you are. Mrs Solis is a yuppie. You're like her," he shot back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I just sat back and kept my mouth shut because if I open my mouth at that point of time, I was gonna start shouting at him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Perhaps I'm very much like Gabrielle Solis. Well, I love pretty stuff, I dedicated most of my life to shopping and I'd rather not eat than to give up my pair of heels. That, doesn't make me a yuppie does it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Anyway, S is driving me insane I swear. He is a pain in the ass. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So I agreed to go out for dinner and movie with him on Friday night but little did I know he has decided without consulting me that we're joining H and his friends for movie. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I felt absolutely shittie towards the end of the evening because he was driving around in circle for half an hour looking for parking unsuccessfully, only to missed the first 10 minutes of the movie. For fuck sake, no one would have the faintest idea to watch movie on a Friday night in the city because it's late night shopping. It's full with people!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So when I got all upset, he thought I was being a drama queen and unreasonable because H just buried his best friend the day before, who also happened to be a friend of his back in high school. Don't get me wrong, H is a good friend of mine too and I want to be there for him during this difficult time but at least S should fucking tell me if he decided to change our plan. Just because none of my friend is dead *touch wood* that doesn't make me any less important. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Not to mention he made me paid (for him as well) for the movie I wouldn't watch in the first place. He always have this habit of asking me to pay for dinner when he pays for movie (or vice versa) whenever he asked me out. The point here is, he &lt;i&gt;asked&lt;/i&gt; me out. So by right, he &lt;i&gt;should&lt;/i&gt; be paying for it. After one fucking year only did I realized this. It was probably because it wasn't a problem back then because I was using dad's money, so I had plenty of it at that time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;When I buy things for him, I didn't ask for money. Neither did he offered to pay for them. The most he did is buying me dinner which probably cost one tenth of what I spent on him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He doesn't buy things for me as often as I did for him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It doesn't matter whether I'm a yuppie or not but this guy is definitely not for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss W. If only God could let me have another boyfriend that is as good as him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114337842955083644?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114337842955083644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114337842955083644&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114337842955083644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114337842955083644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/03/today-im-gabrielle-solis.html' title='today i&apos;m gabrielle solis'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114277293879268437</id><published>2006-03-19T20:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-19T20:59:20.720+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i feel like punching someone</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Every 10 days or so I'll have weird cravings. The other day, I feel like eating chicken kebab. Last week, it was Indonesian cuisine at this particular restaurant that serves yummylicious &lt;i&gt;asam fish&lt;/i&gt; and &lt;i&gt;beef rendang&lt;/i&gt;. Last night it was &lt;i&gt;McDonald's&lt;/i&gt; nuggets and cheeseburger. -.-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've not been seeing S for a week now. I refused to let him do anything for me anymore. I've told him like a million times that he is simply not spending enough time with me yet he is being so fucking defensive that I find it tiring. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Yes, he's gotta work and study. And he started going on and on about how none of my friends need to work as well as study on the same time, stating that's why we have so much time to kill. He complained how I do not understand it's not easy for him yada yada. It's &lt;b&gt;not&lt;/b&gt; our fault we're slightly more privilege having not have to work for money. Damn it. It's &lt;b&gt;not&lt;/b&gt; my fault that I do not have to work as hard as he does for money. He doesn't spend on me anyway so I really do not understand what's his problem. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Never mind. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm just glad I don't have to put up with that any longer. I feel lonely there's no doubt and adjusting to single life once again can be so-not-me kind of thing but I know I had to get out. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Good thing I get to spend more time with my girls although we've been too lazy to go out. We even missed the &lt;i&gt;David Jones&lt;/i&gt; fashion show which we've been attending religiously for the past 2 years!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm just keeping my fingers crossed that things will get better despite the fact I'll have to brave the shittie weather tomorrow. Bloody 37 degrees!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114277293879268437?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114277293879268437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114277293879268437&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114277293879268437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114277293879268437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/03/today-i-feel-like-punching-someone.html' title='today i feel like punching someone'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114165214558845532</id><published>2006-03-06T21:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-06T21:39:21.543+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the red carpet edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Hurrah! It's the 78th Annual Academy Awards. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I love looking at dresses and chicks and not ogling at cute actors coz it's the only time of the year they're dressed as waiters (I'd say restaurant managers actually) rotating between the boring black Calvin Klein, Giorgio Armani, Hugo Boss, Calvin Klein and occassionally Paul Smith, Fendi and some boring restaurant manager look alike suits. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I present to you the &lt;a href="http://www.egotastic.com/entertainment/celebrities/78th-annual-academy-awards-mega-picture-post-000988#more"&gt;the incomplete ultimate red carpet photos&lt;/a&gt;. Of chicks of course.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Let's bitch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Was it just me or everyone else agree with me that &lt;i&gt;Michelle Williams&lt;/i&gt; IS JUST PLAIN UGLY? Look at the make-up. Ewww... I don't know why but the girls from &lt;b&gt;Dawson's Creek&lt;/b&gt; turned out to be ugly 10 years later. I really don't need to mention who the other one is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The usually cute &lt;i&gt;Keira Knightley&lt;/i&gt; looks sleepy. Vera Wang dressed both &lt;i&gt;Keira&lt;/i&gt; and &lt;i&gt;Michelle&lt;/i&gt;. I don't like their dresses. Not to mention the distasteful &lt;i&gt;Armani&lt;/i&gt; dress that &lt;i&gt;Zhang Ziyi&lt;/i&gt; wore. If you think any of these are bad, wait till you see &lt;i&gt;Maggie Gyllenhaal&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Helena Bonham-Carter&lt;/i&gt; looks like she's just came out from &lt;b&gt;Corpse Bride&lt;/b&gt; spotting a &lt;i&gt;Kelly Osbourne&lt;/i&gt; hair-do. o.O&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Jessica Alba&lt;/i&gt; is clad in gorgeous gold Versace gown, &lt;i&gt;Jennifer Garner&lt;/i&gt; in glittery Michael Kors and &lt;i&gt;Nicole Kidman&lt;/i&gt; in a classic Balenciaga.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I love &lt;i&gt;Reese Witherspoon&lt;/i&gt;! Looking stunning in a vintage Christian Dior gown, I'm not surprised she won an Oscar for her performance in &lt;b&gt;Walk the Line&lt;/b&gt;. Whee!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm dying to know who designed &lt;i&gt;Karolina Kurkova&lt;/i&gt;'s dress. That, would be my favourite. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114165214558845532?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114165214558845532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114165214558845532&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114165214558845532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114165214558845532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/03/red-carpet-edition.html' title='the red carpet edition'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114162651066089028</id><published>2006-03-06T14:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-06T14:32:26.720+08:00</updated><title type='text'>jessica simpson's syndrome</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I swear I'll gain 15kg in no time just like &lt;a href="http://www.thesuperficial.com/archives/2006/03/02/jessica_simpson_getting_fat.html"&gt;Jessica Simpson&lt;/a&gt; if I do not stop the way I eat soon. No, I'm not having relationship breakdown or getting a divorce. It's been a weird few days with weird cravings and excessive food binging.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I could only remember I've been eating lots of pastas, &lt;i&gt;Pringles&lt;/i&gt;, chocolate and ice-cream. Yesterday morning I started off with mangoes and somehow after that I managed to include &lt;i&gt;Pringles&lt;/i&gt; in as well. I actually had &lt;i&gt;Pringles&lt;/i&gt; for breakfast! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;S brought me out for a nice dinner and I just binge and binge non stop. I don't usually have entree because I wouldn't be able to finish my main course if I have them but the succulent sizzling garlic prawns are just so tempting I ended up finishing most of it and left S with nothing but some French bread and olives. The worst is yet to come, I actually finished my main course this time around. And I manage to down a glass of wine too! I don't feel exactly bloated although I do not have room for desert anymore. I'm convinced my tummy has expanded twice the size it used to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This morning, I started off with cereals and ended up with ice-cream and &lt;i&gt;Pringles&lt;/i&gt; (again!) for brekkie. I really need to pad-lock the fridge!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114162651066089028?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114162651066089028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114162651066089028&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114162651066089028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114162651066089028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/03/jessica-simpsons-syndrome.html' title='jessica simpson&apos;s syndrome'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114140427044955213</id><published>2006-03-03T12:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-04T00:49:52.856+08:00</updated><title type='text'>yay! long weekend</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm so happy this coming Monday is a public holiday! But wait, not for Uni students. S is still at uni, my girls are as well so that just leaves me and my dogs celebrating. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Tomorrow is gonna be extremely hectic. I'm going in to help out at second mum's restaurant in the morning and go back later in the evening as well. Then there is lunch with S in between (I can't avoid him for some reason - God please just kill me), probably some shopping - it's gonna be window shopping this time around as I'm on a budget at the moment. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This month would be the first time in my life paying Dad my credit card debt (not exactly a debt coz he gave me the card). He didn't ask for it but I should have stopped spending my parents money a long time ago. I'm just not earning enough to fund my life at the moment. I need a boyfriend who is willing to spend on me. Desperately. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Shopping woe and money matters aside, I've been having weird cravings these days. Last night it was cheeseburger, this morning I had craving for &lt;i&gt;KFC&lt;/i&gt; boneless chicken and I've been drooling over apple strudels from this particular shop since 2 weeks ago but I managed to suppress the feeling so far.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've been deprived from reading lately. I miss a good book! I want to go to movies more often as well. The last one I watched, &lt;a href="http://movies.yahoo.com/shop?d=hv&amp;cf=info&amp;amp;id=1808746648"&gt;Hostel&lt;/a&gt; is just plain disturbing. It's the only Tarantino movie that I dislike. He's not the director though but really, no plot, excessive gruesome violence and torture - I don't need that. No one does, unless of course if you're lunatic. Or a sadist.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Anyway, it's time for me to go to bed. Goodnight and dream of moi... ;-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114140427044955213?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114140427044955213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114140427044955213&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114140427044955213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114140427044955213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/03/yay-long-weekend.html' title='yay! long weekend'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114130397728741942</id><published>2006-03-02T20:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-02T20:52:57.310+08:00</updated><title type='text'>tonight i have craving for cheeseburger</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Whenever I go to &lt;i&gt;McDonalds&lt;/i&gt;, I only ask for 3 things:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1. 6 pieces of nuggets&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;2. A small fries&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;3. An apple pie&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;But I'm having craving for their cheeseburger right now!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Badly!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I hate cravings because they absolutely drive me insane. Thank God it's just 9pm right now. At least &lt;i&gt;McDonalds&lt;/i&gt; is still open.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114130397728741942?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114130397728741942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114130397728741942&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114130397728741942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114130397728741942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/03/tonight-i-have-craving-for.html' title='tonight i have craving for cheeseburger'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114119071574900415</id><published>2006-03-01T13:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-01T16:05:44.700+08:00</updated><title type='text'>i heart today's weather</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Before I dozed off last night, I've already planned what outfit I'll wear for the next day since I'm gonna go out to do grocery shopping.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm not sure it's just me or some girls do experience this as well but sometimes, I can't sleep and I got annoyed when I can't put an outfit together for the next day. My last resort would be during shower the next day where I have 15 minutes to think about it. And if it fails, it really spoils my day. Yes, I can be that naive at times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I also have this tendency of matching my bra and panty/g-string with the outfit I'm wearing. I know no one is seeing it but it makes me feel good knowing that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Anyway, I was so ecstatic looking out the window as I woke up this morning. It's beautiful. There is &lt;b&gt;no&lt;/b&gt; scorching hot sun waiting to kill me. Wohoo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm dressed in a black spaghetti strap topped with a short sleeve bolero over it and the shortest jeans short I could find in my wardrobe, just so because it's really much more convenient since I have to do a lot of walking. I'll have to be simple with accessories because I'm just doing grocery shopping and not some glam function hence it's just a simple pink necklace which one of my girls got me when she was in Spain. Pink because I'll be wearing my light pink Havaianas. And a pair of silver hoops earrings to team up with my silver bangle. Bag would have to be black because too much pink will make me look silly, wouldn't it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Now that I'm not exactly talking to S so I have to eat my heart out lugging groceries by myself. But of course I'd like to look gorgeous in the process of doing so. *winks*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Have a nice day because I'm pretty sure I will!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114119071574900415?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114119071574900415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114119071574900415&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114119071574900415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114119071574900415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-heart-todays-weather.html' title='i heart today&apos;s weather'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114111139799231386</id><published>2006-02-28T15:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-28T16:28:48.123+08:00</updated><title type='text'>my secret, your secret</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It is 36 degrees outside, how can I not feel hot? I was supposed to meet my girls for lunch at Uni but I just can't bring myself to step out the house under such weather. So here I am, staying in thinking what should I do on a freaking burning hot afternoon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I checked in &lt;a href="http://www.postsecret.blogspot.com"&gt;PostSecret&lt;/a&gt; as usual and the postcard that reads,&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm afraid to go to the doctor because I'm afraid he will tell me that I have some awful disease and that I'm going to die young"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;hit me right away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;i&gt;used to&lt;/i&gt; feel that way when I was much younger. It's weird but I guess I was afraid of dying. Now, I'm feeling alright with the thought of it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've been a reader of &lt;i&gt;PostSecret&lt;/i&gt; for quite a while now. The website used to have archives before it became popular and I'd enjoyed browsing through them, sharing the emotions that each person has gone through, be it happiness or sadness. Now, the website is only updated once a week and the archives have been removed. Not surprising because the author just published a book titled, of course, &lt;i&gt;PostSecret&lt;/i&gt;. As much as I don't like the fact that it is commercialized, I bought the book from&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com"&gt;Amazon&lt;/a&gt; and I'll donate it to my local library as soon as I finish looking through it. You don't actually "read" postcards, do you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Speaking of secrets, I've been hiding some "upsetting news" from S. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My girls dislike him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Not just my girls but their boyfriends, one of my dogs, my sisters (although they've not met him), my housemates, almost anyone I know apart from H. But then again, we met through H so that makes H his friend as well. I'll dislike him too if I didn't know him I supposed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Heck, I don't even know why. Sorry can't answer that question! It's not the fact what people think about S that upset me so much, it's the fact that they &lt;i&gt;pointed&lt;/i&gt; out my inner thoughts. I honestly don't know why I'm with this guy. It's probably because the sex is good. