<?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-4140420326670209976</id><updated>2011-04-21T20:47:15.995-07:00</updated><category term='work'/><title type='text'>The world I love</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>20</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4140420326670209976.post-5589141929767390263</id><published>2007-12-09T23:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T02:00:57.186-08:00</updated><title type='text'>going down. downtown.</title><content type='html'>i wanna breakdown like you know pull someone's hair and hang them on the tree. i wanna steal all the small kids allowance. yeah whatever i just wanna punch someone so badly. so many work. so little time. annoying bigblob and squintyeyes. i wanna make his eyes bigger with my toothpick. not that i use any but yeah whatever. im going to continue my mindless rambling until i feel significantly better. i have media submission to rush, a campaign to roll out and idiots to deal with. omg.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4140420326670209976-5589141929767390263?l=mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/5589141929767390263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4140420326670209976&amp;postID=5589141929767390263' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/5589141929767390263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/5589141929767390263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/2007/12/going-down-downtown.html' title='going down. downtown.'/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4140420326670209976.post-4630198053550142407</id><published>2007-12-02T09:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-02T09:39:40.336-08:00</updated><title type='text'>a year passed by me again.</title><content type='html'>I havent been updating my blog for sometime now. busy busy busy. even if I do have the time, I really rather just roll on my bed. I cant believe another year is passing by and so much.. so much has changed. Not that I'm complaining, Im actually really enjoying life now. Like what? hmmm such as:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-wine. I've been enjoying it so much i'm trying to enjoy it whenever I can&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-bubbly wash. I loveeee Moet et Chandon. Maybe someone will be kind enough to treat me Dom Perignon?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Occasional rave. Honestly I know I can only do rave maybe once a month but of course there ISNT any! sigh i miss the dirty filthy dance music that makes me wanna dance. and of yeah the last Global Gathering i went to, I had like skin infection on my feet for a few weeks because of the mud.. but would i do it again? yeah def!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway Wendy tagged me on what I want for my Christmas list and here goes (take note if you're gonna buy anything for me.. hoho and please tell Santa I've been fairly good lately!):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-good health. for my family and loved ones. nothing is more important than tht.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-handbags.. I can never get enough of them. eventho I have so many.. but what is many anyway? lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-digi camera. i want a slim pink one!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-ipod. I want the new ipod touch to kickstart my yearr!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-vacation. Taiwan!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what.. as much as I always complain I dont have enough, i think im pretty content. Lifes treating me pretty well actually. I wanna be able to give more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And since im on my Christmas list, might as well move on to my New Years resolution too ey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 2008 I wanna be..:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- financially independant.&lt;br /&gt;- able to work up a promotion by end of next year&lt;br /&gt;- work harder, faster and better work quality&lt;br /&gt;- my own car&lt;br /&gt;- a pay raise&lt;br /&gt;- love my friends more&lt;br /&gt;- make time for God (actually I'll do this when I sleep later)&lt;br /&gt;- lose more weight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that pretty much wrap up my 2007 because I would be too busy to blog. Just incase I missed out on the greetings shoutout, here you go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;MERRY &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;CHRISTMAS&lt;/span&gt; &amp;amp; HAPPY &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;NEW YEAR!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&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/4140420326670209976-4630198053550142407?l=mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/4630198053550142407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4140420326670209976&amp;postID=4630198053550142407' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/4630198053550142407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/4630198053550142407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/2007/12/year-passed-by-me-again.html' title='a year passed by me again.'/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4140420326670209976.post-8134445694180874227</id><published>2007-09-29T21:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-29T21:37:36.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'>two wrongs don't mean a right</title><content type='html'>This weekend started off decently, but much to my dismay I didnt drink enough! We were at the apartment on Friday and food and everything else was pretty good. We started off with cheese platter which was awesome cause i love bleu cheese (oh well not everyone's favourite). There was four different type of cheese served with crackers and frozen grapes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Rv8nUxt_sdI/AAAAAAAAAC8/HDAlKN-SIRE/s1600-h/diane1a.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Rv8nUxt_sdI/AAAAAAAAAC8/HDAlKN-SIRE/s320/diane1a.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115850939613295058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Rv8nVht_shI/AAAAAAAAADc/QNzDgToQhJc/s1600-h/DSC00471.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Rv8nVht_shI/AAAAAAAAADc/QNzDgToQhJc/s320/DSC00471.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115850952498197010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I had yogurt lamb curry with bread. Obviously it couldnt be more obvious that there was only like a drip of yogurt on it (and no it doesnt look like yogurt that taste like curry). It was pretty damn awesome! It wasnt spicy enough, which was fine;i can do without but the curry taste is just AWESOMEEEEEEE. Then I had cupcakes which I pretended was fat free since I only had one. ahhh denial. haha. but the cupcake was pretty damn good. The chocolate pudding that Kumar ordered is a must try. Its totally sinfulicious!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Rv8nUxt_seI/AAAAAAAAADE/R_-NneldWIA/s1600-h/diane2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Rv8nUxt_seI/AAAAAAAAADE/R_-NneldWIA/s320/diane2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115850939613295074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were dining downstairs but we went upstairs for chill out. Much better cause it was more chilling and thank god for the bed. Then Jason ordered something which I had no chance whatsoever to even see what he actually ordered because he was eating them so fast I could only see his mouth moving. hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Rv8nVBt_sgI/AAAAAAAAADU/lXdUoL7MDRg/s1600-h/diane6.