<?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-9548076</id><updated>2011-11-28T08:48:45.673+08:00</updated><category term='Writing high'/><category term='attempts at poetry'/><title type='text'>French Patisserie</title><subtitle type='html'>A blog. Because that's what it is.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><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>39</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9548076.post-2294705397444736298</id><published>2008-05-13T03:28:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T03:28:43.418+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Moving!</title><content type='html'>I'm moving over to http://jomcode.com/fadhil&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-2294705397444736298?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/2294705397444736298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=2294705397444736298' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/2294705397444736298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/2294705397444736298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2008/05/im-moving.html' title='I&apos;m Moving!'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9548076.post-4901338721761140082</id><published>2008-04-30T17:23:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T17:32:32.290+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Faith</title><content type='html'>Going through &lt;a href="http://cheponism.blogspot.com/2008/04/its-matter-of-faith.html"&gt;this post&lt;/a&gt; in a &lt;a href="http://cheponism.blogspot.com/"&gt;friend's blog&lt;/a&gt;, I was reminded of a story I once heard someone tell me concerning faith in a way. I can't retell it verbatim, so if anyone has a more exact version, or if I got the story wrong, do let me know. Here is the story as I can recall:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An opponent of Islam approached an Imam who was a teacher of Islam and said to him "Who is this God that you worship? You cannot see him, nor hear him, or feel him nor smell him".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tell me how is it that you can believe in a thing that you cannot prove to exist? Answer me that!" he asked the Imam cockily, thinking he had asked a question that would be unanswered by the religious man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Imam looked calmly at the non-believer, lifted his hand and promptly smacked the other man across the face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The non-believer's eyes widened in surprise. While he was still reeling from shock, the Imam asked him "Does it hurt?" to which the heathen replied indignantly "Of course it hurts!". Without skipping a beat, the Imam continued "But how can I believe that you have pain? I cannot see your pain, nor hear your pain, not taste it, nor feel it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And with this, the non-believer was enlightened.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-4901338721761140082?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/4901338721761140082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=4901338721761140082' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/4901338721761140082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/4901338721761140082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2008/04/faith.html' title='Faith'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9548076.post-8933950667859593548</id><published>2008-04-29T14:55:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T14:56:58.984+08:00</updated><title type='text'>windmill hill graffiti</title><content type='html'>&lt;style type="text/css"&gt;.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }&lt;/style&gt;&lt;div class="flickr-frame"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pshab/422895344/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img style="width: 455px; height: 312px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/145/422895344_d8c925ccc0.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span class="flickr-caption"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pshab/422895344/"&gt;windmill hill graffiti&lt;/a&gt;, originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/pshab/"&gt;pshab&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;    &lt;p class="flickr-yourcomment"&gt; This is exactly what I mean. So free we are. How unconstrained by human made rules. Silly rules like working from 9 - 5? Perish the thought! We work willingly, at any time we please, it just so happens that we tend to work from 9 - 5, for some reason. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Throngs of drones, identical in their pressed shirts and ties, decide to have lunch at 1.00 pm, because naturally that's the time when humans feels hungry. "I'm an individual" you hear one of them voice. You turn your head to identify this "free soul" who has decided to break away from convention, only to find your gaze lost in a sea of GQ and designer hairstyles. Each exactly the same as the other, gelled spike for gelled spike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gelled spikes that hide dreams of big cars and houses, moneys and titles and fame and power. Because that's what everyone dreams of. That is the definition of success. And who doesn't want success?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"go to work, send your kids to school&lt;br /&gt;follow fashion, act normal&lt;br /&gt;walk on the pavements, watch T.V.&lt;br /&gt;save for your old age, obey the law&lt;br /&gt;Repeat after me: I am free"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-8933950667859593548?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/8933950667859593548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=8933950667859593548' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/8933950667859593548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/8933950667859593548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2008/04/windmill-hill-graffiti.html' title='windmill hill graffiti'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/145/422895344_d8c925ccc0_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9548076.post-2746002573611957999</id><published>2008-04-07T19:07:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T19:13:13.670+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Let the World Read</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;From &lt;a href="http://jomread.com/"&gt;jomread.com&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;"You know how you sometimes think “I’d like to pick up a good book and sit in and read this Sunday”, but never seem to because you didn’t have time to look for one, or because shelling out RM80 for a book you might end up reading only once seems too wasteful?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Remember one of your friends who not only loves reading books, but loves spreading the knowledge too? The one who will go out of the way just to lend you a great book? All you have to do is just meet up with that particular friend and bring home something to read. Easy, isn’t it?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;We are not here to replace you generous friend. But we sure would like to be one of yours. That’s why we would love to lend you one book at a time for you to read, once you’ve finished it, we’ll send you another one."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Head on over to &lt;a href="http://jomread.com/"&gt;jomread.com&lt;/a&gt; if you love reading!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-2746002573611957999?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/2746002573611957999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=2746002573611957999' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/2746002573611957999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/2746002573611957999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2008/04/let-world-read.html' title='Let the World Read'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-1304875770707603319</id><published>2008-04-01T02:50:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T02:59:16.702+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Genius.</title><content type='html'>My mom &lt;a href="http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2005/11/grow.html"&gt;writes me notes a lot&lt;/a&gt;; words of wisdom and other such pearls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This &lt;a href="http://obefiend.blogspot.com/2008_03_01_archive.html"&gt;fella's post&lt;/a&gt; reminded me of a quote she had slipped me once,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Nothing in the world will take away persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than an unsuccessful man with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are" omnipotent."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Calvin Coolidge&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I thought I'd share it. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&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/9548076-1304875770707603319?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/1304875770707603319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=1304875770707603319' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/1304875770707603319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/1304875770707603319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2008/04/genius.html' title='Genius.'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-7964767960266487772</id><published>2008-03-05T10:39:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T11:04:35.203+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mari mengundi!</title><content type='html'>Di Kg Dusun!  &lt;a href="http://kg-dusun.myminicity.com/"&gt;http://kg-dusun.myminicity.com/.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-7964767960266487772?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/7964767960266487772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=7964767960266487772' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/7964767960266487772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/7964767960266487772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2008/03/mari-mengundi.html' title='Mari mengundi!'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-8622733515120672540</id><published>2008-03-02T07:33:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T08:21:32.946+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Writing high'/><title type='text'>I'll take "Stupid Answers" for $200.</title><content type='html'>"Time's fun when you're having flies"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's a frog's favourite saying?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just realized I'm a huge procrastinator. Actually I didn't just realize that, I just never got to writing about it till now. Because I didn't have the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do we? Why do we not do the things needing done? Finding numerous excuses not to do something &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;now&lt;/span&gt; seems to almost come naturally. We always find excuses to not do something now. My favourite is when I say "But it's almost midnight and I have to go to work tomorrow". And then continue to browse Facebook till 4 a.m.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must write, but I give myself lame excuses that always seem to work on me. What dumbshit gets duped by himself? Me, apparently. Stupid dumbshit goddamn motherfucker. Offspring. That's what it reminds me of. Which reminds me of this girl in university. She wore a t-shirt with the words 'stupid dumbshit goddamn motherfucker' written on the back during orientation. Her features appear vivid in my mind. She's related to me, in a distant second cousinish sort of way. Rina? Rita! I think it was she who wore that shirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The unwrapping of God's gift to women has begun! A daunting task faces our youngish hero. Will he make it? Will he succeed in unraveling that which women have longed for since the dawn of time? Or will the fate of unheroes before await him at the bitter end? Find out more when I feel like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder where Rita is. I think she's probably married. I wonder if she is? I maybe could find her on facebook if I wanted. Just to say hi is all. Rita. This must be what a stalker in the making's train of thought might sound like. She &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;is &lt;/span&gt;pretty hot though. And if I bring her God's gift? What then? But she's probably married. To Wes. I think that was his name. Wes. Dashing good looks, charisma, a smile that just beamed confidence and charm. Wes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to check out facebook. To reply messages. From people who are not named Rita. Maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-8622733515120672540?