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114111139799231386?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114111139799231386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114111139799231386&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114111139799231386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114111139799231386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/02/my-secret-your-secret.html' title='my secret, your secret'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114040426639633002</id><published>2006-02-20T10:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-20T10:57:46.430+08:00</updated><title type='text'>if you have three girls</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Second mum has three daughters. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Her eldest girl, N, is in her early 20s. If there is anything I noticed about her, it will be her bossiness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;"You do things this way". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;"No you're wrong I tell you so you better do it this way". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Oh and she takes advantage of her parents. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;So she works nearby from the restaurant. She comes in for free lunch everyday and free coffee every few hours. Not to mention she buys lunch for her colleagues and what not without paying a single cents. She probably sells it to them for discounted price and pockets the money herself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Now why am I not surprised?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Whenever she took money for the restaurant to buy some stuff for the restaurant, she &lt;i&gt;never&lt;/i&gt; return the change. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Supposingly your parents own a restaurant. Would really go in and eat without paying? I mean, come on, they're running a business not a charity home. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Her second girl, S, is in college. She is an angel. Everyone loves her. She is the only one that helps second mum around the house. She keeps her room neat and tidy. And to top it off, she is the best looking one among the three according to a lot of people. I reckon her youngest sis is the one prettier though. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;But really, anyone with such a heart would be gorgeous. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;C, the youngest girl is the princess of the family. Literally. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;She doesn't lift a finger to do anything fearing her nails will chip. She is very rebellious and she is constantly spending money she did not earn and she gets whatever she wants coz second mum couldn't bear seeing her sulking and being unhappy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Second mum found out not long ago she smokes weed as well. Don't get me wrong, I really do not have anything against people who smokes weed coz my girls do that sometimes. But at the bloody age of 16? I would just like to think this is a passing phase for her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Or at least I hope so.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114040426639633002?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114040426639633002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114040426639633002&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114040426639633002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114040426639633002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/02/if-you-have-three-girls.html' title='if you have three girls'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114015582450450442</id><published>2006-02-17T13:56:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-17T20:02:51.206+08:00</updated><title type='text'>i heart myself</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I love my new &lt;i&gt;Sergio Rossi&lt;/i&gt; pump heels.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;*mwah* *mwah* *mwah*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I also found out that W went out for a date on Valentine's Day. Just dinner he said, nothing else. Pfft!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Note: For a limited time only, on special request by&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.chickybaberules.blogspot.com"&gt;ChickyBabe&lt;/a&gt;,&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I present to you&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.bluefly.com/pages/products/detail.jsp?PRODUCT%3C%3Eprd_id=2015878485&amp;FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=1167&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;referer=youramigo&amp;cm_ven=youramigo&amp;amp;cm_ite=product_page_link#"&gt;my baby&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;My camera fucked up so I have to look for the picture online instead.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Honestly, the picture doesn't do them justice.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114015582450450442?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114015582450450442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114015582450450442&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114015582450450442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114015582450450442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-heart-myself_17.html' title='i heart myself'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-114002020026461466</id><published>2006-02-16T00:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-16T00:42:25.063+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i'm completely delirious</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've been in a series of mishap since I woke up this morning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I went down to the city for lunch with my girls and I took out my cigarettes pouch instead of coin purse to pay for the parking. T was like, &lt;i&gt; "Dearie, they don't accept cigarettes as payment. This country doesn't run on barter system."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Then I almost dropped a glass of wine on the floor whilst at lunch. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I text my sis to find out how was her Valentine's and conveniently mentioned what pressies I got from S. Only to find out the sms was sent to S instead of sis. Smart woman I am. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;After lunch, we decided to walk around the city since it was a beautiful day. I wanted to have sweet so I opened the new pack and those sweets dropped and scattered all over the floor. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I almost tripped off whilst going up the escalator. I was one inch away from knocking my head on the lamp post coz my eyes were looking elsewhere. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I left my phone at the restaurant but luckily one of my friends noticed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My skirt flew up because it was windy. On a busy street. And everyone had a good view of my g-string. -_-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm just glad I'm &lt;i&gt;safely&lt;/i&gt; lying on my bed now and it's almost the end of the day. Phew...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Yesterday was absolutely amazing because &lt;i&gt;Love Potion 31&lt;/i&gt; is finally back in town. Although I was quite pissed off at the &lt;i&gt;Baskin-Robbins&lt;/i&gt; girl because she can't bloody pack ice-cream. Never in my entire &lt;i&gt;Baskin-Robbins&lt;/i&gt; history I've seen such a badly packed ice-cream. Not to mention she didn't weight it as well. But I'm just too happy to take it further.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;S was so proud proclaiming how he's been right all the while, that &lt;i&gt;Love Potion 31&lt;/i&gt; will be back on Valentine's Day but I was half-listening to him. I was enjoying my ice-cream and I just nodded and smiled at him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And he got me pressies. Which was kind of surprise because I really don't expect anything from him. I mean of course, I love receiving pressies. I'm materialistic. But I just don't expect he would do anything of that sort. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And I mixed up which boyfriends dedicated the love message to me on the newspaper. I thought it was S until I asked him for the fifth times and he kept on saying it wasn't him. I finally believed him. Come to think of it, he is never good with words. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It was W who dedicated the message, of course. How...Err... What's that word again? I really don't know. To me, it's not a big deal. And I don't like having flowers as pressie. Not that I'm choosy but flowers are just flowers. How unmaterialistic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Moi: I'm so sorry darling, I didn't get you anything&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: That's alright. Valentine's Day is meant to be for girls&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;How sweet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;That doesn't mean I'm heartless. Well, I loaned money to one of my girls just so that she could get her designer heels. She was smiling the whole afternoon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'll probably get their pressies later. Or maybe not because Valentine's Day is just well, flowers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to share this wonderful news with everyone. Second mum is alright after the operation. She's been eating well too. I haven't got a chance to visit her yet but we did had a good talk over the phone. The breast cancer wasn't "cancerous" if I make any sense. Hurrah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-114002020026461466?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/114002020026461466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=114002020026461466&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114002020026461466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/114002020026461466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/02/today-im-completely-delirious.html' title='today i&apos;m completely delirious'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-113947187612246068</id><published>2006-02-09T15:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T15:57:56.146+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i learn to love myself</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I had an argument with S a few nights ago. It was over the same old thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;He is not spending enough time with me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Everytime I have a fight with any of my loved ones, I'll go into the &lt;i&gt;zombie state&lt;/i&gt; where I'd refuse to eat. Not refuse, it's more like I lose appetite to eat. I'd cry and make myself depressed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I really don't know I'm doing this for sympathy but probably because in the past, this always worked out for me to get things my own way. W would always give in and he'd apologize even though it wasn't his fault at times. But with S, he would just leave me alone and let me sulk all I want. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;So I woke up this morning and I realized if I don't start treating myself well, no one will. I don't mean not that others don't care or love me but if I bring harm to myself, it's wouldn't benefit me would it? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I really don't see the point of tormenting myself although I'm generally a dark person. All my girls are like that to a certain extent. I think it was because we find it comfortable living pessimistically.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;As for S, I really don't want to think about it now. There is no point talking to him because he just wouldn't listen although he reckoned it was the other way round. I told him I would rather not see him anymore if I can't see him whenever I want. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-113947187612246068?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/113947187612246068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=113947187612246068&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113947187612246068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113947187612246068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/02/today-i-learn-to-love-myself.html' title='today i learn to love myself'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-113930301708172744</id><published>2006-02-07T17:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-07T17:05:00.580+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the current affair</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Life has been alright to me for the past week. Apart from the fact that I found out my lady boss has breast cancer. She is like my second mum and I could only pray that it's nothing too serious. She would have to go for an operation this Thursday. It was shocking but I've been trying not to think about it too much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Last Sunday was well spent. I was out at the city just to relax. It seemed incredibly quiet as people were flocking to the BDO somewhere away from the city. That could only mean one thing, a definite good day to shop!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I went to &lt;i&gt;Kookai&lt;/i&gt;. I ran out of ideas what to get so I just bought a top and a belt for a friend's belated birthday. I doubt I'm actually gonna wear the top come to think about it. I've always loved their skirts though. Okay, not all the time but close to that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The skirts from the new collection seem alright but I prefer the previous collection which of course, nothing much left and those that were there are heavily discounted. If there is one thing that I hate, it would be shopping in &lt;i&gt;Kookai&lt;/i&gt; during sale because some of the stuff that I bought not long ago were now discounted up to 75%. Ugh...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've been to &lt;i&gt;MNG&lt;/i&gt; a lot. I always manage to find tops that would be able to match my skirts and pants here. &lt;i&gt;MNG&lt;/i&gt; stuff are way much cheaper (half the price) back home but the feeling is different whenever I tried to shop there. The crowd is ridiculous because everyone can afford it and I can't find my size because girls are generally "smaller" back home. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm not getting S anything for Valentine's coz I think there isn't any need for it really. I just don't have the mood to shop for people these days. Not even myself. Weird! It is probably because my girls are not back yet, hence the kick is not there. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm still missing home a lot. I don't know when will I get over this but I really do hope it will be soon. I was so tempted to buy myself an air tix and fly back just for a few days but I doubt it's really gonna change anything. It would still be the same when I come back here. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm a sucker of &lt;a href="http://www.baskinrobbins.com.au"&gt;Baskin-Robbins&lt;/a&gt; and it's no longer a secret given the right time, which is all the time, I can down a medium size tub in an hour. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;On top of the list of my favourite flavours, it would be &lt;i&gt;Love Potion 31&lt;/i&gt;. It's vanilla raspberry ice-cream and it's suppose to come back in store for Valentine's Day. I've been harassing &lt;i&gt;Baskin-Robbins&lt;/i&gt; everyday asking whether the stock is in yet. I wasn't the only one. Apparently a lot of people have been asking for it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So dear &lt;i&gt;Baskin-Robbins&lt;/i&gt; headquarter in Sydney, LISTEN TO YOUR CUSTOMERS.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm beginning to lose my patience and I think it's a ridiculously stupid marketing idea to not give the customers what they want when they're demanding it. I, for one is someone who has short attention span. I usually just let go. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This waiting game is frustrating. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And I hope second mum will be fine. God, please give her the strength to go through this. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-113930301708172744?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/113930301708172744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=113930301708172744&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113930301708172744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113930301708172744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/02/current-affair.html' title='the current affair'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-113894279796643767</id><published>2006-02-03T13:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T13:09:20.493+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i feel discriminated</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Discrimination is such a strong word that I almost never use it in any context. It just hit me out of sudden that it has been happening to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To start off with, when I came in to work this morning, my boss asked me to clean the bloody fridge. I do mean, literally bloody. From the red meat he puts in freezer. The freezer is not working well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, in my office there are 4 admin staff including myself. I just realized that he always asked me and this other girl, D to do all the "dirty" work like washing his dishes, etc. And co-incidentally, both of us are Asians. The other two girls never touched a single cup. No, I'm not being sensitive but like i said it just hit me today after 4 months so I'm not definitely thinking too much. My boss threw away the red meat yesterday and one of the other girls were here at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't he just fucking ask her to do it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Among other things, I get some people (strangers, friend's friend's sister's, strangers, etc) who looks at me weirdly or make crude remark becuase I look a little fat (because Asians are generally small size so you gotta be at least size 6 to be considered thin. Size 00 is favourable). I get THAT all the time from relatives. One thing I'm glad I wasn't back home for Lunar New Year. In contrary, over here I get some people who looks at me crudely because I look thin. And there were people who made remark that I have big boobs for a "thin" person. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the way I look and I'm glad I have "big" boobs and extra fats. Thank you for your concern. Bless your daughters. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I need retail therapy to distress, It's late night shopping tonight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-113894279796643767?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/113894279796643767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=113894279796643767&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113894279796643767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113894279796643767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/02/today-i-feel-discriminated.html' title='today i feel discriminated'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-113862493528502389</id><published>2006-01-30T20:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T20:42:18.033+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the woof year</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;It's been a quiet one for me as everyone back home was excited ushering into the year of Dog. This is my first time not actually being with my family during Chinese New Year. The good food, &lt;i&gt;ang pow&lt;/i&gt;, alcohol, yummylicious home made cookies, poker games, gossip sessions and most of all the only time to catch up with relatives and friends that I seldom see. I can't believe I'm missing all that!