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Rv8nVBt_sgI/AAAAAAAAADU/lXdUoL7MDRg/s320/diane6.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115850943908262402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was damn fun and Diane got what she wanted. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PLASTERED!! &lt;/span&gt;and did I mention I love the cupcakes? tee-hee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4140420326670209976-8134445694180874227?l=mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/8134445694180874227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4140420326670209976&amp;postID=8134445694180874227' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/8134445694180874227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/8134445694180874227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/2007/09/two-wrongs-dont-mean-right.html' title='two wrongs don&apos;t mean a right'/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Rv8nUxt_sdI/AAAAAAAAAC8/HDAlKN-SIRE/s72-c/diane1a.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4140420326670209976.post-7407282980631700620</id><published>2007-09-20T19:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T19:31:41.490-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;i wear a mask to hide,&lt;br /&gt;the feelings i have inside&lt;br /&gt;often do i remind myself,&lt;br /&gt;how fleeting moments can be.&lt;br /&gt;happy ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i learned enough to know,&lt;br /&gt;the feelings are not to show&lt;br /&gt;to save the heart from losing its soul.&lt;br /&gt;yet again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;wouldnt&lt;/span&gt; the world be a different place,&lt;br /&gt;without the love in the world today.&lt;br /&gt;bible said love is kind&lt;br /&gt;i think they left out blind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so unveil me,&lt;br /&gt;make me see&lt;br /&gt;better yet, love me for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4140420326670209976-7407282980631700620?l=mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/7407282980631700620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4140420326670209976&amp;postID=7407282980631700620' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/7407282980631700620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/7407282980631700620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-wear-mask-to-hide-feelings-i-have.html' title=''/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4140420326670209976.post-5532186333326828032</id><published>2007-09-17T06:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T06:31:57.214-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;i broke the rules. i cared. which is bad enough because i normally don't. i'll pull out before im in too deep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4140420326670209976-5532186333326828032?l=mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/5532186333326828032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4140420326670209976&amp;postID=5532186333326828032' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/5532186333326828032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/5532186333326828032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-broke-rules.html' title=''/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4140420326670209976.post-6457300709703972516</id><published>2007-09-16T02:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-16T03:30:33.082-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i pick a fight just to get a reaction</title><content type='html'>I was so well asleep on Saturday that I didnt know it was little Javen's birthday. We had typical red tent over and by 7pm, my house was flooded with unknown strangers and cibai aunties. My mom was asking me to bring drinks for them then I told her, I also havent drink yet. wtf those whore. haha. Anyway I ate like a fat fuck. I think Im getting sick of eating eggs, you know the red ones they give away during festival time? I woke up in the afternoon feeling rather famished so I crawled out of my bed to find food. And there it was, a basket full of red eggs. So I kindly took one.. and one.. and one.. and one.. and one..and fuck now I hate hardboiled eggs. Plus the night before I had scrambled eggs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Calvin said that I should give him a ride on the bicycle around our place so being the nice person I am (I was in a good mood), I cycled him around and fuck he was heavy. I think he got our family qenes for sure (if we were to lose contact for years I swear I can tell he's one of us fuckers).  So I introduce you my little Calvin (he used to be so cute when he was small.. but shit happens), the family of whores.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ru0D9uqiWfI/AAAAAAAAACc/Eh4ErrNcInE/s1600-h/satay.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ru0D9uqiWfI/AAAAAAAAACc/Eh4ErrNcInE/s320/satay.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110745511168727538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;im obviously hungry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ru0D9uqiWgI/AAAAAAAAACk/AYEwOX2iHjc/s1600-h/satay2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ru0D9uqiWgI/AAAAAAAAACk/AYEwOX2iHjc/s320/satay2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110745511168727554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;i told the uncle, "dont worry about me, continue what you're doing. im just posing". lol!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ru0D9-qiWhI/AAAAAAAAACs/BOucS4U6c-s/s1600-h/DSC00321.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ru0D9-qiWhI/AAAAAAAAACs/BOucS4U6c-s/s320/DSC00321.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110745515463694866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;i love this cake!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ru0BcuqiWaI/AAAAAAAAAB0/5x8oHf-PkIs/s1600-h/DSC00313.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ru0BcuqiWaI/AAAAAAAAAB0/5x8oHf-PkIs/s320/DSC00313.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110742745209788834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;small whore and fat whore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ru0Bc-qiWcI/AAAAAAAAACE/h_8hLT9jgoY/s1600-h/mummy.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ru0Bc-qiWcI/AAAAAAAAACE/h_8hLT9jgoY/s320/mummy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110742749504756162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;slut and old slut. haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ru0Bc-qiWdI/AAAAAAAAACM/EXkxOVmo6cc/s1600-h/mummy1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ru0Bc-qiWdI/AAAAAAAAACM/EXkxOVmo6cc/s320/mummy1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110742749504756178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;putting everyone's cam whoring skill to shame.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ruz_5uqiWWI/AAAAAAAAABU/LevIBV8QsgA/s1600-h/calvin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ruz_5uqiWWI/AAAAAAAAABU/LevIBV8QsgA/s320/calvin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110741044402739554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;small heavy whore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ruz_5-qiWXI/AAAAAAAAABc/JJ41N_Y8JAU/s1600-h/DSC00337.