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/8622733515120672540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=8622733515120672540' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/8622733515120672540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/8622733515120672540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2008/03/ill-take-stupid-answers-for-200.html' title='I&apos;ll take &quot;Stupid Answers&quot; for $200.'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-6333844171693777692</id><published>2008-02-28T16:20:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-29T14:17:51.250+08:00</updated><title type='text'>They don't make cartoons like they used to...</title><content type='html'>Obefiend posted some &lt;a href="http://obefiend.blogspot.com/2008/02/remakes-on-tv.html"&gt;nostalgic entries&lt;/a&gt; of late, bringing back memories of classic TV series like McGyver, Bionic Woman,&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; *cough*&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;American Gladiator &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;*cough*, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Knight Rider and a whole gamut of colourful and entertaining television. Apparently these things are making a comeback, although one can not be too sure if they'll be able to carry over the original feel of the, well, originals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His next &lt;a href="http://obefiend.blogspot.com/2008/02/shit-that-i-want-when-i-was-kid.html"&gt;entry&lt;/a&gt; about the shortlived but very much loved cartoon, 'DinoRiders' (which kid didn't love &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;anything&lt;/span&gt; with dinosaurs in it?),  had me thinking "man, they don't make cartoons like they used to".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was about to make a list of cartoons that kick ass, but Obefiend already made a short one in his &lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14587572&amp;amp;postID=4308307365126128629&amp;amp;isPopup=true"&gt;comments&lt;/a&gt;, instead here are some cartoon theme songs that I think are so kick ass I will probably still be humming this shit when I'm in the old folks home. Prepare to feel the thunder inside!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spiral Zone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/irGIZtp8AfU"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/irGIZtp8AfU" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earth's most powerful soldiers, are earth's last chance against the odd assortment of meth addicts with a bad case of Herpes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saber Rider&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YXtQTzJKikg"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YXtQTzJKikg" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This show is badass! I still have shivers running down my spine when I hear Ramrod's mechanical voice say "Ramrod will now take navigational control. Head 'em up, move 'em out". And the guitar solo in the title song? Fan-fucken-tastic!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Visionaries&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/bzoGEnMnCRM"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/bzoGEnMnCRM" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knight of the magical light! This had magic and 3D holograms, there's no way you can you go wrong with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;G.I. Joe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/5YjfGex5JHY"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/5YjfGex5JHY" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Real American Heroes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thundercats (Which was conspicuously absent from Obefiend's list, I just realized).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Y-sOaUAgbB4"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Y-sOaUAgbB4" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sight beyond sight! And then there was always that parody that kids used to sing in school, "Cheetara lari laju, terbuka baju" or something to that effect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.A.S.K&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-vSD8DliZ1w"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-vSD8DliZ1w" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M-m-m-mask! I used to have the black jeep and the orange cadillac toys. Jackhammer and....Rhino was it? I forget, but so awesome nonetheless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would've included the theme song from Transformers, but everyone and their grandma's  got that as their ringtone nowadays, I'm sure you don't need to hear it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But here's one last theme song that I'm sure will give a blast to the past for all the 80's kids out there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jbTTrvUUoSI"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jbTTrvUUoSI" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yessir, Space Cop Gaban! Transforms in 0.005 seconds! Slices monsters bigger than medium sized cities! Batman ain't got nothin' on this motherfucker. For the less informed amongst you, there were two other space cops besides Gaban; Space Cop Sharivan and Space Cop Shaidar (of which I think Shaidar is the lamest). Check out this &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uchuu_Keiji_Gavan"&gt;wiki&lt;/a&gt; entry to load your head with more useless information you will never need in your practical everyday life! (You don't waste time on useless information, you say? Then tell me why is it that you can remember the theme song for Doraemon. In fucking Japanese.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay tuned for more bullshit when I feel like it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-6333844171693777692?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/6333844171693777692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=6333844171693777692' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/6333844171693777692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/6333844171693777692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2008/02/they-dont-make-cartoons-like-they-used.html' title='They don&apos;t make cartoons like they used to...'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-3079196113789959774</id><published>2008-02-27T19:06:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T09:17:31.093+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Beat this!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dnhc1u6zynw/R8VEfrKfdDI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Uepdw9xC4rI/s1600-h/plane.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dnhc1u6zynw/R8VEfrKfdDI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Uepdw9xC4rI/s320/plane.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171615058058245170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who would've thought that a flight simulation of a paper airplane could be so fascinating and addictive. Look forward to a whole day's worth of unproductive madness right &lt;a href="http://flightsimx.cyclops.amnesia.com.au/"&gt;here.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me know if you beat my score, because I'm pretty sure you can't. The other 21279 people? They're fucking cheats, that what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Update:&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dnhc1u6zynw/R8ebnGQKP2I/AAAAAAAAACY/TfzaP30Rgwk/s1600-h/plane.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dnhc1u6zynw/R8ebnGQKP2I/AAAAAAAAACY/TfzaP30Rgwk/s320/plane.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172273793053900642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;There are now only 15288 fucking cheats playing this game.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-3079196113789959774?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/3079196113789959774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=3079196113789959774' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/3079196113789959774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/3079196113789959774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2008/02/beat-this.html' title='Beat this!'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dnhc1u6zynw/R8VEfrKfdDI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Uepdw9xC4rI/s72-c/plane.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9548076.post-7887585721377281710</id><published>2008-01-28T15:32:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T09:17:31.111+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pirate Bay involved in mass leaks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dnhc1u6zynw/R52Fzu44noI/AAAAAAAAACI/XgM1GTeHnNU/s1600-h/incontinence.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dnhc1u6zynw/R52Fzu44noI/AAAAAAAAACI/XgM1GTeHnNU/s320/incontinence.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160427871842901634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Pirate Bay recently achieved 1 million torrent, causing mass incontinence amongst digg crowd. They must've been super excited!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;digg_url = 'http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2008/01/pirate-bay-involved-in-mass-leaks.html';&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-7887585721377281710?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/7887585721377281710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=7887585721377281710' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/7887585721377281710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/7887585721377281710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2008/01/pirate-bay-involved-in-mass-leaks.html' title='Pirate Bay involved in mass leaks'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dnhc1u6zynw/R52Fzu44noI/AAAAAAAAACI/XgM1GTeHnNU/s72-c/incontinence.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9548076.post-8046291008858522407</id><published>2008-01-24T11:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-24T11:47:53.542+08:00</updated><title type='text'>We're under attack!</title><content type='html'>Holy! West Sumatra is attacked by series of concentric circles! West Malaysia lies directly within orange zone! Watch &lt;a href="http://www.theonion.com/content/video/breaking_news_series_of"&gt;this video&lt;/a&gt; to find out more!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-8046291008858522407?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/8046291008858522407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=8046291008858522407' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/8046291008858522407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/8046291008858522407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2008/01/were-under-attack.html' title='We&apos;re under attack!'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-7486503149427459369</id><published>2008-01-23T21:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T21:21:21.652+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='attempts at poetry'/><title type='text'>Cinquains</title><content type='html'>And I remember reading about &lt;a href="http://teams.lacoe.edu/documentation/classrooms/amy/algebra/5-6/activities/poetry/cinquain.html"&gt;cinquains&lt;/a&gt; while figuring out what I've been &lt;a href="http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2008/01/blog-post.html"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;saying&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.  &lt;br /&gt;They're poems of sorts,&lt;br /&gt;with rules of course,&lt;br /&gt;and I have it in mind to write one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love&lt;br /&gt;Forever after&lt;br /&gt;Longing, wanting, needing&lt;br /&gt;Fill these empty feelings&lt;br /&gt;My dear&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-7486503149427459369?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/7486503149427459369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=7486503149427459369' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/7486503149427459369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/7486503149427459369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2008/01/cinquains.html' title='Cinquains'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-1445809228444086485</id><published>2008-01-23T20:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T21:46:29.076+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Of sheep and men.</title><content type='html'>I was just checking out a couple friends' blogs when I stumbled upon &lt;a href="http://cheponism.blogspot.com/2008/01/do-we-really-read-koran.