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;During the past, I always thought that  CNY is incredibly over-rated. I take back my words. Now I feel exactly what it means by the saying, &lt;i&gt;home is where the heart belongs&lt;/i&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Since I got back, I only swiped Dad's card once for the silly amount of $12.61. Okay so I lied. I didn't take into account the alcohol and ciggies I bought at Changi. Not to mention the &lt;i&gt;Bobbi Brown&lt;/i&gt; moisturizer and some Stila cosmetics. But that was in S$. It is different. I'm really proud of myself. I used to spend at least $1000 a month from Dad. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I don't know whether it was the realization that money is hard to earn or I'm just a little bit lost at the moment. I don't shop as much as well. I've only bought two skirts since I came back. &lt;i&gt;Two&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I don't feel particularly happy either. Please pass me the &lt;i&gt;prozac&lt;/i&gt;, thank you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-113862493528502389?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/113862493528502389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=113862493528502389&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113862493528502389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113862493528502389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/01/woof-year.html' title='the woof year'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-113792351337393679</id><published>2006-01-22T17:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-22T20:22:10.526+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i'm bored shitless</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm bored. I'm so fucking bored I'm ready to slap somebody.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This happen almost every Sunday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I wanted to go out but the weather is too hot. I'm still on my hay fever medication. That means retail therapy is out of question.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I wanted to read but I've finished reading James Patterson's &lt;i&gt;Mary, Mary&lt;/i&gt; on Friday itself. I thought I'd be able to read it over the weekend but I just simply couldn't resist it. I thought of watching DVDs but I need to get to the video store to rent it. Ugh. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My close friends are still on summer break, they're not in the country. So no girly talk, shopping, manicure, bitching sessions for at least another month.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;S will be at work till late today so I won't be seeing him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I thought of cleaning my room but it looks clean enough to go by. Hey, I'm a neat person! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My so-called diet is completely fucked up. My tummy still look big. Let me see, yesterday I've had:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- a glass of chocolate soy milk for brekkie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- rice with tandoori chicken for brunch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- rockmelon, lychees and banana for snack&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- coffee and half a pack of &lt;b&gt;shapes&lt;/b&gt; (junk food alert!) for cinema snack &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- apple pie for dinner since I was pretty full from the snack I had in the cinema&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm getting so inconsistent with my food intake that I didn't know what to eat. Well, I just had 2 glasses of alcohol an hour ago. It's unhealthy I know. -_-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Can someone please tell me what else can I do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-113792351337393679?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/113792351337393679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=113792351337393679&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113792351337393679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113792351337393679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/01/today-im-bored-shitless.html' title='today i&apos;m bored shitless'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-113772827308566925</id><published>2006-01-20T11:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-20T11:45:11.020+08:00</updated><title type='text'>dangerous game</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This &lt;a p="262"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://waiterrant.net/?p=262"&gt;touches&lt;/a&gt; my heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This makes me &lt;a&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trent.blogspot.com"&gt;laugh&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I choose not to publish links of blogs that I read everyday just so because the world is getting smaller. My world is. I can feel &lt;i&gt;him&lt;/i&gt; being so close to me and I most definitely do not want him to discover me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;If someone who knows me in real life probes further into this space, that person will know instantly that it has been me all the while. I feel so bare...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-113772827308566925?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/113772827308566925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=113772827308566925&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113772827308566925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113772827308566925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/01/dangerous-game.html' title='dangerous game'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-113766201445102925</id><published>2006-01-19T17:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-19T19:47:49.280+08:00</updated><title type='text'>s is for stupid seamstress</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Not long ago, the button from one of my favourite cardigans came off so I brought it to the tailor to be mended since I do not have the same colour thread.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I asked the seamstress if they've got the exact thread for the button and she nodded her head and answered with a very certain &lt;i&gt;yes&lt;/i&gt;. She charged me $2 to mend a tiny button which is not a big deal really. I would even pay $10 as long as I get the same colour thread. I happily passed my cardigan to her and went on to do some shopping. Retail therapy is good for health after all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;When I came back to collect the cardigan, to my horror, the button was sewn using a different colour shade of thread. So I pointed at the mismatched thread and told her that the other lady told me they've got the exact same colour.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;She replied with a cold reply, &lt;i&gt;"Oh, no one will notice this anyway. I do that to my expensive clothes all the time."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I was absolutely gutted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Just so because it is just a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Kookai &lt;/span&gt;cheap $39 cardigan and not some expensive garment, that does not mean it's allowed to have mismatched thread no matter how insignificant it seems because I'm wearing it. I noticed it. Above all, it should be done whichever way I like it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I vow never to go back to that place again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-113766201445102925?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/113766201445102925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=113766201445102925&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113766201445102925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113766201445102925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/01/s-is-for-stupid-seamstress.html' title='s is for stupid seamstress'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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-9922094.post-113747819845430421</id><published>2006-01-17T14:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-17T14:10:31.153+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the one desire</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Last night somewhat in between our phone conversation:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: So what are we doing tomorrow night?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;S: I don't know yet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: Think of something!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;S: What do you wanna do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: I wanna have sex with you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-113747819845430421?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/113747819845430421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=113747819845430421&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113747819845430421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113747819845430421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/01/one-desire.html' title='the one desire'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-113742234782577496</id><published>2006-01-16T22:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-17T12:23:45.830+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i'm on a fruit diet</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;When the plane touched down yesterday, I almost died. The weather here is seriously killing me. Bloody 33 degrees!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've gained weight. I think I've probably put on 2kg and I look ridiculously fat when I wear my low waist jeans with the fats hanging out like a 3 month pregnant woman.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Being the smart ass that I am not, I decided to binge on food back home. I guess no one can resist Ma's cooking, at least not me. And the sumptuous local cuisine. I've been practically eating half of the time when I was awake. I still miss &lt;i&gt;durian&lt;/i&gt; though (I wished it is part of my current diet but durians are so costly here and they don't taste half as good). Oh well... There is no point whinging really.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've been eating fruit the whole day, with the occassional cup of coffee and milo. I'm keeping away from ice-cream, chocolate and junk food for 2 weeks. Okay, probably not chocolate. I can never resist them but I'm definitely cutting down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It's been a wonderful trip. I got to catch up with some of my friends which I've not seen for years. A very close friend of mine just got engaged recently. Does that means I'm getting older? I'm not admitting it. :-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Shopping in Kuala Lumpur is brilliant as usual. The stores range from high-end &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.anyahindmarch.com"&gt;Anya Hindmarch&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.tods.com"&gt;Tod's&lt;/a&gt; to cheapos like &lt;a href="http://www.zara.com"&gt;Zara&lt;/a&gt; . I love &lt;i&gt;Zara&lt;/i&gt; stuff! Anyway, Pa makes more noise when I shop back home although I spend way less compared to back in Aus so I didn't really buy a lot of things. Aussie Dollar is almost 3 times higher than Ringgit Malaysia. Dads are weird creatures I tell you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm gonna get a good rest now. I need to look good for my date with S tomorrow night *winks*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-113742234782577496?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/113742234782577496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=113742234782577496&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113742234782577496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113742234782577496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2006/01/today-im-on-fruit-diet.html' title='today i&apos;m on a fruit diet'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-113582979246300953</id><published>2005-12-29T12:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-29T12:17:26.296+08:00</updated><title type='text'>greetings from malaysia</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've arrived back home sound and safe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Upon my arrival in the morning, I went to bed and sleep the whole day. This is what happen whenever I catch a midnight flight. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I met Pa at Changi Airport as he's flying out and I was in transit. We had a good chat over brekkie but I just couldn't concentrate. All I was thinking was my comfy princess bed back at home. Hehe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Anyway, I gotta go now. I'm gonna go catch a movie. &lt;i&gt;King Kong&lt;/i&gt; here I come! :-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;*Hugs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-113582979246300953?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/113582979246300953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=113582979246300953&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113582979246300953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113582979246300953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/12/greetings-from-malaysia.html' title='greetings from malaysia'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-113559518522142181</id><published>2005-12-26T19:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-26T19:17:35.086+08:00</updated><title type='text'>joy on my world</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I know it's a little bit late but &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Merry Christmas&lt;/span&gt;, folks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This couple of days has been a roller-coaster for me. Painful ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Friday Night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; I had a bad headache. Went to bed at 9pm. Should have been out partying and downing heaps of &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Malibu&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;. Grrr....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Saturday Daytime&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Stayed on bed the whole day with Nurofen as my friend. And my soft toys as well. S, on the other hand is out by himself doing last minute shopping. We were supposed to catch &lt;i&gt;King Kong&lt;/i&gt; together. But the best is yet to come. I rang up David Jones at 4pm to check out when the store will be opened after Christmas. &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;There will be a huge sale on the 27th which is tomorrow. David Jones and Myer in the city will be opened at 8am!!&lt;/span&gt; I know sale started today on the Eastern States &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Chickybabe, did you shop a lot on behalf of me?)&lt;/span&gt; but at least I don't have to wait till Wednesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Saturday Night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt; Went to work for a couple of hours. Came home and fell asleep almost immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Sunday Daytime&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt; Attended W's niece birthday party. It was boring. I fell asleep on his 3 year old nephew's bed. He too, fell asleep next to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Sunday Night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt; I was invited to dinner at S' uncle place. I've finally met his parents, sister and a few of his close relatives for the first time. It was weird. I don't give a damn to be honest just so because I don't have to please his parents being the son's girlfriend but I felt bad somehow. Of course I was nice to everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bottom-line, it's hard juggling between two boyfriends despite the fact one is on another continent and doesn't know the existence of the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, I did get a Furla as pressie. As well as a pair of earrings and a box of chocolates. S can be such a darling sometimes. I wish everyday is Christmas now. He loves the shirt and belt I got him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Yay! It's more shopping tomorrow and I'm flying home to see Papa, Mami and my devilish sisters tomorrow midnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);font-family:arial;" &gt;Happy Holidays people! Have extra Malibu for moi. And of course, shop twice the amount on behalf of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-113559518522142181?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/113559518522142181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=113559518522142181&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113559518522142181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113559518522142181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/12/joy-on-my-world.html' title='joy on my world'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-113509911955912983</id><published>2005-12-21T01:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-21T01:18:39.816+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i'm tired of shopping</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Really. It's true. I do feel that way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I've been practically out almost everyday to the shops (where else?). Of course I have more time off work now since Christmas is just around the corner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;But there isn't anything to buy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I walked into &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kookai&lt;/span&gt;. I walked out after 5 minutes. Boring skirts going on for $149. I have a few of similar designs, new ones lying in my wardrobe (the material and designs don't really change. It gets boring after a while). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I walked into &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Witchery&lt;/span&gt;. I walked out before I even browse anything. I'm too short to wear anything from Witchery. And they have plain colours. White. Brown. Grey, Pale purple. Pale pink. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Then there is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Country Road&lt;/span&gt;. Too old for me! But they've got nice menswear and home stuff. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I'm desperately looking for a pair of heels. Preferably black. I couldn't find anything that I like. Those that I've seen are just alright. Why are shoes from &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nine West&lt;/span&gt; so over-priced? And why are kids clothing so expensive? I love &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pumpkin Patch&lt;/span&gt; though. They're reasonable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I love&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; David Jones&lt;/span&gt;. I love David Jones and I adore David Jones. Just so because I get to stand there for an hour deciding which &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;OneTeaspoon&lt;/span&gt; top to get for sis and ended up getting her a top from &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Wheels &amp; Dollbaby &lt;/span&gt;instead. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I've always prefer &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Myer&lt;/span&gt; over David Jones for some strange reasons but lately, I seem to find that place boring and the clothes don't really appeal to me. I'm intrigued by this brand named &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Review&lt;/span&gt;. I like it but I've never try on any of those clothes. Somehow it just seems so not me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I don't buy clothes from &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Target&lt;/span&gt;. No matter how cheap they are. They're not exactly cheap by the way. If it's Target United States then it's different because Isaac Mizrahi designs the woman collection the last time I heard. If only they import his stuff. Or copy his stuff. Since it's Target anyway but no, dream on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I don't even know what to get for S. I've only managed to get him a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Morrissey&lt;/span&gt; long-sleeve shirt which I fell in love instantly when I walked into the store (damn, why I don't have that mutual feelings with shoes??!?). Anyway, I was thinking of teaming that shirt up with something else just so that it doesn't look like &lt;i&gt;just a shirt&lt;/i&gt; as pressie. I fell in love with a&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Hugo Boss&lt;/span&gt; tie but I doubt he will wear it very often.