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ruz_5-qiWXI/AAAAAAAAABc/JJ41N_Y8JAU/s320/DSC00337.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110741048697706866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;the crazy amount of food for 80 people. they didnt celebrate it like this the last time i won the world genius award. bummer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ruz_5-qiWYI/AAAAAAAAABk/deVIxA74Jno/s1600-h/DSC00318.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ruz_5-qiWYI/AAAAAAAAABk/deVIxA74Jno/s320/DSC00318.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110741048697706882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;old slut's sister and old slut. haha she would kill me if she ever read this. old slut is my mom by the way. haha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ruz_5-qiWZI/AAAAAAAAABs/WNSxcR8UD2I/s1600-h/DSC00319.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ruz_5-qiWZI/AAAAAAAAABs/WNSxcR8UD2I/s320/DSC00319.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110741048697706898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;the craziest creamiest fattest cake in the world&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ru0D9-qiWiI/AAAAAAAAAC0/Cu9whzXpVEU/s1600-h/DSC00333.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ru0D9-qiWiI/AAAAAAAAAC0/Cu9whzXpVEU/s320/DSC00333.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110745515463694882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;this is a fucking jelly! how awesome is tht!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;More pictures coming up soon! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&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/4140420326670209976-6457300709703972516?l=mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/6457300709703972516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4140420326670209976&amp;postID=6457300709703972516' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/6457300709703972516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/6457300709703972516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-pick-fight-just-to-get-reaction.html' title='i pick a fight just to get a reaction'/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/Ru0D9uqiWfI/AAAAAAAAACc/Eh4ErrNcInE/s72-c/satay.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4140420326670209976.post-5106320915032021262</id><published>2007-09-03T14:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-03T15:52:08.967-07:00</updated><title type='text'>duck, duck, duck, bitch</title><content type='html'>Im waking up at funny hours nowadays. I woke up at 5 am and obviously not a single soul would entertain me at such hours. The only person who &lt;s&gt;doesnt sleep&lt;/s&gt; have funny sleeping time is Kwan Shian but he's not online either. I miss our crazy late night drives to kl, and him banging my neighbours dustbin. I miss the times when we would go all the way to KL to eat your stupid Osyter fried egg. I miss you throwing your temper when weihoe and I was supposed to go somewhere together and you were totally not happy about it. I have to come over to your house, tell your mom you merajuk and knock on your door for ages till you open. I miss my pookie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was making so much noise about buying my stuff the other day that I wanted it on the night itself. Obviously the stubborn me would want it straight away and when Sam called I told him I want to buy it there and then. He's been dealing with my stubborn-ess all the time so all he said was "People gonna close already. Buy tomorrow ok?. And you sure you want it? You sure You sure?". Then obviously by the time I finish whining for it, what shop also close already. I also dont know why I listen to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I love how he is always right and I'm always wrong. It feels damn good because I know he knows me the best. He know when I'm pretending to be alright by the tone of my voice. I love how he sayang me so much that he would tell me the occasion 'i love you'.  And the best thing is, even when no one seems understands me, I will always go to him, cry and whine about it and he neveer judge me (he's a saint!!). But I drove him nuts the other day. Sohweeee :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I wanted Big Apple donuts the other day. Almond donut totally rock. I was craving for donuts for so long until.. until.. I ate 6 on Sunday which of course makes me feel like a pig (not that im not). I told Sam I was bloated and he ask me to drink more water. So since he is always right and Im always wrong, I listen to him and drink alot of water so that my donuts will digest and ended up feeling even more bloated (but after a while I guess it helps?). So thats it, no more donuts for this &lt;s&gt;month&lt;/s&gt; week! I've been such a pig lately that I've been pigging out on fast food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway....,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know how when people tend to get all emotional towards random stuff that goes on inside their little head and they will neglect everyones feeling for their own. Of course its alright to show your feelings but ruining others mood because you're not in a good one seems rather selfish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just because people didnt fucking cry their hearts out and pour all their feelings doesnt mean that that person doesnt fucking feel a thing. There &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;ARE&lt;/span&gt; people in worst situation, in worst condition and stuff that would make small things you're fretting on seems like a pea on whale's vagina. Sure Im not in your shoes so I wouldnt know how bad you feel but hey I know it isnt nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im super phobia with this already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think if you were to hang out with my friends, you'll probably feel like hell because everyone speaks their mind about things. But now thanks to you, I totally found a living example of people I doesnt want to waste my time on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just want to be thankful that Im deeply blessed, highly favoured by God. Its great to have a bunch of people that love you. I feel loved :). Anyway to those of you reading this, have a cup of good juju from me to kickstart your day!!! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4140420326670209976-5106320915032021262?l=mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/5106320915032021262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4140420326670209976&amp;postID=5106320915032021262' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/5106320915032021262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/5106320915032021262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/2007/09/duck-duck-duck-bitch.html' title='duck, duck, duck, bitch'/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4140420326670209976.post-7333601470451939379</id><published>2007-09-01T04:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-01T06:15:27.088-07:00</updated><title type='text'>whale's vagina smells like donut.