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; over at &lt;a href="http://cheponism.blogspot.com/"&gt;Whoishe's&lt;/a&gt;. Too true. Many of us don't really understand our own religion. We get incensed over it when others mock it. But don't we mock it more by merely "acting out" the religion and not even &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feigning&lt;/span&gt; to understand the meanings behind it? I mean, if we were even &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pretending &lt;/span&gt;to be looking for answers, it might seem like we give a damn.  But we don't even do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or are we really just making it to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;look &lt;/span&gt;like we know to assuage the society we live in. So they'll think "look at that guy. Just look at him! 5 times  a day without a miss. A shining example of an outstanding Muslim!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe not even that! Maybe we're not even striving to look exemplary in the eyes of society at large. I suggest we might actually be doing it simply to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;avoid&lt;/span&gt; criticism. Fear. Not even a fear of God, but a fear of fellow man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran out of juice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I thought of a topic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I think it uncanny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are but sheep when we should be lions.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-1445809228444086485?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/1445809228444086485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=1445809228444086485' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/1445809228444086485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/1445809228444086485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2008/01/of-sheep-and-men.html' title='Of sheep and men.'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9548076.post-2416787667067416861</id><published>2008-01-23T19:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T21:25:17.885+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='attempts at poetry'/><title type='text'>Of Birds</title><content type='html'>The birds will fly&lt;br /&gt;To southern skies&lt;br /&gt;Or so that's what I hear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't know&lt;br /&gt;A hawk from a sparrow&lt;br /&gt;If the difference bit me in the rear&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-2416787667067416861?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/2416787667067416861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=2416787667067416861' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/2416787667067416861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/2416787667067416861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2008/01/blog-post.html' title='Of Birds'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9548076.post-864403904865889710</id><published>2008-01-19T19:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T21:30:10.805+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='attempts at poetry'/><title type='text'>The ways of words</title><content type='html'>Some say I have a way with words&lt;br /&gt;I say words have a way with me&lt;br /&gt;I pick out sentences from the ether&lt;br /&gt;With their meanings hidden within&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I see&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes it comes out at me&lt;br /&gt;And sometimes it just swallows me whole&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think and I stutter&lt;br /&gt;To say words that should oughta&lt;br /&gt;Give meaning to my life and my soul&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Sat, Jan 19th 2008&lt;br /&gt;  I wonder what this will sound like&lt;br /&gt;  once the trip's over.&lt;/span&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/9548076-864403904865889710?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/864403904865889710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=864403904865889710' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/864403904865889710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/864403904865889710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2008/01/some-say-i-have-way-with-words-i-say.html' title='The ways of words'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9548076.post-7031690384465802791</id><published>2008-01-10T15:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-10T15:39:34.732+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A little free advice.</title><content type='html'>People, brothers, sisters, countrymen,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This afternoon, I got an email from someone which claimed that &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BILL FUCKING GATES&lt;/span&gt; would &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;give you money&lt;/span&gt; if you forwarded said email to your friends like good little lemmings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I love you guys, I'm going to give you all a little advice.&lt;br /&gt;I would like for all of you to take a few minutes and &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;think&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Think &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;real hard&lt;/span&gt;. Like you've never thought before (because judging from how gullible you people are, I somehow doubt that any of you have ever tried this thing called thinking before).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now here's what I want you to think about;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;How the hell does Bill Gates get your&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;banking details&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; from your&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;email address&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Half of you aren't even using your &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;real names&lt;/span&gt; at all anywhere in your email address. How the hell is Bill Gates, omnipotent and powerful though you think he may be, going to know that mat_kool_1977@yahoo.com.sg has a savings account in HSBC? How the hell is anybody supposed to know who the hell mat_kool is, unless you already happen to be acquaintances and/or exchange emails regularly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right, you see how your head hurts now? That's your brain trying to move those rusty gears that it hasn't used in a while. That buzzing sound you hear? That's your cerebrum, creating nerve connections between the millions of brain cells that have been lying dormant in your skull. Trust me, this will be good exercise for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People, next time before you start randomly forwarding e-mails that claim to &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;give you something&lt;/span&gt; for &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;absofuckenlutely nothing&lt;/span&gt;, take a deep breath, and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;THINK&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. Don't be cows and follow the herd. Allah gave us a head with which we can evaluate situations, and determine if they might be good or bad. Or in this case, &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;fucking &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;POINTLESS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe, just maybe, if even 10% of you take heed of my advice, perhaps TMs sucky straight-from-hell-lame-ass-excuse-for-broadband service just might improve from the decrease in mass forwardings of moronic emails. And at the very least, I will have to sift through less shit in my Inbox.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for your fucking time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wassalam.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-7031690384465802791?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/7031690384465802791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=7031690384465802791' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/7031690384465802791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/7031690384465802791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2008/01/little-free-advice.html' title='A little free advice.'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-2724460257706047356</id><published>2007-06-30T00:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-30T00:46:32.692+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Invisible!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/-/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;a href="http://dagobah.biz/flash/Cursor_Invisible.swf"&gt;Cursor Invisible!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-2724460257706047356?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/2724460257706047356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=2724460257706047356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/2724460257706047356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/2724460257706047356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2007/06/invisible.html' title='Invisible!'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9548076.post-3422781892007178721</id><published>2007-06-19T18:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-19T19:16:16.709+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I woke up today.</title><content type='html'>The pain in my hip and back were at it again. For the past three weeks it's been vying for the spotlight in the story of my life. Two doctors told me it was a herniated disc. The pakcik I saw in Kedah said "Ini bukan pasai tulang. Ini urat hang bengkak". Whatever it is, it was bugging me again. The hot shower was doing little to take my mind off it. I increased the heat, hoping...well I don't really know what I was hoping for.  Maybe that I might confuse my head into forgetting the pain for a while. Or that the hot water might magically cure me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I realized something. Something that we tend to take for granted most of the time. I realized that I feel pain. And I thanked Allah that I did. Dead people don't feel pain. Yet we curse it. We wish we never had to feel it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shifting my focus from the pain in my back to the ends of my hand, I noticed my fingers. Ten beautiful digits. Appendages that bend and grip and stretch. We tend to not notice these things in our daily hustle and bustle, busily going about striving for that elusive 'success' that everyone seems to be hellbent on. So hellbent that we forget that most of what we do in trying to achieve this success depend so much on those ten little digits. I thank Allah for my fingers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I see my toes. I'm pretty sure standing up would be a bitch without them. I thank Allah for my toes. And my feet. My hands. My legs. My arms. My body. My head with which I can see, and hear, and talk, and think. And remember things. Yet we always seem to forget these little things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some greek guy said, "I cried because I didn't have shoes. Until I saw a man without feet".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up today. Tomorrow I hope I wake up again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-3422781892007178721?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/3422781892007178721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=3422781892007178721' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/3422781892007178721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/3422781892007178721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2007/06/i-woke-up-today.html' title='I woke up today.'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-114226824292433242</id><published>2006-03-14T00:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-14T00:46:02.753+08:00</updated><title type='text'>FRIENDSTER IS CLOSING DOWN!!!</title><content type='html'>Message: from Allen Smith&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friendster's Database is running out of space!