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; I know my mind works weirdly.  I got him perfume and some after-shave kit for his birthday not long ago and I seriously ran out of ideas now. Come to think about it, that Morrissey will do, won't it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I need to buy a pressie for T, a very close girlfriend of mine. Would anyone kindly give me some ideas? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Does anyone know if  those &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;MOR&lt;/span&gt; body butters are any good? They smell nice to me for sure! I love the &lt;i&gt;Marshmallow&lt;/i&gt; ones. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;On an unrelated note, I wanna watch &lt;i&gt;King Kong&lt;/i&gt;. I've been waiting since last week but S is too busy to accompany me and I don't wanna watch it without waiting for him. I'm catching the first instalment of &lt;i&gt;The Chronicles Narnia&lt;/i&gt; with him this coming Thursday though. I can't wait!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-113509911955912983?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/113509911955912983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=113509911955912983&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113509911955912983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113509911955912983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/12/today-im-tired-of-shopping.html' title='today i&apos;m tired of shopping'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-113489570030206942</id><published>2005-12-18T16:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-18T18:01:03.203+08:00</updated><title type='text'>of shopping and boyfriend</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Tip number 101 for guys out there:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Never ever buy your girlfriend's pressie in front of her (not literally) and then come up with excuses like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Useless excuse no. 1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: What was that you're holding on your hand? What did you get from David Jones?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Him: Oh... Something for my dad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: I thought you got his pressie last week? And I helped you to pick it, remember?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Stupid excuse no. 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: Show it to me, will you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Him: No, I can't&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: Why not? It's for me isn't it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Him: It's not for you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: Then there is no problem showing it to me is there?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Him: I stole it from one of the lady in the store and this is not the right place to open it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: Then she wouldn't suspected it if I open it right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Him: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;(speechless)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Equally idiotic excuse no. 3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: Okay, this is not funny. If it's for me, just admit it and I won't touch it or ask about it anymore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Him: For the millionth time, it is NOT for you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: THEN SHOW IT TO ME&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Him: This person I'm giving to has a phobia of people looking at his present. And he would know if the present has been looked at. I didn't know how he could tell but he just does&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; (Silently cursing WTF)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Yeah right. I know what it is. It's a bag and it's for me. It's a Furla to be precise and if I get that bag for Christmas, you have to give me $200 on top of it because I well damn know I'm right&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Him: It's not for you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: It's a bag, right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Him: No it's not!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: Whatever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Absolutely rubbish no-more-excuses-yet-in-denial excuse no. 4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: Remember, you said it's not a bag earlier so if it turns to be, I'm getting my $200&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Him: I didn't say it wasn't a bag. I said it wasn't for you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;(smirking over the phone)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-113489570030206942?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/113489570030206942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=113489570030206942&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113489570030206942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113489570030206942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/12/of-shopping-and-boyfriend.html' title='of shopping and boyfriend'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-113454003278658466</id><published>2005-12-14T13:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T14:02:13.906+08:00</updated><title type='text'>woe is me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I can't believe this!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I woke up just in time to place the final bid for one of the bags I've been eyeing on E-bay. I looked at the status and it indicated that there are 4 minutes left before the auction ends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So I happily key in the amount and waited. It was going at $135 and I'm willing to pay up to $200 for that gorgeous black tote. Out of a sudden, the fucking internet connection dropped. Suffice to say, I didn't win the auction because I didn't get a chance to bid for it thanks to my fucking internet connection. ARGH! Of all time!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And now the internet is working perfectly well. Faster than usual! I can't believe the lucky devil who got away buying that tote for $135. What a bargain. Needless to say, it spoilt my whole morning. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I need to chill. I'm going down to the city to grab some wrapping papers and ribbons to help S wrap pressies. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Chill, chica. Chill. It will be alright. There is always next time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Chill...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;ARGHHH!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-113454003278658466?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/113454003278658466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=113454003278658466&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113454003278658466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113454003278658466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/12/woe-is-me.html' title='woe is me'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-113430079250966680</id><published>2005-12-11T19:33:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-19T21:16:45.936+08:00</updated><title type='text'>shopping is a pain, for once</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I deserved to be in bed the whole day today because I didn't get a good sleep on Friday night. S stayed over for the first time and I'm just not used to having someone else sleeping next to me. I was down with flu and it was annoying me so I could barely sleep. We had to be up fairly early (read:8am) because he wanted me to go Christmas shopping with him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It was a nightmare really. Except that this happened on a daytime. Let me re-iterate. Shopping with S is a nightmare. On a few separate occassions in the span of six hours:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: Get lipgloss for sis. Lancome juicy tubes are alright I supposed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: Too expensive. What about a purse?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: Wouldn't that be more expensive?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: You're right. But let's get her a purse&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: WTF!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;At the handbags department.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: Pick one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I randomly pointed at a DKNY monogram canary color purse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: That looks nice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: $119. Too expensive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: You just bought a $400 PSP for yourself, $119 is nothing right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: But this is for my sister. And she hates me. She won't like whatever I buy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: You don't want to buy something for the sake of buying it. You would want her to love it and actually use it instead of dumping aside in 'crappy-pressies-I-would-rather-die-than-use-these-section'. If you don't know what to buy, get her a voucher from David Jones perhaps?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: But I want people to think I'm thoughtful rather than just giving a gift voucher and ask them to get whatever they want&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: I'd love a gift voucher better than anything pressies that I might not like&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: Okay, I'll buy her those lipgloss&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: ?!?!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;At the perfume store picking some pressies for his female cousins. We were staring at some miniatures with cute packagings. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: Help me pick something for them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: How old are they? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: 16 and 19&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: Try that Lolita Lempicka, it has cute packaging with purple-ish fake flowers. It smells nice too. I love the packaging, very feminine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: Okay, get that and 'Sicily' by Dolce and Gabbana&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I stared at that boring bottle shape of 'Sicily' and thought, it looks a bit grandma-ish. Nevertheless, I asked the salesgirl to give me a tester. I'm right, it smells really grandma-ish. No offence to people who love D &amp; G perfumes, I'm just never a fan of them. I understand that different people have different taste but seriously, 'Sicily' smells too &lt;i&gt;old&lt;/i&gt; for a 19 year old let alone a 16 year old. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: Sweetheart, Emily is 16, not 61. Let me pick something else alright&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: How would I know? That 'Sicily' looks nice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: You gotta be kidding me. The packaging is conservative and boring. You have such a bad taste, sweetie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;At the end, the salesgirl and I picked a lovely light hearted summer perfume, 'D'Ete' by Kenzo gift set for Emily. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It was so exasperating putting up with S that it's not funny. When I stopped to look at my stuff, he was all upset just because I didn't inform him. I'm not a 3 years old girl, I can take care of myself and there is always something called mobile phone that comes in handy if you 'lost' someone in the crowd. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I told him I'm never ever going shopping with him again. He is persuading me to change my mind as his Christmas shopping is not done yet and he promised he'll be good this time. Hah! (We'll see about that but I don't trust him). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;*Sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-113430079250966680?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/113430079250966680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=113430079250966680&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113430079250966680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113430079250966680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/12/shopping-is-pain-for-once.html' title='shopping is a pain, for once'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-113370560931899403</id><published>2005-12-04T22:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-04T22:21:11.353+08:00</updated><title type='text'>here and back again</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It feel as though I've just stopped blogging last week when in fact it's been about 7 weeks! :-D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm such a lazy bum. I'm still very much alive and life has been as twisted as ever. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;W came back for a 2 week holidays sometime ago. We kissed, we held hands, we teased each other like small kiddos, we're in fact still very much together. But we did not have sex. Just how weird is that I find myself no longer attracted to him the way I used to. Yet, why do I still hold onto this relationship? And how peculiar that deep down inside me, there is a little voice that keeps on reminding me, somehow, I'll ended up marrying this guy. Goodness, NO! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Another thing that I found really disturbing is the fact that both of us are so comfortable and getting used to life without each other for the past 8 months that we have different prorities. He only got me a bouquet of flowers for birthday and I was waiting and waiting...and waiting for my pressie but it never came. Cheap ass bastard. So in return, I got him nothing for his birthday. :-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I know I'm supposed to be independant now but do bear in mind that I've always been his princess. And I did so much shopping for him whilst he was here. He, on the other hand splurged on himself. Well, it's probably karma for cheating on him. I accepted that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;S has been lovely on the other hand, we've been so much closer compared to before and I'm afraid it's turning into more than sex. It has always been for me since I'm an emotional wreck (sort of) but he seems to be much more attached to me. It's been a good 9 months yet I can't make up my mind. I'm just waiting for someone to find out and tell W that I've been cheating on him. Karma will find its way back to me, mark my words. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Oh, and I've just bid on a tote bag on e-bay and I regretted instantly. I'm praying that someone would outbid me but otherwise, I guess I'll just buy the bag. It isn't that bad. I'll just be $200 poorer (and it's probably a fake too, who knows!). This is probably one of the silliest mistakes I've ever make when it comes to shopping. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I just hope good things will come my way soon. Can't wait for the holidays to begin! I have a very strong feeling that I'll be getting the Ferragamo flats as Christmas pressie. *winks*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-113370560931899403?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/113370560931899403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=113370560931899403&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113370560931899403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/113370560931899403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/12/here-and-back-again.html' title='here and back again'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112843521396838555</id><published>2005-10-04T22:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-04T22:18:45.786+08:00</updated><title type='text'>musing and rambling</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The word that I've been using a lot lately is &lt;i&gt;tired&lt;/i&gt;. I'm extremely exhausted from work. Hey, I have not only one but two jobs now. :-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I know I've been missing (sort of) without any notice. I'm not sure whether people still drop by every now and then to check out this space but anyway, I guess I need to write. Whinging would be the more precise word. After all, I'm not a writer. I'm a drama queen. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Well, my birthday came and went without anything special. I worked from 8-12am. Yep, that was about 16 hours straight. I was waiting for S to call the whole day but he did not. We had an argument a couple of days before hand and I told him I don't wanna see him ever again. He took that seriously coz he reckoned I said it too often and he started believing it (Guys...I give up on them). See, that was how pride killed me. It made me extremely unhappy. On the other hand, I &lt;i&gt;am&lt;/i&gt; his girlfriend (sort of). It still doesn't justified the fact that he didn't contact me on &lt;i&gt;my birthday&lt;/i&gt;. We had argument about that too. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Of course, we made up and make out after a few days of shouting and silence over the phone. And we live happily ever after...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Not. Yet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm still waiting for my post birthday pampering. I told him that. I want a birthday cake, pressies, lots of hugs and kisses (read: sex) and he's supposed to make up to me. I'm still waiting for that coz he's currently having exams. It better be good. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've been splurging so much lately. I got some cosmetics from &lt;a href="http://www.stilacosmetics.com/"&gt;Stila&lt;/a&gt; among other things. I just realized they're helluva expensive here. The price of an eye-shadow here costs thrice the price back home. And I totally forgot about E-bay. Stila cosmetics are way cheaper in the States even with the shipping costs included. Oh, and my baby gorgeous pretty shoes arrived on time in excellent condition but it was half a size too small for me. I can never understand the sizing in States. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I splurged on S too. It was my first time buying clothes for him and I am just glad he loves them. Maybe he pretended that he did but I reckon I'm just thinking too much. By right, it should be the other way round.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I shall wait for my fairytale post-birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112843521396838555?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112843521396838555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112843521396838555&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112843521396838555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112843521396838555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/10/musing-and-rambling.html' title='musing and rambling'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112731417122735814</id><published>2005-09-21T22:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-22T21:15:17.386+08:00</updated><title type='text'>ghost of the past</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It's been exactly one year since Ell left. I remembered it better than anyone else because it was on my birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;For some fucking reasons, I have not had a happy birthday celebration for the past two years because I was hurt emotionally by people whom I've came to love so much. These individuals that I actually see myself being with for the rest of my life. Not that it matters much because birthday is just like any other day. However, I &lt;i&gt;deserve&lt;/i&gt; to be pampered at the very least. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I hate S for bringing back the memories I tried so hard to forget. I've been hurt back then and I just can't believe I allowed him to do this to me now. All I ever wanted was for him to care for me just a little bit more. Using tiredness and not having enough time as excuses are totally ancient by now. I've heard that too many times. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Why does it seems I'm the only one compromising here?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112731417122735814?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112731417122735814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112731417122735814&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112731417122735814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112731417122735814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/09/ghost-of-past.html' title='ghost of the past'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112654678404248554</id><published>2005-09-13T01:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-14T11:54:31.440+08:00</updated><title type='text'>e-bay e-diot</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;That stupid e-bay seller has not reply my e-mail and the auction for the pretty shoes (in time for spring!) I am gonna bid for will end in 3 hours. There are a few things which I need to know before buying those shoes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Just &lt;b&gt;don't&lt;/b&gt; sell stuff if you have no intention of seeing the sales go through. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Wasting my precious time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is breaking my heart too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The shoes that could have been mine!! Ugh... *pouts*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;UPDATE: The seller replied after the auction has ended. Anyway, I've sealed the transaction off e-bay as I wanted those shoes badly although it's not recommended to do so. Let's just see if my baby arrives next week. *beams*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112654678404248554?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112654678404248554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112654678404248554&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112654678404248554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112654678404248554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/09/e-bay-e-diot.html' title='e-bay e-diot'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112602398189273636</id><published>2005-09-07T00:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-07T00:27:06.730+08:00</updated><title type='text'>karma is a bitch sometimes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;S has been rather moody these days. He's been complaining, swearing (not at me) and whatever that came out from his mouth just frustrates me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I know he's been busy working and studying full-time, he hardly gets any sleep and I &lt;i&gt;do&lt;/i&gt; appreciate it when he tries to make time to see me. What I &lt;i&gt;do not&lt;/i&gt; appreciate is when he's venting out his frustrations at me. This happened twice in a row on a different day I went out with him. When he realized I wasn't too happy being treated that way, he apologized. As though that's really gonna make up for what I have to put up with the entire evening. &lt;i&gt;No, it takes more than just saying sorry...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Karma is probably biting me back for what I did but enough is enough.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm gonna go do some reading and watch DVDs. Oh, and those yummylicious chocolates are waiting for me. I don't care if the chocolates are gonna make me sicker but I need to cure my depression first. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112602398189273636?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112602398189273636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112602398189273636&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112602398189273636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112602398189273636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/09/karma-is-bitch-sometimes.html' title='karma is a bitch sometimes'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112591642077768116</id><published>2005-09-05T18:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-05T19:29:58.500+08:00</updated><title type='text'>tis the season to sparkle</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It is spring!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And I'm sick. It's been 5 days now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It's the wrong time to fall sick especially when I have a whole lot of chocolates lying around. They look extremely yummylicious when I can't eat them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've got a casual job and I'm still waiting to hear from this company who owns one of the largest supermarkets chain. There's a high chance that I won't get the job because I reckon I did so badly during the second interview but I'm not too worry about it because even if I do get the job, I've no idea how am I going to get myself into fashion retail. It's like a dead end. Okay, I'm being picky but let's just see how things go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So when I'm sick, and can't really do anything about it, the best cure is of course, retail therapy! I've not been shopping for a month now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;One month&lt;/i&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Can anyone believe THAT? I can't believe that either!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; Anyway, I only had an hour to shop by the time I get there and Pa said I can get whatever I want for my birthday as long as it's reasonable. And snap. I bought a sunglasses in 10 minutes. My fourth one in 3 years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I absolutely adore the new collection of Ferragamo's &lt;i&gt;Audrey&lt;/i&gt; ballerina-like flats. Yes, it's named after &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Audrey Hepburn&lt;/span&gt;. Just so because &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Salvatore Ferragamo&lt;/span&gt; designed the shoes for her. The shape of the shoe remained unchanged in the past 50 years (It's one of their best selling designs). The last &lt;i&gt;Audrey&lt;/i&gt; collection was in suede. I didn't like both the material and the colours they have in store. But this time around, they've got&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;pink&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;colour! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So should I splurge $625 on it or do I wait till sale when it will drop to $380?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112591642077768116?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112591642077768116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112591642077768116&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112591642077768116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112591642077768116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/09/tis-season-to-sparkle.html' title='tis the season to sparkle'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112473664270344572</id><published>2005-08-23T02:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-23T02:54:07.893+08:00</updated><title type='text'>crossroads</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);font-family:arial;" &gt;Conversation 1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;B: So when W is here for a visit, S will be going away for a little 'holiday'?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: *sigh*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Conversation 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: Yay!! My birthday is coming up. And the European guy's birthday is just a few days before mine so we're gonna have a big party!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: I don't think I can come then&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: Why not, sweetie? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: You know, &lt;b&gt;he&lt;/b&gt; will be here. But anyway, **&lt;b&gt;the decision&lt;/b&gt; is yours.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Me: *sigh*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;**&lt;i&gt;The decision&lt;/i&gt; here denotes who do I choose to be with. Time is running out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112473664270344572?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112473664270344572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112473664270344572&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112473664270344572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112473664270344572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/08/crossroads.html' title='crossroads'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112446660188591328</id><published>2005-08-20T00:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-20T00:03:31.513+08:00</updated><title type='text'>a letter to papa</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Dearest Papa,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;All these years that I've been away from home, away from you, makes me realized that I do indeed miss you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Since I was a baby girl, you taught me to be strong and wise, never be afraid to admit my own mistakes and more importantly, never give up easily no matter how many times I fall.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;After finding out that you had someone else in your life, I was broken and disappointed. Don't me and sisters meant anything to you at all? What about Ma? I was upset at the fact that you cheated on us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Nevertheless, the time I spent away from home makes me acknowledged that no matter how much I disliked you from then on, no matter how upset or angry I was at you, deep down within my heart, I've always loved you...I still do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;You have loved me unconditionally, you've been supporting me all these while. You let me make my own decisions on my future. You never yell at me when I over-swiped the card. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Maybe I can never comprehend what you've done but I think I'll regret if I do not learn to forgive and let go of this bitterness in me as I only have one dad. The love and care that you shower us with, they are real aren't they?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Papa, if only I have the courage to tell you these 3 little words before it's too late. I just want you to know that &lt;b&gt;I love you....&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112446660188591328?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112446660188591328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112446660188591328&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112446660188591328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112446660188591328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/08/letter-to-papa.html' title='a letter to papa'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112443893639644519</id><published>2005-08-19T16:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-08T21:40:17.280+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i'm a housewife - part three</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So I've cooked and cleaned.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Now I'm doing grocery shopping for S as well. Don't get me wrong, I do actually enjoy it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; It is a headache because he eats relatively healthy stuff like salad, fruits, yoghurt and what not. The only salad I take is the one I make my own. I &lt;i&gt;hate&lt;/i&gt; vegetables with passion apart from broccoli, cabbage, carrot and cauliflower. The only yoghurt I take is the new watermelon flavoured ones. And those chocolate flavoured ones as well. Wait. Those aren't exactly yoghurt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He reckons I don't eat proper meals. This is coming from someone who smokes twice the amount of cigarettes than I do and drinks every weekend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So everytime I do grocery shopping for him, I have to buy something that contains chocolate in it. I know it wasn't for me but my mind keeps on nudging me with the fact that a little bit of chocolates is healthy for him. A lot of people say chocolates make people gain weight although me personally think otherwise. I eat chocolate almost everyday and my body is still the same way it was 7 years ago. But if what they said is true, then &lt;i&gt;bingo!&lt;/i&gt; S is too skinny anyway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Nevertheless, at the end of the day, he still gets his favourite juice, cereals, snacks and fruits. Isn't he a lucky guy?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112443893639644519?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112443893639644519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112443893639644519&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112443893639644519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112443893639644519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/08/today-im-housewife-part-three.html' title='today i&apos;m a housewife - part three'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112429868139746186</id><published>2005-08-18T01:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-18T01:17:07.803+08:00</updated><title type='text'>he ain't kidding</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;S came over to see me earlier. As he walked into the house, I kissed him and asked cheerily...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: Do you want some rollies? It belongs to the European guy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: It's alright, I've got my own cigarettes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: What about some weed? &lt;/span&gt;(Of course I jokingly asked him that. Those weed doesn't even belong to me in the first place.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: What did you say? Did I hear correctly? Weed?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: *pointing at the pack of weed on the table* Yep, it belongs to the European guy as well&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: What's the druggie doing, living with you under the same roof?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: I don't take weed, sweetie. Don't call him a druggie just so because he smokes them!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: Good girl, I've tried that a couple of times but that was long time ago and it's not good for you so don't even think about it &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: Well, my closest friends smoke weed occassionally. T does. M as well. As for myself, I'm just never interested in it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: *glaring at innocent chica* Are you thinking of trying it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: Nope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: Good, keep it that way. Remember, don't get near that stuff&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Whether S was being over-protective or caring I really don't know. All I know is I've never seen the other side of him before. That, makes me feel loved.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;But then again, he doesn't call me pumpkin, baby, honey or any other pet names couples call each other. This, makes me feel unloved. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112429868139746186?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112429868139746186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112429868139746186&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112429868139746186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112429868139746186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/08/he-aint-kidding.html' title='he ain&apos;t kidding'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112426258270081360</id><published>2005-08-17T15:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-17T15:14:51.106+08:00</updated><title type='text'>new place new beginning</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've finally moved in to my new pad. Whee!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;However, there are just so many things to unpack, my current bedroom is much smaller and I have problems deciding what to put in my room as I can't possibly fit all my stuff in like previously. It is a hassle to move house. It's a bigger hassle to pack and then unpack again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My girlfriend, Y and his boyfriend, B dislike the 21 year-old dude. Let's name him 21. Y &amp;amp; B reckon 21 has not been washing his clothes for the past 4 weeks and probably showers once every 3 days. B also can't stand the fact that 21 brags about his work and studies which all of them suspect, are non-existance. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Me and the European guy on the other hand were not really bothered by 21. Whenever he talks, we just listen without agreeing or disagreeing. It doesn't bother me all that much because unlike the &lt;a href="http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/08/unhappy-i-am.html"&gt;idiotic ex-housemate&lt;/a&gt; of mine, he is not rude and he doesn't make crude remarks about people. He is definitely not arrogant for sure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The European guy will be cooking dinner for us this weekend. He made yummylicious Goulash the other day and I finished everything off. I can't wait to see (and taste) what's he gonna cook next. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112426258270081360?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112426258270081360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112426258270081360&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112426258270081360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112426258270081360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/08/new-place-new-beginning.html' title='new place new beginning'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112395170815149845</id><published>2005-08-14T00:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-14T00:59:15.363+08:00</updated><title type='text'>was it something he didn't say</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Is it really hard for him to say these 3 words...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112395170815149845?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112395170815149845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112395170815149845&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112395170815149845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112395170815149845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/08/was-it-something-he-didnt-say.html' title='was it something he didn&apos;t say'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112387257444451810</id><published>2005-08-13T02:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-13T22:28:33.936+08:00</updated><title type='text'>absolut disappointment</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: Gee... Finally I'm getting my boots back. I don't think I'll wear it anymore though&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: Why not? Why bother getting it fixed when you're not gonna wear it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: Excuse moi? You offered to get it fixed for me. That was about five weeks ago. Spring will be here in two weeks. So my boots has been sitting in your room for the past four weeks and six days doing nothing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: I just forgot about it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: Whatever&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I really don't understand him sometimes. I've told him a lot of time that it's perfectly alright for me to do it myself since he's busy with studies and work but he insisted that he'd do it for me. He just &lt;i&gt;forgets&lt;/i&gt; about it until I 'threatened' him by saying &lt;i&gt;"If I can't get my boots back by Friday, just forget about it. I don't want it anymore. You do whatever you want with it. I give up."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He slipped down and pulled his leg's muscle when he was out with his mates earlier. It hurts him when he moves around too much. He was even having difficulty sitting down. Of course my heart aches when I see him in that condition.