</title><content type='html'>I was watching &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1_Litre_of_Tears"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; drama and I feel like I should appreciate little things in life more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;1. I'll stop messing my clothes around only to have my mom pick them up. I'll pick them up now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;2. I want to roll on the beautiful green grass (not the wet ones)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;3. I will start planning for my career&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;4. I want to work harder for things in life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;5. I promise to be happier everytime im sad knowing that I have more reasons to be happy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;6. I will eat breakfast with my mom on sunday more often and not give reasons because im too sleepy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;7. I will save more money&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;8. I will be consistently consistent&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;9. I wanna adopt a cute puppy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;10. I will go to church more often&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;11. I wont give up on people. even the bad ones.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;12. I will drink all the bitter herbal stuff my mom made for me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;13. I will finish my food&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;14. I won't take things for granted anymore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway I watched Black Sheep yesterday and my first thought was another gore horror movie but then suprise suprise turns out to be a comedy. Whole time of the movie reminds me of Erika because of the random things that the actress said. Like one of the scene where they fell down into this hole full of sheeps' intestines and stuff (dead sheeps), all of the sudden she brought this aromatic candle and said that she need some hormone balance now and the candle will help (something along the line of that laaa). It was fucking random. It totally caught me off guard I didnt see that coming at all. Its definitely not the type of movie you would want to watch in the cinema, you'll have better time watching it on dvd to replay some of the scenes over and over again because its just bloody hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;toodles i'll update more often!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4140420326670209976-7333601470451939379?l=mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/7333601470451939379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4140420326670209976&amp;postID=7333601470451939379' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/7333601470451939379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/7333601470451939379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/2007/09/whales-vagina-smells-like-donut.html' title='whale&apos;s vagina smells like donut.'/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4140420326670209976.post-2732426971599209992</id><published>2007-08-25T03:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-25T03:50:35.503-07:00</updated><title type='text'>woowahhwahhh</title><content type='html'>So I woke up today bright and shiny again. I went for shopping after boy dropped me off. And I just fall inlove with something which I am really questioning myself if I should get it. Should I? Im absolutely inlove with it but again, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt; absolutely inlove with every thing else I bought too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4140420326670209976-2732426971599209992?l=mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/2732426971599209992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4140420326670209976&amp;postID=2732426971599209992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/2732426971599209992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/2732426971599209992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/2007/08/woowahhwahhh.html' title='woowahhwahhh'/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4140420326670209976.post-1229910968572720143</id><published>2007-08-16T06:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T08:18:27.655-07:00</updated><title type='text'>future is a dirty word.</title><content type='html'>Things/People that I know I might just miss when I leave Rapp:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1. Wendy Wonder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only self claimed healthiest vegetarian on earth that can eat fish and chicken and STILL be a vegetarian after lunch. She's really really funny and I'm not saying that because you're reading this but yeah laughing with you seems like an old routine to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2. Mr Yee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Razlan was telling Armi that Yee is my best friend because he overheard me calling Yee every morning asking him why didnt he wait for me for breakfast. And despite the fact it doesnt take much effort to crack him up, just say "sek fan" and we'll both burst out laughing. I think we laughed at the same joke everyday. Damn sad I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;3. Raz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one that didnt call me the day Cyna got raid and cabut. The one that said that if we stay together(one of those moments when we were house hunting and we came across this super nice place with super huge balcony), I'm not allowed to bring guys back but he can have his girls at home. As if I won't bring any home. I remember whining in his PD house that I want to drink water and I was gonna sleep you see. He brought water to my bed and tuck me to sleep. Ahh I feel so loved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;4. Zakky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one who threaten me with my own pictures because it was kononnya in his phone and I owe him 3 bottles of orange juice for fucks. Always teach me the right way to do the wrong things (bad influence giler). The one who gives me one of the nicest bear hug whenever Im sad. I feel loveddd too. So he deserve a watch. See??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RsRd9HAJYXI/AAAAAAAAABM/VIAbqservA0/s1600-h/Image059.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 184px; height: 183px;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RsRd9HAJYXI/AAAAAAAAABM/VIAbqservA0/s320/Image059.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099303982523310450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;*It was supposed to be a Rolex but erm something's wrong with the watch. Go figure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;5. Erika&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's probably one of the funninest funny person. Erika is a good girl who talks alot of nonsense. Seriously she's damn funny. There was once on the way back from lunch, she saw this piece of pineapple on the floor, all of the sudden she just run and jumped on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;6. Daniel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THe most emo-iest emo guy in Rapp. I could probably blame him for all the bruise that I have and he always promise to make me smart again (err internal jokes ppl) But anyway back to Daniel, he's also another super funny person cause he would die watching football. If his house was on fire, he would still sit down on the couch and watch football. This kinda Liverpool fan where to find. He thought he was the most unluckiest guy on earth cause he have to work on weekend until.. erm lets not start the war.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;7. Will&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be continue because Alicia needs to sleep. Watch out for this part because the climax is this one. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;SEKK FANNN!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4140420326670209976-1229910968572720143?l=mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/1229910968572720143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4140420326670209976&amp;postID=1229910968572720143' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/1229910968572720143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/1229910968572720143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/2007/08/future-is-dirty-word.html' title='future is a dirty word.'/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RsRd9HAJYXI/AAAAAAAAABM/VIAbqservA0/s72-c/Image059.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4140420326670209976.post-4840289275576160986</id><published>2007-08-13T07:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T07:43:47.102-07:00</updated><title type='text'>im not that fond of soft toys. really.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RsBpoXM-LGI/AAAAAAAAAAs/SO9AdcIGYJI/s1600-h/bibi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RsBpoXM-LGI/AAAAAAAAAAs/SO9AdcIGYJI/s320/bibi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098190920327507042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Cute right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RsBpo3M-LHI/AAAAAAAAAA0/DWHt2g6aPC0/s1600-h/bubu.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RsBpo3M-LHI/AAAAAAAAAA0/DWHt2g6aPC0/s320/bubu.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098190928917441650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On my modem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RsBpo3M-LII/AAAAAAAAAA8/9m_9C5XgG_s/s1600-h/fucker.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RsBpo3M-LII/AAAAAAAAAA8/9m_9C5XgG_s/s320/fucker.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098190928917441666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I dont know where my fucker tshirt went. I liked it alot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RsBpo3M-LJI/AAAAAAAAABE/pmshvJ28VAA/s1600-h/bibubibu.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 119px;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RsBpo3M-LJI/AAAAAAAAABE/pmshvJ28VAA/s320/bibubibu.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098190928917441682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Bibi and the deceased Bubu back when they were babies. Bibi's big now. I feed them sausages. Ayam Mas :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4140420326670209976-4840289275576160986?l=mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/4840289275576160986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4140420326670209976&amp;postID=4840289275576160986' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/4840289275576160986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/4840289275576160986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/2007/08/im-not-that-fond-of-soft-toys-really.html' title='im not that fond of soft toys. really.'/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RsBpoXM-LGI/AAAAAAAAAAs/SO9AdcIGYJI/s72-c/bibi.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4140420326670209976.post-6525801420318321694</id><published>2007-08-08T05:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-08T08:59:03.867-07:00</updated><title type='text'>pause it at our favorite parts.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;There's no shame in being afraid. Hell, we're all afraid. What you got to do is figure out what you're afraid of, because when you put a face on it you can beat it. Better yet, you can use it. Looking back on what I said all those years ago, all the hopes and dreams I had, I've come to the conclusion that if having things turn out the way you wanted them to is a measure of a successful life, then I would be a failure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to admit that good things don't come easy. Infact, they always always come last. And once you grab hold of it, it feels pretty damn good. Sometimes I want to grab hold of so many good things in life that I would pause it at my favorite parts and skip the goodbyes. But am I afraid of being afraid? YES&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;Anyway on a lighter note, I'm feeling pretty random (not like I'm not random all the time) that I think you should know that:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm afraid of dark.&lt;/span&gt; I'm afraid of walking at dark places because I'm scared of hmm creepy things. Especially my night after watching horror movie, I still remember after watching Exorcism of Emily Rose, I think I didn't sleep well for a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; I count my steps when I walk. &lt;/span&gt;Pretty strange habit I know but I can't help it. I like to step right in the middle of the tiles because I hate stepping on the line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I tried to cook rice without water.&lt;/span&gt; I just didn't know that I need to put water to cook it. But I'm a pretty good cook now :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm afraid of leg cramps.&lt;/span&gt; You know how whenever you have leg cramp, its pain and &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;ur&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; toes feel kind of weird? Pain aside, I'm just afraid I won't feel my toes again and I have cute toes so it would be TRAGIC if I can't move them anymore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm easily distracted.&lt;/span&gt; Like how everytime someone is talking to me especially when I'm sms-ing, typing or talking, I would accidently type out whatever that someone is talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; I'm afraid of cats.&lt;/span&gt; Stray ones. Can't remember when but I saw this scary stray cat jump onto someone's lap to reach for the food. I don’t want them to jump on me. I get pretty paranoid around cats, I would just refuse to eat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I repeat Dashboard Confessional&lt;/span&gt; so many times I think I ruined it. Omg like how I'm listening to Taking Back Sunday, Jimmy Eat World and Matchbook Romance over and over again now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm afraid of people puking.&lt;/span&gt; Somehow it would makes me want to puke too. Peer pressure right&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I laughed till I puked &lt;/span&gt;once because my friend was really damn funny and I laughed too hard for like a good half an hour bending down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm afraid of taking lift alone.&lt;/span&gt; I count the seconds for the lift to open and I always stare at the display because I'm scared that the lift will stop moving&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I accidently flushed my turtle (Bubu) down the toilet.&lt;/span&gt; So all together there was Bubu, Bibi (it was supposed to be bibubibu ) and WeewangwangWeewangwang. My friend said that Bubu might survive with all the shit. Sadness,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I have a thing for cute nerds.&lt;/span&gt; The whole Adam Brody type.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in a meeting and it was so fucking boring but I can't YAWN. It wouldn't look nice infront of the client so &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I was really refraining myself from yawning&lt;/span&gt;. After that I had jaw ache the whole day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Like right now, I think I've been listening to Matchbook Romance for the past 3 hours because &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I fucking don't get enough of it in the office.