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Friends,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems that Friendster's database is running low&lt;br /&gt;on resources. We need you to forward this to as&lt;br /&gt;many people as you can in order for us to&lt;br /&gt;determine which accounts are active. Non active&lt;br /&gt;accounts (those that do not forward this message)&lt;br /&gt;will be deleted in order to preserve space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friendster has also teamed up with Myspace.com by&lt;br /&gt;grouping our servers. Therefore, this applies to&lt;br /&gt;both sites. If you do not spread the word, your&lt;br /&gt;account will be deleted on BOTH FRIENDSTER AND&lt;br /&gt;MYSPACE. Also, Mr Allen Smith has purchased major&lt;br /&gt;stock in Malayan Banking Berhad (KLSE MAYBANK&lt;br /&gt;(1155)), and plans to incorporate Maybank2u into&lt;br /&gt;Friendster as well as converting the database for&lt;br /&gt;Friendster and Myspace. Maybank has given over&lt;br /&gt;some control of it's online banking services to Mr&lt;br /&gt;Allen Smith and he has reserved the rights to&lt;br /&gt;close down the accounts of those who do not&lt;br /&gt;forward this message!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Further, your IC and Birth Certificate will be&lt;br /&gt;deemed null and void, thus making you alienated in&lt;br /&gt;your own country!!! OMFG!!!! If you don't forward&lt;br /&gt;this to as many people as you can, you will lose&lt;br /&gt;the life you know now . Please, please please&lt;br /&gt;forward this message so that everybody will know!!!.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yours truly,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Allen Smith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Mr Allen Smith said that if you visit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.rateastranger.com"&gt;http://www.rateastranger.com&lt;/a&gt; , you will&lt;br /&gt;automatically be considered "active" and thus save&lt;br /&gt;your Friendster, Myspace and Maybank account. And&lt;br /&gt;possibly your Citibank Credit Card too. Life as&lt;br /&gt;you know it will continue peacefully while those&lt;br /&gt;of the nonbelievers will turn into a living hell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-114226824292433242?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/114226824292433242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=114226824292433242' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/114226824292433242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/114226824292433242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2006/03/friendster-is-closing-down.html' title='FRIENDSTER IS CLOSING DOWN!!!'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-113957924518353479</id><published>2006-02-10T21:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-10T21:47:25.196+08:00</updated><title type='text'>RateAStranger 's DatesForGrab Valentines Special</title><content type='html'>Have you got a date for this Valentines Day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RateAStranger.Com is Malaysian's own social platform to bring strangers together and it is launching its beta site this Valentine's Day! To celebrate this glorious event, you get to win a sponsored date with one of the delicious volunteer dates that we've got lined up for you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You just need to vote for your favourite hottie. Then.. give us a cool reason of why you should be her Valentine date!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girl with the highest vote will date the guy with the coolest reason of why he should date her!and vice versa..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To find out more, go to this link: &lt;a href="http://rateastranger.com/datesforgrab/about.php"&gt;http://rateastranger.com/datesforgrab/about.php&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-113957924518353479?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/113957924518353479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=113957924518353479' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/113957924518353479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/113957924518353479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2006/02/rateastranger-s-datesforgrab.html' title='RateAStranger &apos;s DatesForGrab Valentines Special'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9548076.post-113817980595050783</id><published>2006-01-25T16:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-25T17:05:59.830+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Verbal Assault!</title><content type='html'>I'm working at a client's site, and I get this IM message from a friend:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Rizzlar: Rizzlar bashes tamin's soft-jelly like head on the concrete pavement. Looks like little brain is oozing out of his ears!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh ho! So that's how you want it eh? Let's see how long you can last:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Tamin: tamin pulls out his bazooka and blasts Rizzlar's testicles off his scrawny ass&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Rizzlar: but when the smoke clears, tamin can see that Rizzlar is still standing firmly on the ground! Amazing! Now Rizzlar calmly takes out his remote control to his SCUD heat seeking missile and points it point blank to tamin's hairy nostrils. Ready, aim, fire!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Tamin: *click* *click* "oh no!", exclaims Rizzlar. To his dismay, the engineers forgot to arm the missile. Seizing the opportunity, Tamin dives towards Rizzlar while fishing out his razor sharp outback knife/saw and jabs it into Rizzlar's eye socket! "Take that, scum!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Tamin: Tamin then proceeds to rape the gaping hole that once housed Rizzlar's eye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Didn't last too long. But then again, maybe it wasn't really fair seeing how I raped his eye-socket so early on. How the hell is he going to beat me with only one eye? Man, I have weird friends.&lt;/span&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/9548076-113817980595050783?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/113817980595050783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=113817980595050783' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/113817980595050783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/113817980595050783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2006/01/verbal-assault.html' title='Verbal Assault!'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-113671877783780636</id><published>2006-01-08T19:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-08T19:25:15.396+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Solly, my England no powder. (Or "Is you speaking the Engrish?")</title><content type='html'>I saw this item description on e-bay. Fucking hilarious. Read it and see if you can figure out what the hell it is this guy's selling:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;MODEL NUMBER      AAR-808D       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;The honorable person to hits the movie one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; http://home.pchome.com.tw/shop/channelle46/IMGP2199.AVI&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; http://home.pchome.com.tw/shop/channelle46/IMGP2214.AVI&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; http://home.pchome.com.tw/shop/channelle46/IMGP2212.AVI&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;This is from Chinese time Bruce Lee, with Zhou Xingchi time or becoming outstanding, newest wrestle time pad,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;May use the wrestle class game to play, like the wrestle Son of Heaven,  fire shade enduring and so on the real experience gets rid of with the leg real experience oh!~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;If the picture has the introduction installment&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;This is a section super amusing computer game game, healthy body wrestle pad, so long as meets PS1,Or PS2 controls the direction on if the rocking bar, fights, the wrestle, very is really interesting!~So long as USD 49.48  were  or MYR$186.599 the  packages postal has been good !~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;The overseas friends may use paypal to pay money,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;my account number is elle12302001@hotmail.com ,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; or send cash money to  Fl,2,No.6,Lane 18,An Ping Rd.,Chung Ho City,Taipei Hsien, Taiwan  MR.YEN CHIN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;MY PHONE IS TEL= 886-2-2945-1623, OR, skype = oddity1125&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;my msnis oddity11259@hotmail.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;MY SKYPE= oddity1125&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;This is a collection entertainment, the thin body,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;builds up strength salty, the self-defense, everybody is all suitable, in addition the kind of computer game commodity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; First says from the entertainment, the former rocking bar handle about both hands about rapidly presses the gloom in your hand which may kill in the silver screen, is splendid incomparably, the adult children all happy in among, but 2 both hands are always wielding, cannot have the feeling which experiences the situation personally, has practiced  year time, also wants fate gesture gesture, you  looked puts on these four inductors to have&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;But free to hits with the television in computer game role, concurrently interest, funny, also can strengthen the body, the thin body, consumes the massive heat energies, really plays the basketball to be also more tired than, only then can have the healthy body, the thin body, the strong bodily effect oh, is a person other big gospel which wants to lose weight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;WTF? I read it twice, and still couldn't figure out what the hell it was supposed to be, but I guessed it would be something involving lots of body movement consuming "massive heat energies" that would help you get the "strong bodily effect".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Based on the images that were posted, I figure it's some sort of motion sensor getup with gloves and shoes and a mat for you to play video games with. A picture is worth a thousand words. Except maybe when the words are in Engrish.&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/9548076-113671877783780636?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/113671877783780636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=113671877783780636' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/113671877783780636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/113671877783780636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2006/01/solly-my-england-no-powder-or-is-you.html' title='Solly, my England no powder. (Or &quot;Is you speaking the Engrish?&quot;)'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-113152128043240172</id><published>2005-11-09T14:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-09T15:28:00.446+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Grow!</title><content type='html'>Salam Aidilfitri.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a while since I went back for Raya I think. It was good this time. Although Hari Raya has sort of lost the magic it used to have when I was a kid. Growing up sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom was happy I went back home this time around. I was reminded of this one thing my moms used to do when I was still living at home; she always used to give me advice, and sometimes in the form of little letters and written messages on post its, stuff like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the day of my flight back to KL, she bought me a book; Edward De Bono's How to Have a Beautiful Mind.  I never believed in self help books, but I read the book on the flight anyway. It seemed interesting enough to warrant a once over. After the first few pages, a name card dropped out of the book. It was my mom's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a bit curious as to why she would want to give me her name card. It's not like I don't know where she works. Her office phone and mobile numbers are engraved clearly in my mind. However, this wouldn't be the first time she's given me a name card, usually with some piece of advice on it. Picking up the name card I flip it over and see some writing on the back. The rounded, neatly spaced letters reminded me of the many times she'd written me, be it letter or note. You could probably scan her handwriting and make it some kind of computer font. Her handwriting is that neat. I think my handwriting was heavily influenced by hers. I don't write cursive, instead I write rounded, separate letters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what she had written on the card:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"The art of education is to continue to grow as long&lt;br /&gt;         as you live. Every moment brings its lesson. Every&lt;br /&gt;        person is a teacher. Grow in all directions. Develop&lt;br /&gt;        a desire for goodness, an eagerness for knowledge,&lt;br /&gt;        a capacity for friendship, an appreciation of beauty,&lt;br /&gt;        a concern for others. Grow! Man is never finished.