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: Well, you should consult your sis, she is a physiotherapist isn't she?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;S: She asked me to go to the doctor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: Go see doctor tomorrow then, sweetie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;S: What a doctor can do? He would just ask me to go for an X-ray and I don't have time for that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: But if it hurts, there is obviously something wrong with it. I don't think you can help me to move my stuff tomorrow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;S: Yeah, I don't think I'd be able to help you move&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: It's okay, I'll figure out. I'll get someone else to help me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;S: I hate to say no after I've promised you but obviously I can't since I am injured. Also, you told me that you do not need my help earlier and I've made other plans&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: I understand, look at you...You can't even walk properly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I was a bit confused with the &lt;i&gt;other plans&lt;/i&gt; part. I hope he didn't mean what I think it is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: So, what are your plans for tomorrow? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I was hoping that he will say something like, &lt;i&gt;"I'm gonna see doctor and take a rest"&lt;/i&gt; but instead...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;S: Since tomorrow is my only day off, I'm gonna get a hair-cut...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I was baffled. Shouldn't he be resting at home? Never mind, give him the benefit of doubt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;S: I'm going over to my parents' in the morning...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;What? You can still drive in that condition?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;S: It is A's birthday tomorrow so I'm gonna go over to his place in the arvo, we're gonna drink and play cards&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: Oh... Have fun then&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I turned away from him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;S: Are you going to sleep now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: Yes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He kissed me on my lips and I refused to react. I just stared at him. He planted a kiss on my forehead before leaving.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm absolutely disappointed with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm extremely upset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the pain is really that bad, shouldn't he be resting at home instead? I could almost imagine how he had all this &lt;i&gt;planned&lt;/i&gt; out in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silly me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Maybe I should give up on him too...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112387257444451810?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112387257444451810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112387257444451810&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112387257444451810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112387257444451810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/08/absolut-disappointment.html' title='absolut disappointment'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112377861955100544</id><published>2005-08-12T00:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-13T03:05:07.576+08:00</updated><title type='text'>achtung...beware</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Judging from the amount of the word &lt;i&gt;fucking&lt;/i&gt; that surfaced on my earlier post, I sure was pissed off. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've been avoiding that fuc...Never mind. It's not worth it to get upset over such people. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Patience pays off. Patience, my dear... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Two more days and I'm out of this place. I know I'm going to miss my brother and the rest of my housemates but I really can't wait to get away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Thanks to everyone for your comforting words. That, really meant a lot to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112377861955100544?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112377861955100544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112377861955100544&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112377861955100544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112377861955100544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/08/achtungbeware.html' title='achtung...beware'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112369875393951345</id><published>2005-08-11T02:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-11T11:26:51.246+08:00</updated><title type='text'>unhappy i am</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I was going to write something about my &lt;i&gt;housewife&lt;/i&gt; 'adventure' until the fucking moronic housemate of mine came out from his room and made some stupid remarks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I started having problems with him (and his ever so &lt;i&gt;God-ly&lt;/i&gt; opinions on life, people and cultures in general) after I moved in for a month or so.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I really don't know what the idiot's problem is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He thinks that he's good looking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He is not even close to being average.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He thinks that he is smart just so because he is studying Engineering. He reckons not just anyone can study Engineering, whereas everyone can do a business degree.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He flunked his paper and I am secretly rejoicing. Not so smart after all eh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He thinks he has elegant taste in fashion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Yes, the $150 Armani Exchange snake skin print shirt will go out of fashion in no time. &lt;b&gt;That&lt;/b&gt;, is far from elegant. And no, French Connection does not specialized in designing elegant wear. You're shopping at the wrong place all together. More importantly, elegance is how you portray yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He thinks I shouldn't wear make-up because I looked 'over-dressed'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;When everyone else commended I look good and you're the only one saying I've over-done it, I suggest you get your eyes check. And who are you to judge me in the first place? You are &lt;b&gt;NOT&lt;/b&gt; my friend to begin with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He made a comment that I should do some exercise. His exact words were, "If me, I wouldn't hire (in reference to my job hunting) a girl that is not fit. Look at you..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Excuse me, I love the way I am. I really pity the girl who would someday become your girlfriend. Once again, you have &lt;b&gt;NO&lt;/b&gt; right to judge me. Yes, you fucking retard! Maybe that's why you do not have a girlfriend at all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm too tired to even start writing about his disgrunted opinions on people from other cultures.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;To sum it up, my main reason of moving out is because he tried to grab and kiss me once. Of course, I managed to free myself from him. Although he apologized and promised that he would never do it again, &lt;i&gt;I don't trust him.&lt;/i&gt; I never trusted him in the first place. Fucking pervert!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112369875393951345?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112369875393951345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112369875393951345&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112369875393951345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112369875393951345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/08/unhappy-i-am.html' title='unhappy i am'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112366175345883137</id><published>2005-08-10T16:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-10T19:21:34.536+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i'm a housewife - part two</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Cooking has never been my passion. I kid you not, I would rather pay to get my food and good service than slaving my ass in the kitchen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Okay, let me re-iterate. Cooking isn't so bad. The cleaning part is!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;For the past few days, I've been in the kitchen, be it cooking some stuff, baking cakes or making sushi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;W comes from a very traditional Chinese family. His mum reckons that all girls should know how to cook and clean. That's her interpretation of a &lt;i&gt;good wife&lt;/i&gt;. To me, great sex, lots of compromise and respect is what a good wife makes. When I first came to Aus, I lived with them for a period of time. There was once she showed me how to clean a whole chicken and I went...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: *pointing at the chicken* Eww... This is horrendous&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Not-my-mum: Yeah, you would have to learn how to do this. Otherwise, how can you cook?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: Huh? I'd just get myself a husband who knows how to cook. And clean of course!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Not-my-mum: WHAT? Please, no guys will actually do this kind of work. They never go into the kitchen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I was thinking to myself, let's not compare us to people from different culture but where I came from, there are guys in my family that cooks. My late Uncle L is an excellent cook. So does a few others. Of course I didn't tell W mummy dearest that. &lt;i&gt;We really just don't get along.&lt;/i&gt; I mean, excuse me? My mum doesn't even do this to me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Okay, I better get back to my cooking. Am slicing the chicken breast half-way. Why would people make their life difficult just so because it's cheaper to buy a whole chicken?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112366175345883137?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112366175345883137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112366175345883137&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112366175345883137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112366175345883137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/08/today-im-housewife-part-two.html' title='today i&apos;m a housewife - part two'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112349776368109230</id><published>2005-08-08T18:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-13T22:26:50.553+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today i'm a housewife</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Last night S came over to bring me out for dinner. He was staring at the dining and kitchen area before continuing...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: I think you need to give your floor a clean&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: *rolls eyes* I don't have to do this kind of things back home. I guess I would have to now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;I looked up at S mischeviously and flashed him the most innocent face of mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: So sweetie, will you help me clean the floor tomorrow? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: Well...I would if I'm here when you're cleaning it but I won't be here tomorrow so I can't&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So my innocent face didn't work on him. He can be really smart in getting away from stuff he doesn't want to do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I did clean the floor this arvo. All by myself. And I'm extremely proud of it. I text S saying, &lt;i&gt;"Damn, I feel so housewife now!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112349776368109230?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112349776368109230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112349776368109230&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112349776368109230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112349776368109230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/08/today-im-housewife.html' title='today i&apos;m a housewife'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112335343815144340</id><published>2005-08-07T02:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-07T02:44:52.100+08:00</updated><title type='text'>what she says...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;M: I would rather you're together with Ell actually&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me: Hmm?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;M: And I would rather to have you be with W than S, I think&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Wouldn't it be nice to have all three of them? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;*sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112335343815144340?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112335343815144340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112335343815144340&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112335343815144340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112335343815144340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/08/what-she-says.html' title='what she says...'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112305694542320497</id><published>2005-08-03T16:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-03T17:03:24.106+08:00</updated><title type='text'>three guys and a girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I was on the phone with a girlfriend of mine the other day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: So have you rented out the rooms in your place yet?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Girlfriend: Yep to two guys. It is just amazing how fast you can get people through advertising.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Her family has got a new place so they're renting out the old one as her boyfriend, B is the only one staying there right now.&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: So at least there are people in the house to keep B company. *evil laughter* And who are these dudes? Are they cute?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Girlfriend: Oh, the European guy is &lt;i&gt;but&lt;/i&gt; he has a girlfriend. The other dude is too young for you sweetie. He is 21. He's a little immature. You know, guys that age...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I instantly lit up.&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I think I'll drop B a visit soon. You know to catch up and stuff&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girlfriend knowing what my real intention was, broke down laughing.&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Like really, he's just got a girlfriend, not like he's married. As for the other dude, who says a 21-year-old guy is too young for me? I'm still young. Young at heart &lt;/span&gt;(Okay, so I lied. I feel &lt;i&gt;really&lt;/i&gt; old sometimes)&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girlfriend: Yeah, whatever you say. HAHAHA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Fast forward one month later and here I am, moving in with them. It was also due to the never-ending problems I have with my current place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I can have a real good &lt;i&gt;perve&lt;/i&gt; (quoting &lt;a href="http://www.chickybaberules.blogspot.com/"&gt;ChickyBabe&lt;/a&gt; ) now. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Of course I don't plan to snatch anyone boyfriend or dating a guy that young but it's a really good change of environment. Who wouldn't wanna live with three hot looking guys?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I can't bear the thought of packing and unpacking my junks again but I'll worry about that later. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112305694542320497?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112305694542320497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112305694542320497&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112305694542320497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112305694542320497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/08/three-guys-and-girl.html' title='three guys and a girl'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112280171836449007</id><published>2005-07-31T17:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-31T17:56:23.636+08:00</updated><title type='text'>sinfully tempting</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;For some reason, probably because of boredom and stress from job hunting, I've been renting movies from the local video store almost everyday. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It's unproductive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It's a waste of money.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I don't know what's with the sudden fascination on movies lately. It must be S. I've not been seeing him lately and I substituted him with watching movies. His favourite past-time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Now I wonder whether he has picked up retail therapy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I don't know what's wrong with me, I just can't seem to keep him off my mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Oh, and I love &lt;a href="http://movies.yahoo.com/shop?d=hv&amp;cf=info&amp;amp;id=1808560210"&gt;Sin City&lt;/a&gt;. It is devilish. In a good way. Like a piece of &lt;a href="http://www.godiva.com/"&gt;Godiva&lt;/a&gt; dark chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A side note to the person I've been faithfully stealing internet connection from, welcome back. I've missed you so much. *mwah* *mwah* *mwah*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112280171836449007?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112280171836449007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112280171836449007&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112280171836449007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112280171836449007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/07/sinfully-tempting.html' title='sinfully tempting'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112245397720597236</id><published>2005-07-27T16:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-27T16:51:22.716+08:00</updated><title type='text'>in vogue with joblessness</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So here I am again, worrying about the same thing. Same old thing. I'm jobless and I so desperately needed one right now.&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay I admit I've been cruising by the first few months doing nothing but shopping and spending money, without actually really looking for a job. Then I realized it wasn't as easy as I thought, when I did actually started to look for one. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I just don't understand this whole thing revolving around experience and connections. I do not have any retail experience but don't we all need to start somewhere? And connections, I don't even want to start. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I really don't want to go back home just yet. I'm not ready to give up the very thing I held strongly to when I first left home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The taste of freedom...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112245397720597236?