&lt;/span&gt; Note, same song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I like smelling cheeks. &lt;/span&gt;Not butt cheeks pleease, cheeks cheeks.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I cried watching One Tree Hills. &lt;/span&gt;Okay la I cried abit during Transformers also when Bumblebee was injured and I thought he was gonna die (ahhh sappy moments).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I can't stand messy collars.&lt;/span&gt; I have the urge to fix people's collar if its messy. Even strangers.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4140420326670209976-6525801420318321694?l=mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/6525801420318321694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4140420326670209976&amp;postID=6525801420318321694' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/6525801420318321694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/6525801420318321694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/2007/08/pause-it-at-our-favorite-parts.html' title='pause it at our favorite parts.'/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4140420326670209976.post-1582435738395960884</id><published>2007-08-05T04:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T04:27:29.461-07:00</updated><title type='text'>we lay, we lay together</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;-I'm thankful.&lt;/span&gt; Thankful that you are always there for me whenever i need you. i'm sorry that i didn't picked up ur calls the other day, i was angry at you. i just wanna find a reason to be angry but you're so damn good in making me feel bad with your sappy voice. oh i heart you so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;-I'm sorry.&lt;/span&gt; I'm sorry I played with your feelings. I know how you feel towards me, i'm not blind. I'm sorry that I never picked up your calls. I really don't understand what you see in me because no matter how bad i treated you, you always always try to understand me. Like how the other day you purposely come to see me (i know you came for me ok) but i just left knowing you would come. I'll try to be nicer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;-I'm not sorry.&lt;/span&gt; I'm not sorry that you're out of my life. Infact I wish I'd done that earlier because you don't deserve to be in my life. There was once I wished all the awful things would happen to you but again, I'm not you. And I'm much better than this. Do whatever fuck you want as long as you stay out of mine. And a friendly reminder, stay away from my friends, find your own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;-I'm not suprised.&lt;/span&gt; Why am I not suprise that you fuck around more than I did? I think the best deception award goes to you. I knew I wasn't your only one, and perhaps a lil more special than the rest but boy I was dead wrong. But again, I wasn't in for the real thing, you're just a mere distraction. Incase you want to know, try to make sure all your flings doesn't know each other. It won't be pretty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;-I know you know&lt;/span&gt; that your hot thats why I didn't bother to say hi. So the next time, instead of waiting for me to say hello, perhaps you can just stop looking at me that way and do something about it. I knew you were smilling at me, I was looking at you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;-Oh poster boy&lt;/span&gt;, stop sitting at the side of the road for God sake. Its not classy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;-Don't you dare&lt;/span&gt; call me that. If you don't like the things I do, stay out of my fucking life then. Don't just come into my life and try to make it perfect. Its not and I love that its cracked here and there. I'm not perfect and I don't want to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;-I'm not sorry&lt;/span&gt; things end this way. I wish it didn't get this ugly but right now, I'm just so glad its over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;-I'm sorry&lt;/span&gt; I left without saying bye. You didn't get much sleep with me at the side obviously. I remember smelling like you the whole day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4140420326670209976-1582435738395960884?l=mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/1582435738395960884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4140420326670209976&amp;postID=1582435738395960884' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/1582435738395960884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/1582435738395960884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/2007/08/sam-i-sayang-you-so-much.html' title='we lay, we lay together'/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4140420326670209976.post-2492883756546892504</id><published>2007-07-31T06:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T07:08:59.006-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I think i think...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;You know something really really weird happened today. Hmm but it’s a good weird. You see, I withdraw rm500 for shopping the other day so by the end of the day, I was left with rm 50+. I was so absolutely sure that I was left with rm50+ because I was hesitating whether to get that rm80 buck heels or not. So being a big sucker for shoes, I swear this one was calling MY NAME! so I bought it and I was so sure I left only rm50. Okay so I went home, feeling guilty yet in deep pleasure, swore on Sniffy's life that I &lt;s&gt;won't&lt;/s&gt; will shop less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Monday morning, I looked inside my wallet and there were TWO rm50 notes in it. Strange right but I thought maybe I had rm50 extra. Okay so this morning, I SWEAR on Sniffy's life again that I triple checked my wallet and condamnfirm I’m left with rm100++ (including all those small change I always throw inside my bag). So I bought my ciggie as usual, had breakfast with Andrew and I condamnfirm again I used up all my small change. So I KNOW I'm left with rm50+rm50 and I took rm50 out for lunch. I was condamnfirm again that I used my rm50 because the auntie (where we had lunch) didn't have enough change for me and she made me wait. So obviously I remember waiting for it, am I right or am I right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after that I bought a few drinks here n there, magazine and ice cream. Okay so here's the weirdest part. I looked into my wallet again, and I still had the TWO rm50 notes there. OMG weird right. I obviously wouldn't mind my rm50 cloning itself but it’s so weird! Where did the extra rm50 come from? I shall take a peep peep tonight just erm for safety reason.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4140420326670209976-2492883756546892504?l=mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/2492883756546892504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4140420326670209976&amp;postID=2492883756546892504' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/2492883756546892504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/2492883756546892504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-think-i-think.html' title='I think i think...'/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4140420326670209976.post-7030488555234257508</id><published>2007-07-29T03:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-29T07:51:33.