&lt;br /&gt;        Man never arrives. Education never stops."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I couldn't agree more. I hope I'll be able to heed her words of advice and keep growing. Man I love my moms.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&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/9548076-113152128043240172?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/113152128043240172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=113152128043240172' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/113152128043240172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/113152128043240172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2005/11/grow.html' title='Grow!'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-112858752995512172</id><published>2005-10-06T15:33:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-06T16:32:09.963+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tags</title><content type='html'>Apparently there's this new thing going around where you 'tag' people and they answer some questions that their tagger answered when he was tagged before. I was tagged by &lt;a href="http://afigment.blogspot.com/"&gt;Taqi&lt;/a&gt;, so I guess I'm obliged to fill this up. Funny stuff this internet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seven things you plan to do before you die:&lt;br /&gt;1) Live life.&lt;br /&gt;2)            "&lt;br /&gt;3)            "&lt;br /&gt;4)            "&lt;br /&gt;5)            "&lt;br /&gt;6)            "&lt;br /&gt;7) As you can see I'm not much of a planner&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seven things I could do:&lt;br /&gt;1) I'm so hungry I could eat a horse.&lt;br /&gt;2) I could run around naked like I'm crazy, but I won't.&lt;br /&gt;3) I could stay in the office and watch House M.D., but maybe I won't.&lt;br /&gt;4) I could go back home and play video games in the next 20 minutes, maybe I will.&lt;br /&gt;5) I could be mean, but I'm not.&lt;br /&gt;6) I would if I could.&lt;br /&gt;7) I could have &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;no&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; filled up this tag questionnaire thing, but I chose to anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seven celebrity crushes:&lt;br /&gt;1) Paula Malai Ali&lt;br /&gt;2) Tobi from Public Flash&lt;br /&gt;3) Tracy from COHF&lt;br /&gt;4) Celeste&lt;br /&gt;5) Aria Giovanni&lt;br /&gt;6) Rikki from COHF&lt;br /&gt;7) Gabby from COHF&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seven often repeated words:&lt;br /&gt;1) Dude&lt;br /&gt;2) Fuck&lt;br /&gt;3) Shit&lt;br /&gt;4) Damn&lt;br /&gt;5) I&lt;br /&gt;6) Don't&lt;br /&gt;7) Know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seven physical traits I look for in the opposite sex :&lt;br /&gt;1) Face&lt;br /&gt;2) Ass&lt;br /&gt;3) Legs&lt;br /&gt;4) Tits&lt;br /&gt;5) Ass&lt;br /&gt;6) Tits&lt;br /&gt;7) Ass&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seven tags go to:&lt;br /&gt;1) &lt;a href="http://iniblognaiza.blogspot.com/"&gt;joe&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) &lt;a href="http://iceroll.fotopages.com/"&gt;jack&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) &lt;a href="http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/"&gt;jimmy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4)&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt; john&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://suff.smsaholics.com/bloggy/"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) &lt;a href="http://dipdudu.blogspot.com/"&gt;jason&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) &lt;a href="http://pydd.multiply.com/"&gt;jude&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) Mansor&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-112858752995512172?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/112858752995512172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=112858752995512172' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/112858752995512172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/112858752995512172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2005/10/tags.html' title='Tags'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-112360380800379576</id><published>2005-08-09T23:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-10T00:11:16.846+08:00</updated><title type='text'>“Berani mati tak mati, berani kalah tak kalah”, Harimau Kumbang of Raja Rimba</title><content type='html'>I was reading &lt;a href="http://pydd.multiply.com/"&gt;Pydd&lt;/a&gt;'s multiply journal, and found that quote from a Hong Kong comic book in one of her entries. I always found the quotes they used in Hong Kong comic books to be quite amusing, and at times quite wise (at least the ones that were translated in BM, since I can't read Chinese).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if any of you know of any good 'Honkie Comic Quotes' or references. I remember a few I think:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bila keranda diusung, baru bercucuran air mata"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Kail panjang sejengkal, lautan dalam jangan diduga"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lebih kuat/dalam/tinggi/(insert adjective here) dari 7 petala langit dan 7 petala bumi" (It would also seem that every Hero's super secret killer move has to have something to do with 7 petala langit and 7 petala bumi).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Add more in the comments if you know any. It'd be interesting to see what other quotes you might have found memorable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-112360380800379576?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/112360380800379576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=112360380800379576' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/112360380800379576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/112360380800379576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2005/08/berani-mati-tak-mati-berani-kalah-tak.html' title='“Berani mati tak mati, berani kalah tak kalah”, Harimau Kumbang of Raja Rimba'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-112259203296359199</id><published>2005-07-29T06:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-01T00:32:57.423+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tech me!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;We were at our project site, doing some upgrading or some shit. Been here since 10 last night. The upgrade went ok. I couldn't get my SQL shit to cooperate with me though, and I got bored. So I fire up mIRC. It's been so long since I last used this thing, so I go and register me a nickname (I didn't register the name "me" though. That's just, you know, so you don't come and screw me over if you see me online. Or whatever). So I'm hanging out at a few channels. Trying to get some young chicks and such, but all I see are horny old men with ludicrous nicks like "AbgNakTuh" and "AbgKotePanjangMacamKuda". And also some gay fuckers like "SpeNderlakiMInatBoXerLaKi24 ". I kid you not, that was an actual nick I saw in #klsex.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Anyway, so I'm hanging out, in #klsex and a couple other channels as well (i do hang out in other more education channels too you know). Then this guy PMs me. Here's how the conversation goes. Starting exactly like this:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;font&gt;"Yes, that's 6:03 &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AM&lt;/span&gt;. I haven't slept for nearly 20 hours now"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;[06:03] &lt;/span&gt;&lt;jorbut style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; tech me how&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;"tech me". Almost sounds kinky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[06:03] me: tech you what?&lt;br /&gt;[06:04] jorbut: to get a root&lt;br /&gt;[06:04] jorbut: could you ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ooo...a h4&gt;&lt;0r&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[06:06] me: well, you get a box&lt;br /&gt;[06:06] me: install linux on it&lt;br /&gt;[06:06] me: right?&lt;br /&gt;[06:07] jorbut: ok&lt;br /&gt;[06:07] me: and at the part where it prompts you for a root password, enter your password of choice&lt;br /&gt;[06:07] me: et voila!&lt;br /&gt;[06:07] me: you've got root on your very own box!&lt;br /&gt;[06:07] me: you pwn it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;font&gt;This actually works, I just pwned a server (Dell PowerEdge 1800) using this very method a couple days ago.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;[06:08] jorbut: wait&lt;br /&gt;[06:08] jorbut: i install a linux on a pc&lt;br /&gt;[06:08] jorbut: and the login as a user&lt;br /&gt;[06:08] jorbut: and the su&lt;br /&gt;[06:08] jorbut: and then what password i shuld type on it ?&lt;br /&gt;[06:13] me: well&lt;br /&gt;[06:13] jorbut: ?&lt;br /&gt;[06:13] me: you type in the password that you entered at the root password prompt during the install&lt;br /&gt;[06:13] jorbut: ic&lt;br /&gt;[06:13] jorbut: i mean&lt;br /&gt;[06:13] jorbut: if a register on a shell hosting&lt;br /&gt;[06:13] jorbut: can i got root passwd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;font&gt;Poor kid. Can't spell to save his life and he wants to hack a *nix box&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;[06:14] me: i guess you could&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;[06:15] jorbut: how&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;[06:15] me: if you were the administrator&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;[06:15] me: or if you knew the administrator&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;[06:15] jorbut: yes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;[06:15] jorbut: if i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;[06:15] jorbut: but its not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;font&gt;Let's see how clueless this guy is&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;[06:15] me: oh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;[06:15] me: you'd probably have to do stuff&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;[06:15] me: like voodoo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;[06:15] me: you ever heard of voodoo?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;[06:16] jorbut: never&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;[06:16] jorbut: tell me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-style: italic;"&gt;Seems like he's really buying this crock of shit. Either that, or &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;HE's&lt;/span&gt; playing&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;around with &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;. We'll see.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;[06:16] me: you see, voodoo is some really complicated computer systems stuff that you do to get your computer to do things for you&lt;br /&gt;[06:17] me: I'm not sure that you're ready for that level of programming/hacking yet&lt;br /&gt;[06:17] jorbut: not yet&lt;br /&gt;[06:17] me: unfortunately, no&lt;br /&gt;[06:18] jorbut: or&lt;br /&gt;[06:18] jorbut: can you give me some file that can i executed to get a root acces&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-style: italic;"&gt;Ahah! As I suspected! A script kiddie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;[06:22] me: ok&lt;br /&gt;[06:22] me: try this one&lt;br /&gt;[06:22] me: www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/you.html&lt;br /&gt;[06:22] me: or this one&lt;br /&gt;[06:22] me: www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/youare.swf&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-style: italic;"&gt;You might not want to open this up in Internet Explorer. Except maybe if you have some kind of popup blocker. But then again, I never actually tested that. Your call.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;[06:23] jorbut: wait&lt;br /&gt;[06:23] jorbut: fck&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-style: italic;"&gt;ROTFLMAO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;[06:24] me: what up?&lt;br /&gt;[06:25] me: doesn't that site have the programs that you want?&lt;br /&gt;[06:25] jorbut: you know man&lt;br /&gt;[06:26] jorbut: you think youare great if some one ask you and your asn not muach help&lt;br /&gt;[06:26] jorbut: i dont think so&lt;br /&gt;[06:26] jorbut: i think its looser can ans any ques...