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112245397720597236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112245397720597236&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112245397720597236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112245397720597236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/07/in-vogue-with-joblessness.html' title='in vogue with joblessness'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112213185680121370</id><published>2005-07-23T23:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-23T23:20:29.876+08:00</updated><title type='text'>of albus dumbledore and sickness</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've been confined to the bed for the past one week. I caught my bro's cough virus and somehow I managed to develop fever, cold and flu in the process. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;As though that wasn't bad enough, I've now lost my appetite and I feel like vomiting everytime I start coughing. Damn it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've only had &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince&lt;/span&gt; on pdf file to accompany me. No, I didn't like it. I think it was the crappiest Harry Potter book J.K. Rowling ever written. The story-line stopped rather abruptly I reckon. That's what happened when a series becomes too commercialized. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I think I need to get back to bed. The migraine is hitting again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112213185680121370?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112213185680121370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112213185680121370&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112213185680121370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112213185680121370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/07/of-albus-dumbledore-and-sickness.html' title='of albus dumbledore and sickness'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112098624078168839</id><published>2005-07-10T17:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-10T18:08:27.510+08:00</updated><title type='text'>dear ell</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hi chica! Nice to hear from ya! Well, thankfully none of my family were hurt in those bombs. Thank you for thinking about me &amp; my family during this time. You're a very thoughtful &amp;amp; caring person, chica. I really appreciate it :-).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hope life is good for you at the moment...Are you up to much? Well drop me a line to let me know how you are. I often wonder what you're up to &amp; how you're getting on with stuff. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;C ya. luv, ell&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;All those months I've been waiting for your reply, you didn't bother to write back. I'm glad that you are alright. I do admit that I still care for you but that's that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Stop pretending that everything is alright between us after you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;disappear&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ed&lt;/span&gt; from my life just like that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Stop patronizing me this way. It is unfair for me.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You made it seems harder for me to believe that you have actually once loved me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You have hurt me once, I will not allow you to do it again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112098624078168839?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112098624078168839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112098624078168839&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112098624078168839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112098624078168839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/07/dear-ell.html' title='dear ell'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112075184823295507</id><published>2005-07-07T23:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-08T00:55:09.666+08:00</updated><title type='text'>say a little prayer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;A few hours ago, I was glued to the TV watching the heart-breaking news of the London attack. The first thing that hit my mind was...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Ell.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Whilst I've never believe in God, I prayed silently to the heaven above that he is safe. I was disturbed. I was scared and I wish I could be there. The fact that he has walked out of my life did not hindered me from worrying about his safety. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I'm just loss for words right now. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I can only hope...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112075184823295507?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112075184823295507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112075184823295507&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112075184823295507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112075184823295507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/07/say-little-prayer.html' title='say a little prayer'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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-9922094.post-112037243205926195</id><published>2005-07-03T14:33:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-03T16:10:09.666+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the one with the silent treatment</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: Now would you please tell me what is wrong?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: *stares blankly passed him and shakes my head*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: Nothing's wrong?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: *shakes head* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S: Then why you went quiet out of a sudden? I'm not blind, I'm not stupid. Something is wrong. And if you don't tell me, what else can I do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: Don't do anything then&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;*stomped off*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I refused to reply his text messages the next day. I think he sent more text to me on that day itself than any other week put together. Honestly speaking, it felt good. It's a payback for &lt;a href="http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/05/war-of-my-own_111890453046945871.html"&gt;what he did&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I was surprised to see him being so frustrated over my silent treatment. Or maybe he was just trying to make me feel guilty but either way, I started talking to him again. I'm not that unreasonable as a person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I have to admit I am absolutely pleased to see him getting frustrated. He suspected that as well but of course I denied it, as always.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112037243205926195?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112037243205926195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112037243205926195&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112037243205926195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112037243205926195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/07/one-with-silent-treatment.html' title='the one with the silent treatment'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-112020634991032423</id><published>2005-07-01T16:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-02T19:20:35.376+08:00</updated><title type='text'>short break</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;Don't ask me about the new layout. This is the best I could find after surfing through &lt;a href="http://www.blogskins.com/"&gt;blogskins&lt;/a&gt; for God knows how long. Hopefully, I'd be able to get the old one running as soon as possible.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;I'm gonna be putting a night-cap over at S' place tonight. Yeah, we made up and revenge is sweet, I can almost taste it on my lips. Will update soon and have a great weekend, peeps!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112020634991032423?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112020634991032423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112020634991032423&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112020634991032423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112020634991032423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/07/short-break.html' title='short break'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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-9922094.post-112002676680740954</id><published>2005-06-29T14:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-29T15:06:03.583+08:00</updated><title type='text'>this holiday season - part two</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I can't believe it. Everyone is gone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Sydney, Melbourne, Kuala Lumpur, Singapore, Tokyo, Hong Kong, Los Angeles.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Last night, bro rang me from the airport, which sort of saved my night just so because I was giving S silent treatment, the cold war I've declared upon him which he wasn't aware of.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bro: Where are you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: On my way back home from S' place&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bro: Ah... I need your help. Can you check whether my room's door is locked from the toilet?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: Huh? What do you need now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bro: Oh, I left my small bolster and I want you to pass it to T so that she can bring over to Sydney for me. Hehehe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: WHAT? BOLSTER? You're such a baby! God, okay. I'll try to look for it.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I swear his room looked like a big trash. Piles of clothes lying everywhere on the floor, on the bed, on the cupboard, on the chair, on the computer desk. This comes from someone who has more clothes than I do so you can imagine. Papers, porn stash, dvds, rubbish, etc. I have headache just by looking at his room. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;T is leaving for Sydney this arvo, she'd be the last one among my friends to leave. So everyone is going away on a holiday of some sort and here I am, stuck in the town. T reckoned I can choose to go back home, which I won't coz I was back home last month. Or go to Munich to visit A, which I can't afford coz I have no money right now. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Now that I'm not talking to S for the moment, I have absolutely no one to hang out with. I just decided to get upset at him over some mundane stuff which I find ridiculous myself but hey, I'm a woman hence I'm allowed to do that. Okay, so it was my fault I admit. But I'm not going to give in that easily in front of him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Oh well, whatever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-112002676680740954?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/112002676680740954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=112002676680740954&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112002676680740954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/112002676680740954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/06/this-holiday-season-part-two.html' title='this holiday season - part two'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-111980538995991815</id><published>2005-06-27T01:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-27T01:05:07.910+08:00</updated><title type='text'>this holiday season</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My girls will be out of the country for at least 3 weeks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My bro will be away for 2 weeks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The usual people I hang out with will be out of town.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm glad at least S is around. He's planning to bring me for a short vacation somewhere. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;On an unrelated note, I really hope to land a job as soon as possible so I can have money to spend. The thought of living without retail therapy - it is torturing me deep inside.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-111980538995991815?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/111980538995991815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=111980538995991815&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111980538995991815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111980538995991815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/06/this-holiday-season.html' title='this holiday season'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-111916636379155647</id><published>2005-06-19T15:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-26T21:26:23.026+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the one with the movies</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"&gt;My all time favourite movies are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div  style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- Dead Poets Society (1989)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- Kill Bill 1 (2003) &amp; 2 (2004)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;- Lord of the Rings trilogy (2001, 2002, 2003)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;- Mystic River (2003)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;- The Silence of The Lamb (1991)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't mind:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- Black Hawk Down (2001)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- Good Will Hunting (1997)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- Finding Forrester (2000)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- Hide and Seek (2005)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- Hotel Rwanda (2004)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- Life is Beautiful / La Vita e Bella (1998)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- Man on Fire (2004)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- My Fair Lady (1964)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;- Pulp Fiction (1994)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;- Schindler's List (1993)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;- The Emperor's Club (2002)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;- The Godfather (1972)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;- The Last Samurai (2003)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;- The Pianist  (2002)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;- The Shawshank Redemption (1994)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;- The Village (2004)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;- Troy (2004)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not a big fan of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt, Russell Crowe&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nicole Kidman. &lt;/span&gt;In fact I think &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nicole Kidman &lt;/span&gt;can't act. She's more of a celebrity than an actress. The only movie of hers which I find passable is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Other (2001).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Denzel Washington &lt;/span&gt;should be the main star of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;War of the Worlds (2005) &lt;/span&gt;rather than &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tom Cruise. &lt;/span&gt;He and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dakota Fanning &lt;/span&gt;have such a brilliant partnership in &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Man on Fire (2004).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Natalie Portman.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Orlando Bloom&lt;/span&gt; is just a pretty face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Angelina Jolie&lt;/span&gt; is HOT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I reckon &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Adam Sandler &lt;/span&gt;is just trying too hard to be funny (same with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ashton Kutcher&lt;/span&gt;), unlike &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Vince Vaughn&lt;/span&gt; who in my opinion, is a natural joker (he has this mean-jerky look which I couldn't help laughing at the way he looks).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Anthony Hopkins, Audrey Hepburn, Denzel Washington, Sean Penn&lt;/span&gt; and&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Tim Robbins &lt;/span&gt; are remarkable actors. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Quentin Tarantino, Steven Spielberg &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;M. Night Shyamalan &lt;/span&gt;are my favourite directors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I adore &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dakota Fanning. &lt;/span&gt;She is a cutie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Seven (1995)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; but I find it disturbing. I reckon  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mona Lisa Smile (2003)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; is not even half as good as &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Emperor's Club (2002)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; let alone being compared to&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Dead Poets Society (1989).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The movie that everyone else is making a big fuss about which I've never gotten around watching is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Forrest Gump (1994).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Oh, and any episode of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Star Wars&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-111916636379155647?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/111916636379155647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=111916636379155647&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111916636379155647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111916636379155647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/06/one-with-movies_19.html' title='the one with the movies'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-111886871637447499</id><published>2005-06-16T04:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-26T21:27:33.533+08:00</updated><title type='text'>maybe it was just me...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;My current diet:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Cheese on toast.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;I've been having it for brekkie, lunch and dinner for the past 2 days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;I have a feeling I'm gonna ended up vomiting the next time I'm eating that again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Mercy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-111886871637447499?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/111886871637447499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=111886871637447499&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111886871637447499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111886871637447499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/06/maybe-it-was-just-me.html' title='maybe it was just me...'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-111856759776730195</id><published>2005-06-12T17:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-26T21:28:31.560+08:00</updated><title type='text'>involuntarily diet</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;From now onwards till I get a job, I'll be going on instant noodles diet. Honestly speaking, I'm not a big fan of instant noodles. I can practically count with my fingers the number of times I have instant noodles in a year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;That also means I won't be able to afford &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Baskin-Robbins&lt;/span&gt; for now. No retail therapy, daily dosage of skinny lattes or weekly movie outings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Such is life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;To the kind folks in retail industry: Please please please hire me, although I do not have any retail experience nor connections. I just need to be given an opportunity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-111856759776730195?