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i was spinning free whooaaaaa</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Listening to: Jimmy Eat World's album&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#ECECEC" id="radioblog_player_0" flashvars="id=0&amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen?u=.8yck5WdvN3Ln9Gbi5ybpRWYy9SbvNmLz5WYsBHbpZXZ51mL3d3d/Jimmy%2520Eat%2520World%2520-%2520Sweetness.rbs&amp;amp;cover=1&amp;crossfader=1&amp;amp;replay=1&amp;colors=body:#ECECEC;border:#BBBBBB;button:#999999;player_text:#999999;playlist_text:#999999;" height="23" width="180"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RqypQHM-LFI/AAAAAAAAAAk/gN0OGZCDJMc/s1600-h/alicia_polkadottie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RqypQHM-LFI/AAAAAAAAAAk/gN0OGZCDJMc/s320/alicia_polkadottie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092631372925643858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This is a story about an ordinary girl and the extraordinary boy. The ordinary girl thought the extraordinary boy was really cute but it never crosses her mind at all that he will have feelings for her one day. She would always find excuses to talk to him, anything to just hear him. Soon, she realizes that he was more than just a trophy boy. For a fleet moment she was sure that the boy felt the same way too but just one day, she thought to herself that they came from a different world, different league, just different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;She asked the extraordinary boy, "When all your dreams come true, who would you want to be next to?" He answered that he would want to be next to his ex girlfriend. The girl was heart broken and with a heavy heart, she left the extraordinary boy and shut him out of her life. And soon she was in relationship with an ordinary boy. Someone ordinary like herself. Years later, the ordinary boy left her and she was lost in the world because she depended on the ordinary boy so much that she was unable to stand on her own feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things were tough for the first week but only the first week. She was surprised how easy it was to move on. So she went back to a place she once belong and look for people she once, perhaps loved; the extraordinary boy because he never left her heart all these years. Things between both of them quickly settled back to the way they were years back. Morning kiss and midnight talk. To see that the extraordinary boy felt the same was probably the happiest moment in her life. However, good things always come to an end because the king ordered the extraordinary boy to go somewhere far far away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Somehow, the extraordinary boy began to act weird and avoided the girl. The girl was really upset with his attitude. She blame herself perhaps she wasn't good enough. So one day, all of the sudden the extraordinary boy asked the ordinary girl out for dinner. She expected it to be a farewell dinner; nothing more, nothing less. During the dinner, the extraordinary boy confessed that the reason why he avoided her is because he realized he fell in love with her and he knew that it will hurt her more. But he also realized that by avoiding her, it only hurt her more; that was why he asked her out for dinner. The extraordinary boy told the ordinary girl that he was stupid and silly for avoiding her, avoiding his feelings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was shocked because all these while, she thought the reason why he avoided her was because she wasn't good enough. And also because she didn't have the guts to ask the extraordinary boy why he was avoiding her, she choose to live with it’s because she wasn't good enough. Tears fall from her eyes and the next thing she know, the extraordinary boy kissed her. And then, he said "Its you. When all my dreams come true, I want you to be right next to me. Its you Alicia. And I never would have asked you to wait for me because that would be selfish but I want you to know I'll come back for you. You might already have somebody by the time I'm back but I'll wait." The ordinary girl was stunned with his words because it was really the last thing she expected from him. So she did what she thought was most appropriate at that moment, she kissed him back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;-Probably got alot of grammatical errors but fuck it. I didn't look back as I type. I'm going to die happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4140420326670209976-7030488555234257508?l=mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/7030488555234257508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4140420326670209976&amp;postID=7030488555234257508' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/7030488555234257508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/7030488555234257508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-was-spinning-free-whooaaaaa.html' title='i was spinning free whooaaaaa'/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RqypQHM-LFI/AAAAAAAAAAk/gN0OGZCDJMc/s72-c/alicia_polkadottie.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4140420326670209976.post-4663687577086168787</id><published>2007-07-18T07:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-18T13:51:04.472-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><title type='text'>but its always too late when you got nothing</title><content type='html'>Why on earth would I wake up at 4 am? And the first thing I think about is work which of course really irritates me since this stupid bitch from the office keep changing my computer. For the 3rd TIME! Its super irritating when  you have to keep saving ALL your files somewhere. So Eugene has a sucky computer which hardly work. So the bitch playing her role so well, she just decided that changing his comp with mine would do JUSTICE. Then who the fuck is going to solve MY computer problem now?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4140420326670209976-4663687577086168787?l=mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/4663687577086168787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4140420326670209976&amp;postID=4663687577086168787' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/4663687577086168787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/4663687577086168787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/2007/07/but-its-always-too-late-when-you-got.html' title='but its always too late when you got nothing'/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4140420326670209976.post-8042679265071107635</id><published>2007-07-17T03:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-18T07:31:55.045-07:00</updated><title type='text'>don't it feels like sunshine after all.</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Listening to: Augustana- Stars and Boulevards&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally my sanity's back after I lost her for weeks. I'm playing my sick role too well that I'm actually sick now. The past weeks was full of undeserving thoughts. By undeserving I meant that my time would be better spent rolling on my bed. At least I'm getting something out of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4140420326670209976-8042679265071107635?l=mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/8042679265071107635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4140420326670209976&amp;postID=8042679265071107635' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/8042679265071107635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/8042679265071107635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/2007/07/dont-it-feels-like-sunshine-after-all.html' title='don&apos;t it feels like sunshine after all.'