&lt;br /&gt;[06:26] me: ? what?&lt;br /&gt;[06:27] me: are you insulting me, d00d?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-style: italic;"&gt;Really, I don't even know what he's trying to say, which is why i try to clarify by asking him. Don't want to anger a l33t h4&gt;&lt;0r&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;font&gt;[06:27] me: you asked me for a file to run, i gave you one&lt;br /&gt;[06:27] jorbut: if you tink so&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-style: italic;"&gt;Seems he's not insulting me after all&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;[06:28] me: :)&lt;br /&gt;[06:28] me: i'm glad i could help out&lt;br /&gt;[06:28] jorbut: thanks mean you are a looser do you&lt;br /&gt;[06:28] jorbut: :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-style: italic;"&gt;Or is he?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;[06:29] me: i don't even understand what that means, my friend&lt;br /&gt;[06:29] jorbut: well done dud&lt;br /&gt;[06:29] jorbut: bye&lt;br /&gt;[06:31] me: pleasure's all mine&lt;br /&gt;[06:31] me: bye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-style: italic;"&gt;End&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-style: italic;"&gt;Aah. It's always nice to know that you were able to help someone in need. :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-style: italic;"&gt;Update 4:53 PM. Man I must've been pretty fucked up this morning. I didn't even notice the post got screwed up. I just fixed it so you can see it the way I intended it to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/jorbut&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-112259203296359199?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/112259203296359199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=112259203296359199' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/112259203296359199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/112259203296359199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2005/07/tech-me.html' title='Tech me!'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-112074445920259287</id><published>2005-07-07T21:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-07T21:54:19.206+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I need new friends.</title><content type='html'>Friend : so i have to dload mySQL and the analyzer izzit?&lt;br /&gt;Friend : i can't quite think straight rite now&lt;br /&gt;Me : i think you can just download the query browser je kot&lt;br /&gt;Me : if you already have mysql la&lt;br /&gt;Friend : hoo..ok&lt;br /&gt;Friend : hmm..&lt;br /&gt;Friend : can i ask u another silly q?&lt;br /&gt;Me : sure&lt;br /&gt;Friend : The install package uses Windows Installer, which is built in to Microsoft Windows XP, and more recent Microsoft Windows versions. You can also download the install runtime for Windows NT 4.0 and 2000&lt;br /&gt;Friend : so does it mean that i already have the ting or not?&lt;br /&gt;Friend : as i am using windows xp&lt;br /&gt;Friend : ?&lt;br /&gt;Me : yep&lt;br /&gt;Me : you already have that&lt;br /&gt;Friend : hmm..&lt;br /&gt;Friend : ?&lt;br /&gt;Friend : have to ask mr google la nih&lt;br /&gt;Friend : ?&lt;br /&gt;Me : you already have the windows installer&lt;br /&gt;Friend : yeah...but the query ?&lt;br /&gt;Me : you have to download and install that&lt;br /&gt;Friend : huh?&lt;br /&gt;Friend : tak paham..&lt;br /&gt;Friend : why do they say using windows installer?&lt;br /&gt;Friend : hoo..i get it..&lt;br /&gt;Friend : after seeing the installer&lt;br /&gt;Friend :&lt;br /&gt;Me : ...&lt;br /&gt;Friend : silence is gold&lt;br /&gt;Me : damn nigger i was about to remove you from my fucking buddy list because of that&lt;br /&gt;Friend : cuz wut?&lt;br /&gt;Me : your dumbass question&lt;br /&gt;Friend :&lt;br /&gt;Friend : no laa..&lt;br /&gt;Me : siap buat aku pun confuse&lt;br /&gt;Friend : i thought windows installer means the installer for windows....&lt;br /&gt;Friend : i thought the query analyzer is alredy in my pc&lt;br /&gt;Me : ...&lt;br /&gt;Me : I need to find new friends...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-112074445920259287?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/112074445920259287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=112074445920259287' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/112074445920259287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/112074445920259287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2005/07/i-need-new-friends.html' title='I need new friends.'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-111821455443454816</id><published>2005-06-08T15:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-08T15:09:14.456+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Slackware Linux Walk-through (Start to Finish)</title><content type='html'>This is one of the most helpful Slackware Linux sites I've found. This guy has documented everything from partitioning, to getting your scroll wheel working. Not to mention getting Slack to boot straight into X.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;a href="http://shilo.is-a-geek.com/slack/"&gt;read more&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;|&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://digg.com/linux_unix/Slackware_Linux_Walk-through_(Start_to_Finish)"&gt;digg story&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-111821455443454816?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/111821455443454816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=111821455443454816' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/111821455443454816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/111821455443454816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2005/06/slackware-linux-walk-through-start-to.html' title='Slackware Linux Walk-through (Start to Finish)'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-111462356573816184</id><published>2005-04-28T01:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-28T01:39:39.816+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Han Solo in Carbonite - LEGO version</title><content type='html'>I was reading digg.com and saw this &lt;a href="http://www.nathanbrickartist.com/han_solo_in_carbonite.html"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt; to an almost life-size model of Han Solo in Carbonite, made of LEGO bricks. I thought I'd add this link since my last post was about LEGO.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-111462356573816184?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/111462356573816184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=111462356573816184' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/111462356573816184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/111462356573816184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2005/04/han-solo-in-carbonite-lego-version.html' title='Han Solo in Carbonite - LEGO version'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-111460121718535469</id><published>2005-04-28T00:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-28T00:48:31.483+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't wanna grow up</title><content type='html'>A buddy's latest &lt;a href="http://suff.smsaholics.com/index.php?p=40"&gt;post&lt;/a&gt; mentioned "When you are thinking, be childish", and that reminded me about something that happened about a year ago. A couple of friends (from a company i recently left for various reasons) and I were at Midvalley Megamall, I think, to catch a movie, if I remember correctly. Whatever it was we were at some mall, for some reason or other, and we were walking around (probably waiting for the movie, or maybe we'd already finished the movie and were going to get something to eat). In any case we were walking around and we'd come upon this LEGO display/exhibition thing. It'd been a while since any of us played around with LEGOs  so we went to have a look, maybe see what new theme they'd come up with lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a lot of stuff and some neat scenes they had built with LEGO blocks and all. And in the middle of it all, were something like 4 tables just about the right height for an 8 or 9 year old. Scattered on the tables were LEGO blocks just waiting for curious,  imaginative minds to pick them up and turn them into spaceships or firetrucks. Those colourful, little blocks held stories of bank robberies and police car chases, of wild wild west sunset showdowns and intergalactic planetary invasions. All they needed were the right story tellers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends and I thought it'd be fun to play around a bit so we went up to one of the tables. Walking up to a table full of LEGO blocks, we looked around; noticed nobody seemed to mind and started thinking about what we could build. We thought and we thought and we thought. While we were thinking of something cool to create, this kid, probably about 7 or 8, walks up to a table next to ours and just starts putting blocks together. I was still fiddling with some blocks in my hand, but my attention was now mostly on the kid next to us. He seemed oblivious to everything going on outside the table, intent solely on this creative pursuit. The kid kept on stacking the blocks one after another, using whatever was on the table.  There were no "Oh, there aren't any square blocks left" or "I wish I had a little swiveling block" from this kid. It seemed like all he ever needed was right there on the table, as if someone had planned for this kid to come over and build what he was building and had thus prepared all the blocks expressly for that purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally the kid stopped adding blocks, stepped back and admired his masterpiece for a moment, then left to go back to his mother. We looked at his end product. To me it seemed like some kind of tower. It wasn't built with any kind of right proportions or dimensions in mind, no specific colour scheme, it didn't even seem to have any rooms or functionality. But the kid had seemed content with his accomplishment. And there we were; 4 University graduates, a table full of LEGO blocks, and nothing to show for it. Sure, &lt;a href="http://wahlah.blogspot.com/"&gt;Heron&lt;/a&gt; made a PS2 logo right after that, but it's just not the same.  We thought too much about how we could impress each other (at least that's what &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;was thinking) that eventually we didn't get to build anything. The kid? He didn't have to impress anyone. He didn't worry about what it would look like to other people or if people would comment on it. He just did what he felt like doing. He was letting his mind be creative. And he was satisfied. How many times have we done that? Just do things that &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;we&lt;/span&gt; want now that we're all grown up and working?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think work is slowly taking my inner child away from me. I was just chatting with &lt;a href="http://afigment.blogspot.com/"&gt;Taqi&lt;/a&gt; earlier tonight, and I told him that I think I've lost my sense of wonder and "Hey, that's kewl stuff". I noticed that recently I haven't been doing a lot of the neat stuff I used to love doing.  Like my &lt;a href="http://suff.smsaholics.com"&gt;buddy&lt;/a&gt;, I think if this keeps up, I'll become the guy I never wanted to be. Both of us have been pretty busy lately, we haven't had time to do any kewl stuff. Hopefully this is just because we're getting used to our new jobs/responsibilities. Maybe after a while we'll work some time out for ourselves. I certainly hope so, because if this is what being an adult is all about, then I don't ever wanna grow up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-111460121718535469?