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/111856759776730195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=111856759776730195&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111856759776730195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111856759776730195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/06/involuntarily-diet.html' title='involuntarily diet'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-111834065174605263</id><published>2005-06-11T02:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-26T21:31:11.600+08:00</updated><title type='text'>wishful thinking</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left; font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Last night, I was looking through my photo albums, flipping through and laughing away at some candid shots, photos taken during my graduation, birthday bashes, pubs crawl nites, dinners, etc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Then I saw it. I can't keep my gaze away and without me knowing, tears started to well up on my eyes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;It was a photo of both of us...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;He was hugging me and we were smiling happily posing for the camera. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Somehow my mind flashed back to the conversation I had with A a couple of nights ago. She is a close girlfriend of mine and a friend of his. And somewhat along our conversation when the topic of him came up, I just melted. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;It was probably easier for me to just say &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;let it go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt; and trying to convince myself that it is for the better. It's not that I do not want to let go but because I just could not. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;It's been almost a year. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;If time heals the pain then why does my heart still bleeds?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Then I thought of London. His home. And my thoughts get kind of scattered. I will get there someday but I don't think I will see him again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-111834065174605263?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/111834065174605263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=111834065174605263&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111834065174605263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111834065174605263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/06/wishful-thinking.html' title='wishful thinking'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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-9922094.post-111789361356717773</id><published>2005-06-04T21:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-26T21:32:12.860+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the one with the ice-cream</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;I don't know what's got into me but I've finished 4 tubs of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Baskin-Robbins &lt;/span&gt;in 5 days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;That, really freaks me out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;And amazingly I didn't put on weight at all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-111789361356717773?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/111789361356717773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=111789361356717773&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111789361356717773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111789361356717773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/06/one-with-ice-cream_04.html' title='the one with the ice-cream'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-111761162138534037</id><published>2005-06-01T15:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-26T21:37:58.083+08:00</updated><title type='text'>reminiscence</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;This sudden ice-cream obsession craving thingie, it's been going on for 4 days. And for the past 3 nites that S has failed to deliver a big tub of yummylicious &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);" href="http://www.baskinrobbins.com.au/"&gt;Baskin-Robbins&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt; to my door step, he owes me 3 barrels or $100 worth of ice-cream now, whichever he prefers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;I did not even hint him, I told him straight off that I want ice-cream and I want it &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt; Is it so hard for him to understand that cravings are meant to be attended to immediately? Like pronto! I don't care if people think I'm being unreasonable but cravings are cravings. I don't care if he's busy with his assignment, the ice-cream place is just 10 minutes drive away. I'm just gonna give up on him now. The fact is, he doesn't fucking care about me. Sigh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);font-family:arial;" &gt;Then I thought of W, how he was willing to drive all the way to Macca's whenever I have one of those weird cravings at 3am in the morning. He is the perfect ideal boyfriend who would do anything for me. And me, I'm the selfish good for nothing girlfriend. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;*deep breath*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;On an unrelated note, memories of Ell keeps on floating back to me for the past few nights. I just don't know why am I still thinking about him that much. But of course, they're all good thoughts. Then it hits me that it's been almost a year since I first met him. One year. 12 months. 52 weeks. 365 days. It just seem...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;like yesterday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Fast forward and here I am...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;...wondering... pondering...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;whether he still think of me occassionally. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;I think he does&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;But why?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Why things don't always work out the way we want them to? Maybe it's for the best that it remains this way. He will always be that special someone to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-111761162138534037?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/111761162138534037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=111761162138534037&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111761162138534037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111761162138534037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/06/reminiscence.html' title='reminiscence'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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-9922094.post-111709317121472853</id><published>2005-05-26T15:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-26T21:09:47.143+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the one with the controlling mother</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I had dinner over at the 'in-laws' last night. His sis and mum are back in town. To W's family, I'm still his girlfriend because they don't know what is going on between us. Needless to say, it's none of their business really.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So his mum and I were sitting down having a chat. She complained how W and his bro never call her since she came over. She lamented how W is being an ungrateful child wanting to move out from her house. Her exact words were, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;"Now that the dad is gone, he's trying to push all his responsibilities to his older bro and he doesn't want to take care of me. Fine if he wants to do that. He will not get a single cent out of my will".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; I was thinking what exactly are her problems? Knowing W being the person that he has always been, I don't think he fucking care about his parents money at all. At the tender age of 22, he was already half-way up the corporate ladder without his dad's connection or influence and that is something I really admire about him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Of course I can't tell that to the grieving widow. W did mention to me before that he wanted to move out so he can be independant despite the fact that his parents owned a huge mansion and there are only 3 of them living in the place now that the dad has passed away and his sis has moved to Perth for good. I guess it's a very different mentality all together.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I know the mum was hinting to me so that I would talk W to back out from the idea. She knew that W probably respects her but deep down inside, it hurts her to acknowledge the fact that his son loves me more than her because unlike his bro or sis, W has never actually open up entirely to his family. And he trusted me with all his heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Of course I didn't tell W what his mum said because it will only make him more determine to move out. And whoever said I was gonna talk him out of it? *innocent eyes*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-111709317121472853?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/111709317121472853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=111709317121472853&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111709317121472853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111709317121472853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/05/one-with-controlling-mother.html' title='the one with the controlling mother'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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-9922094.post-111704320696731445</id><published>2005-05-26T01:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-26T21:34:49.386+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the love that was never mine</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Late at night when all the world is sleeping, I stay up and think of you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;And I wish on a star, that somewhere you are thinking of me too...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I smile whenever I think of him. He is just...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;so far away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Perhaps someday, one day, my heart will find its own way of letting go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;   &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-111704320696731445?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/111704320696731445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=111704320696731445&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111704320696731445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111704320696731445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/05/love-that-was-never-mine.html' title='the love that was never mine'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-111694886472596415</id><published>2005-05-24T23:33:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-26T21:39:48.836+08:00</updated><title type='text'>it's just... josh</title><content type='html'>&lt;div  style="text-align: left;font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;As M and I were sitting down watching &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wicker Park&lt;/span&gt; last night,&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I couldn't help noticing how much Josh Hartnett looked like Ell from the side angle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My mind drifted away throughout the movie. I could still remember how we used to share a good laugher together, how well we clicked and how much he cared for me back then. What's left right now are just memories.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Once upon a time...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-111694886472596415?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/111694886472596415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=111694886472596415&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111694886472596415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111694886472596415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/05/its-just-josh.html' title='it&apos;s just... josh'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-111686805117304808</id><published>2005-05-23T01:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-26T21:41:37.496+08:00</updated><title type='text'>kill me please</title><content type='html'>&lt;div  style="text-align: left;font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I hate it when I can't control my emotions. Most of the time I'm overpowered by it and I ended up being frustrated.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So I did it again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I thought I was doing a good job in avoiding S but I gave in and replied to his text messages. I told him that I've missed him but as usual, he didn't seem to show that he feels the same way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Why exactly do I still need to convince myself that he does actually care?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And why does it hurts me so badly bearing the thought of not seeing him ever again?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-111686805117304808?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/111686805117304808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=111686805117304808&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111686805117304808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111686805117304808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/05/kill-me-please.html' title='kill me please'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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-9922094.post-111669443250414885</id><published>2005-05-22T00:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-26T21:42:14.053+08:00</updated><title type='text'>it's a damn conspiracy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Bro walked into my room.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Him: I'm leaving for Melbourne tonight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: Huh? &lt;/span&gt;(pretending I didn't hear the word &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Melbourne&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Him: I'm going to Melbourne to attend a meeting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: Oh...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Him: I'll be back on Sunday night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Then I realized that bro and S are going to be on the same flight back home. Thank God they don't know each other. Just when I thought I'm doing a good job in erasing S from my life, there is always something that reminded me of him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-111669443250414885?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/111669443250414885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=111669443250414885&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111669443250414885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111669443250414885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/05/its-damn-conspiracy.html' title='it&apos;s a damn conspiracy'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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-9922094.post-111652055051961601</id><published>2005-05-20T00:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-26T21:42:53.373+08:00</updated><title type='text'>i don't fucking care</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left; font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;S text me from Melbourne lamenting how he didn't have enough time to shop at Chapel St. I've actually deleted his phone number from my phone book but it looks like it's not working.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I need someone to be there for me, he wasn't there. I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;know&lt;/span&gt; he's enjoying Melbourne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't give a damn!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-111652055051961601?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/111652055051961601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=111652055051961601&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111652055051961601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111652055051961601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/05/i-dont-fucking-care.html' title='i don&apos;t fucking care'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9922094.post-111648088130027299</id><published>2005-05-19T13:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-26T21:44:24.463+08:00</updated><title type='text'>and so it seems</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: left; font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This is gonna be another depressing entry. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been bottling my feelings inside for the past 24 hours that is is about to kill me. Therefore, I'm gonna have to let it out somewhere and I do wanna spare my close friends from seeing the drama queen in me hence this blog is my only available channel. It's also due to the fact that no one who knows me in real life knew the existance of this blog.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Anyway, m&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;y&lt;/span&gt; victim of bitching here would be Y, my housemate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Y told me that he's gonna give me a lift to my part-time job a couple of days ago and I happily accepted that as it saves me the trouble to catch a bus. Then, he rang me 2 hours before I'm due to start my work that he can't make it coz he's sick. It's fine with me really despite the last hours notice coz he is sick. He didn't choose to fall sick so it's not his fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rushed back to take a quick shower and I bumped into him at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Y: Oh you don't have to rush, I think I'll be able to fetch you to work now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: No, you're sick. Stay at home and have a good rest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Y: I'm not exactly sick. It's the sickness called lazy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: So does that means you can send me to work? &lt;/span&gt;(thinking: at least I don't have to rush now. Phew...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Y: Yep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me: Are you really sure?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Y: Erm... I think it's better if you go by yourself actually&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was about to jump on him and punch him on the face but I've got only my towel on. I just felt I've been the victim of an April's Fool joke.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;To cut the long story short, I missed the bus and I was an hour late for work due to the thunderstorm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; Like really, it's not funny.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you so much for making my life extra miserable dear housemate. Why would you even bother to offer a helping hand when you can't even fulfill it and then giving me a glimmer of hope before crushing it down again? Fick dich!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9922094-111648088130027299?l=moiamore.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/feeds/111648088130027299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9922094&amp;postID=111648088130027299&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111648088130027299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9922094/posts/default/111648088130027299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://moiamore.blogspot.com/2005/05/and-so-it-seems.html' title='and so it seems'/><author><name>chica bonita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03902729703800126164</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>