/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4140420326670209976.post-4187708415699568897</id><published>2007-07-11T06:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-29T07:43:43.551-07:00</updated><title type='text'>people always leave.</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Listening to: Nine Days- If I Am&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash"  src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" allowScriptAccess="always" width="180" height="23"  bgcolor="#ECECEC"  id="radioblog_player_0"  FlashVars="id=0&amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen?u=vMHZuV3bz9yZvxmYu8WakFmcvUjLy4yZvxmYu8WakFmcvInZuUWZyZmLwJ3bjNnch12b/Nine%2520Days%2520-%2520If%2520I%2520Am.rbs&amp;cover=1&amp;crossfader=1&amp;replay=1&amp;colors=body:#ECECEC;border:#BBBBBB;button:#999999;player_text:#999999;playlist_text:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RpTijjaBciI/AAAAAAAAAAU/NkK4epKdM-M/s1600-h/myart_comics3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RpTijjaBciI/AAAAAAAAAAU/NkK4epKdM-M/s320/myart_comics3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5085938979635819042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;She asked him..When all your dreams come true, who would you want to be next to?And he said.. "I want her right next to me".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4140420326670209976-4187708415699568897?l=mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/4187708415699568897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4140420326670209976&amp;postID=4187708415699568897' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/4187708415699568897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/4187708415699568897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/2007/07/people-always-leave.html' title='people always leave.'/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RpTijjaBciI/AAAAAAAAAAU/NkK4epKdM-M/s72-c/myart_comics3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4140420326670209976.post-2023474480000999640</id><published>2007-07-10T06:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-29T07:41:45.159-07:00</updated><title type='text'>windows open and close. thats the way it goes.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Listening to: Jimmy Eat World- The World You Love&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash"  src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" allowScriptAccess="always" width="180" height="23"  bgcolor="#ECECEC"  id="radioblog_player_0"  FlashVars="id=0&amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen?u=vMHZuV3bz9yZvxmYu8WakFmcvQ2Y0JXYhhmfv02bj5yYulmepRmLzIzczFGc/Jimmy%2520Eat%2520World%2520-%2520The%2520World%2520You%2520Love.rbs&amp;cover=1&amp;crossfader=1&amp;replay=1&amp;colors=body:#ECECEC;border:#BBBBBB;button:#999999;player_text:#999999;playlist_text:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If it is born in flames then we should let it burn,&lt;br /&gt;Burn as brightly as we can.&lt;br /&gt;And if it's gotta end then let it end in flames.&lt;br /&gt;Let it burn all the way down.&lt;br /&gt;All the way down"&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4140420326670209976-2023474480000999640?l=mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/2023474480000999640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4140420326670209976&amp;postID=2023474480000999640' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/2023474480000999640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/2023474480000999640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/2007/07/windows-open-and-close-thats-way-it.html' title='windows open and close. thats the way it goes.'/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4140420326670209976.post-2300922404022092085</id><published>2007-07-09T07:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-29T07:39:01.202-07:00</updated><title type='text'>finding a nice way to say "i'm out". i want out.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Listening to: Dashboard Confessional-Stolen (Click play to listen)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash"  src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" allowScriptAccess="always" width="180" height="23"  bgcolor="#00CC00"  id="radioblog_player_0"  FlashVars="id=0&amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen?u=vMHZuV3bz9SYpRWZtlGdsVXbvIDduVmcy9Gd-9SbvNmLwRHdoVmdyV2cuQzZulGdz9GalNWYwNXa/dashboard_confessional-stolen.rbs&amp;cover=1&amp;crossfader=1&amp;replay=1&amp;colors=body:#00CC00;border:#330000;button:#000000;player_text:#330000;playlist_text:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RpJL9TaBchI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5FJx41za0D0/s1600-h/oth.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RpJL9TaBchI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5FJx41za0D0/s320/oth.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5085210445808235026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;They're not you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;But I'll walk away.&lt;br /&gt;From you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;and this false sense of acomplishment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;I fucking broke my nail. You see I'm not exactly  that type of girl who will rant about her broken nail, but I broke my nail while trying to flush the fucking toilet!  And its bloody painful because I can't fucking cut it off! Its too deep, plus HELLO I'm scared. So I'm just gonna leave it alone until it falls off?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I had a fucking stressful Monday.  I swear advertising  makes  my  life span wayyy shorter and that I'm so gonna die young!  My reason of death will be  "Too Stress". See now it leads  me thinking why did I study this shit in the first place, I would have more fun flipping burgers.  At LEAST Bruce Willis was discovered WHILE he was flipping burgers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll try not to kill anyone. Bahh. Maybe I'll just torture Zak tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;s&gt;Just random.. random pictures.&lt;/s&gt; Taken down!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so selfish and greedy I've decided to keep his pictures to myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4140420326670209976-2300922404022092085?l=mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/feeds/2300922404022092085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4140420326670209976&amp;postID=2300922404022092085' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/2300922404022092085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4140420326670209976/posts/default/2300922404022092085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydeletedscenes.blogspot.com/2007/07/alicia.html' title='finding a nice way to say &quot;i&apos;m out&quot;. i want out.'/><author><name>ali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13620015038415861075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/R8JcDEl6HLI/AAAAAAAAADo/jSZQFpgTzfU/S220/n891965047_1354461_9375.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_BKLIcdipOzo/RpJL9TaBchI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5FJx41za0D0/s72-c/oth.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