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/111460121718535469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=111460121718535469' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/111460121718535469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/111460121718535469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2005/04/i-dont-wanna-grow-up.html' title='I don&apos;t wanna grow up'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-111168368294472225</id><published>2005-03-25T00:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T12:35:03.964+08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's just a job</title><content type='html'>Was reading &lt;a href="http://afigment.blogspot.com/"&gt;taqi's&lt;/a&gt; post today. Kinda weird innit? But I guess we were right to worry during university, because that degree would eventually shape our future. But then again, I know at least one guy who didn't finish his degree, and he seems to be doing great. A lot of successful people don't have degrees. A lot of them never even went through secondary school. And people say that your degree is useful only for your first job anyway (most of the time at least). So I don't know. Maybe at that time, it seemed like if we didn't get a degree, we'd be fucked for life. Anyway, I always say 'It's just a job'. It's not like it's the end of the world.Your life shouldn't be about your job. Your job is supposed to revolve around your life. It's supposed to help you get money and shit so you can live your life. If work starts eating into your personal time and space, you might want to start thinking about another job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also on the subject of work, I once had a discussion with another &lt;a href="http://suff.smsaholics.com/"&gt;buddy&lt;/a&gt; about whether one should get a job that's also their hobby. You know, like if programming is your hobby, then would you want a job as a programmer? There was a discussion about this on &lt;a href="http://ask.slashdot.org/article.pl?sid=04/07/30/2311222&amp;amp;tid=156&amp;amp;tid=4"&gt;Slashdot&lt;/a&gt; a while back. Me, I think it'd be a matter of time before your 'job/hobby' turns into 'merely another chore'. I think it'd be better to get a hobby that is different from your work. Or maybe get a job that is a bit different than your hobby. However, I wouldn't want a job that I know outright is boring or tedious simply because it isn't my hobby. You still want your work to be enjoyable, but be able to come home and do something else to take your mind off work. But that's just my opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;pre&gt;Work&lt;br /&gt;\Work\ (w[^u]rk), n. :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; An occasional side effect of having a job.&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-111168368294472225?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/111168368294472225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=111168368294472225' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/111168368294472225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/111168368294472225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2005/03/its-just-job.html' title='It&apos;s just a job'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9548076.post-111091015154237654</id><published>2005-03-16T00:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-16T15:29:27.583+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Baaaad mojo.</title><content type='html'>There's this McD I frequent often. I just love having my DoubleCheese and Sprite before I get on the LRT back home (if I'm not hitching a ride with Akak - Akak is a colleague of mine, she's like our big sister at the office) or back to my Aunt's place. A couple of months ago, my Aunt asked me to sleep over at her house, since Imran (that's her kid) would be home alone, seeing as everyone would be someplace else. And my &lt;a href="http://suff.smsaholics.com/"&gt;buddy&lt;/a&gt; and I happened to have some night class during that month somewhere near my Aunt's place. So for about a month I'm travelling to her house after work, and on the way I stop by that McD's to get my dose of Double Cheese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm at that McD's 'most every other day, and I'm doing my thing, being friendly to the people there and shit, right? At one point, they start asking me my name, where I'm from, you know, getting to know me kinda thing, see?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I notice this one girl, I'll call her Farrah, since that was the name I noticed on her name tag. She's really pretty looking, beautiful dark brown round eyes, silky smooth and fair skin,lovely full lips, tall, and she's sweet, and very friendly. And she's got the sweetest smile, perfect pearly whites far as I can tell. So we talk a bit. Just small talk, you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've been going there for more about a month, on and off, then I stop going for about a month and a half. My class trainer was overseas, so class was cancelled for a while. So it's been a month and a half, and I happen to go to that McD again. The moment I step through the doors, there's that girl again, going "Hi Fadhil!" and waving at me and I'm all "Oh, shit, I can't even remember her name". So I saunter over to the counter. There's three counters, the left and right ones have people queueing up, and the middle one is closed, right? So I'm waiting behind the lady in the left queue, while eyeing the other queue so I can dart into whichever counter is vacant first. While I'm waiting, I see the girl heading towards the middle counter. I peek at her name tag again. Farrah. I told myself I'll never forget that name again. Farrah. What a lovely name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Farrah is at the middle counter, and she asks me "What will you have, Fadhil?". So I ask for my regular; Double Cheese and a Sprite. I reach back for my wallet, and she says "No, no. It's ok. This one's on me". Wow. I was taken aback. "Are you sure?". Farrah says it's okay. She flashes me a smile. I thank her. Then I make a little joke "Next time it's on me, eh?". The smile again. And I head downstairs to enjoy my heart disease in the making.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I dig in to my free burger, I'm thinking "Gee, that was awfully nice of her". Then a thought that only a man can think crossed my mind, "could she be interested in me?". Well she was being really nice to me. She did remember my name after nearly a month after seeing me there. And it's not like I'm the only guy at a McD. These are people who have served &lt;a href="http://www.hoovers.com/mcdonald%27s-corporation/--ID__10974--/free-co-factsheet.xhtml"&gt;billions&lt;/a&gt; of burgers worldwide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So while I'm thinking this, I figure I got a good excuse to ask her out, since &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;technically&lt;/span&gt; she treated me to dinner that day. I devise my plan. I planned to come over again the following week, and tell her exactly that. I'm gonna say that since she basically already treated me to a meal, I'd like to treat her to lunch. Hopefully find out more about her in the process. Pleased with myself, I finish my meal (oh how great food tastes when it's free) and head home (I was supposed to have class, but it was cancelled because the trainer wasn't feeling to well. It didn't matter, because I was too elated, my head was in the clouds thinking about Farrah).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day on the way to work I tell Akak about it, and ask her what she makes of it. She tells me I shouldn't be too carried away. Akak said that she might've done that as a form of marketing. She might be right. She says I shouldn't be expecting too much, and to be cautious about the whole thing, lest I be left heartbroken. I agreed with her. But I guess I was adamant. "By this time next week, I'll ask her out" I say to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the next week (this was last week), I went to that Micky Dee's twice. Once she wasn't there, and the other time she was having some sort of meeting with the managers or something. She waved at me, I waved at her, but that was about it. I didn't want to interrupt her with the other managers. It would've been rude. No matter. I'm a patient man. I've waited 24 years to have a relationship, what's another week?.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, my &lt;a href="http://suff.smsaholics.com/"&gt;buddy&lt;/a&gt; calls up our trainer, and he says we got class today at 8. Yeay! I can go to McD again today. Today'll be the day I ask her out. I'm getting giddy and excited with the prospect of a date with Farrah. (FYI, if this worked out, it'd be my third date in 24 years). Akak's words recurred in my mind though. I realized that it might not work out the way I want it to. But fuck it. If I don't do it now, I never will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm at the counter again, some girl is getting my order; Double Cheese and a Sprite. Farrah sees me. She walks over and while the other girl is getting my meal, we make some small talk. "How're you?". "I"m fine, and you?". She's asking me about work and stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she asks me for my number. Wow you say? You wanna know &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;why&lt;/span&gt; she wants my number? She wanted my number, because she wanted to invite me to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;her wedding&lt;/span&gt; in June! Fuck me. Now my mind is reeling. Reality spinning out of control. I hadn't prepared for this! This wasn't supposed to happen! I was expecting I'd ask her out, and she'd say "Hmmm, I'll have to think about it". Here she is telling me she's getting married in 3 months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Irony is when the chick at McDonald's you wanted to ask out on a date asks you for your number so she can invite you to her wedding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I play surprised and excited for her. "Wow, that's great! Who's the lucky guy? Sure I'll come, just give me a call". I write down my number on a piece of paper she gave me. I pay for my meal, and head downstairs. My hands are shaking. I know I shouldn't be feeling this way, I've only ever met her over the counter at McD, but I'm devastated. I sms Akak, tell her about it. I guess I should've listened to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier tonight, I was chatting with &lt;a href="http://afigment.blogspot.com/"&gt;Taqi&lt;/a&gt;, told him about it too. That's when I realize that this isn't the first time this sort of thing happened to me. There was this girl in University that I used to talk to. We only got to know each other in her 3rd year I think. She was really really nice. Soft spoken, tall, and smart, sweet, the works. I always wanted to just tell her that I sorta liked her, but everytime I went up to her to talk, it'd be something like "Hi! How was class? How're you? How's your family? Oh yeah? That's nice. Ok. Bye!". Every fucking time. A little over a year later, at our graduation, I decide to tell her, right? The whole ceremony is over, people are congratulating each other, parents bragging about their kids to other parents. And I see her. I'm about to approach her. To tell her, finally, how I feel. But I see she's with her mother. I think "Maybe I'll wait till tonight. At the convo fair. I'll tell her then. For real".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night, at the fair, I see one of her &lt;a href="http://pydd.multiply.com/"&gt;friends&lt;/a&gt; (her friend knows I like her. She even told me many time before to just go out and tell her. But I never did). So I tell her "I'm going to tell her tonight". Then she's all "err....oh no, I thought you knew".&lt;br /&gt;I ask her "What?".&lt;br /&gt;She says "She's getting engaged tomorrow".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like someone threw a hex on my ass. Like I've got bad mojo with women or something. I fall in love too fast. And then find out they're getting married tomorrow. The next time this kind of shit happens, I'm gonna go mandi bunga.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was listening to &lt;a href="http://www.defconradio.com/"&gt;DEFCON Radio&lt;/a&gt; yesterday, and there was this stand up comic act. He was talking about how he has plenty of girlfriends. Not "girlfriends", but friends who happen to be women. He says they always say "You're so sweet and nice. I wish I had a boyfriend just like you, but not you". That's what I feel like right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told my friends and cousins about it. They told me don't worry, somebody will come my way. I suppose they're right. I guess you don't always get what you want when you want it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In our IM session, &lt;a href="http://afigment.blogspot.com/"&gt;Taqi&lt;/a&gt; and I were talking about how Malaysians aren't really all that big on the love thing. It doesn't work like in the movies, he said, where you can just go up to a girl and tell her you love her and everybody will be supportive about it. You'd have to make the rounds, the parents, aunts, uncles, cousins. If everyone gives you the thumbs up, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;then&lt;/span&gt; you get things working. Otherwise, you find someone else who fits your family's expectations. If she fits, you'll probably end up marrying her, even if you don't really love her that much at the time. I guess this way, we'd &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;try&lt;/span&gt; to make it work out, to keep the rest of the family happy. Or something like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lost of people find love after marriage.&lt;br /&gt;But only a few find marriage after love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And today, my love found marriage. It's just that it's not me she's getting married to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-111091015154237654?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/111091015154237654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=111091015154237654' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/111091015154237654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/111091015154237654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2005/03/baaaad-mojo.html' title='Baaaad mojo.'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-110992125583188340</id><published>2005-03-04T15:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-04T15:27:35.833+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shit happens</title><content type='html'>It did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-110992125583188340?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/110992125583188340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=110992125583188340' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/110992125583188340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/110992125583188340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2005/03/shit-happens.html' title='Shit happens'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-110812775631397224</id><published>2005-02-11T20:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-11T21:15:56.316+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I think too much</title><content type='html'>Following is an excerpt of a recent IM session I had with a buddy of mine. I thought it was pretty funny, and at the same time pretty deep and profound. Have a read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: better get ready to rm -rf your laptops&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: uhh....&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: you won't believe this&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: i installed xp on my laptop for the time bein&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: since a lot of the tools are for windows&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: well good for you!&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: it felt a bit icky going through that part where the xp installer asked to remove "unknown" partitions on my drive&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: ahh..&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: good ol' windows&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: felt like i was raping my laptop&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: no dude, you're just wathing bill gates rape your pc&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: you're as innocent as an innocent bystander&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: i'll be glad once this training thing is done and i get my certificate&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: why?&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: i thought its the journey that matters&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: i'll be able to purge my laptop of this devil spawn of an os&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: or at the very least make it a dual boot machine&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: 'sides&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: i didn't pay for this copy of windows&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: so i feel that i don't have the right to use it&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: i'll use it if i paid for it&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: evil begets evil my friend&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: and paid for the support&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: windows is good...but piracy is baaaad&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: four legs goooood&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: two legs...baaaaaad&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: hmm... and in the end, the pigs becomes humans?&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: yep&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: and play poker&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: i loved that cartoon&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: ok now.. think about this..&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: the new windows will be called longhorn, and the mascot is a four-legged bull... and linux is always with the two legged tux&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: hmm...&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: you don't say?&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: i didn't know they had a bull as a mascot&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: i thot longhorn is a bull&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: you know?&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: the thong logo that you saw in yan's blog&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: hmm...i do recall you pointing me to a site&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: yeah that's the one&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: thats a bull right?&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: egad!&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: i think you're right&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: its linux all along!&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: but&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: windows is the victim&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: linux is only the kernel&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: a small part of it&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: the rest of it is GNU&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: GNUs have four legs&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: how's that work into the equation?&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: ouh yeah&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: we've got a problem here.....two legs working with four legs, trying to beat other four legs...&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: i think we think too much&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: you think?&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: i do&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: you think, therefore youare&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: i think I think too much, at least&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: you know what&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: just the other day jumy asked me "why don't we like java again?"&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: and i said that C is more straightforward&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: and that C is faster since it doesn't have to run on "virtual machines"&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: and that C is closer to the machine than java is&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: then i thought about it&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: and i came to the conclusion that I don't know if I do or don't  like java,&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: simply because i've never coded in it extensively&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: hmm true&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: so i guess the same goes for OSes&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: or movies&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: i don't like any languages that i dont know&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: i keep saying i don't like titanic&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: but i haven't watched it&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: i say I'm open to new ideas&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: but i close my mind to the experience of titanic&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: and java&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: are you going to somehow twist this whole thing to accuse me of not experiancing linux?&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: no no&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: i'm just saying that&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: maybe we should be more open to stuff&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: why diss windows?&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: why diss linux?&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: why diss anything even?&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: hmm like gay sex and being submissive?&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: ok i take that back&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: gay sex is just&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: so gay&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: which makes it suck&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: we should be open to anything except gay shit&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: like gay sex&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: and titanic and java&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: hey!&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: i think i solved the problem&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: hmm yups, titanic is a gay flick&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: and java is a gay language&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: agreed!&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: long live C and C++!&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: long live c++&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: !&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: the titanic sank, screw java&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: aah...it's always nice to be able to talk to a friend.&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: yeah dude&lt;br /&gt;t_a_q_i: i need you to teach me again how to read music notes&lt;br /&gt;taymenc: sure thing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i guess sometimes no matter how "open" you say you are, how willing you are to try new experiences, there are some things you won't do, some places you just won't go. Which must be a good thing, otherwise we'd have too many gay java programmers watching sappy movies with sinking ships, no?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-110812775631397224?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/110812775631397224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=110812775631397224' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/110812775631397224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/110812775631397224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2005/02/i-think-too-much.html' title='I think too much'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9548076.post-110558204635636757</id><published>2005-01-13T09:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-01-13T10:07:26.356+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Success is a journey</title><content type='html'>A friend of mine, iceroll i shall name him, for that is what he is called in the land of bits and bytes, used to always tell me whenever I seemed in a hurry "apa yang ko dapat kalau takat kejar beberapa saat?" (loosely translated, it would sound something like this: "why the rush? what do you hope to achieve with the few seconds you gain?". I'd always agree and think "he's right" and slow down, and take my time. It may sound like laziness or procrastination, but today, at the Masjid Jamek Putra/Star interchange, I think I saw something that put real meaning to his advice.&lt;br /&gt;There I was, just got off of the Putra LRT, heading for the escalator upwards to get to the STAR LRT station. I stick to the left side of the escalator, because that's where you're supposed to stand to allow people who are in a rush to pass by on the right. So I'm observing these people, all oblivious to what's going on around them, focused instead on blazing up the escalator and seemingly intent on making it on time for a train they don't even know is there yet.  Maybe that's what the rat race is; scurrying about trying to make it in time for some business meeting or whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm just taking my own sweet time, watching these people some of whom are starting to sweat from all the running around.  It's only 8.30 and already they're sweating. I'm already late (work starts at 8.30) but I don't fret it. The worst that can happen is that the bosses see me as inefficient and tardy that they'll fire me. It's not like it's the end of the world as we know it. So as I step off the escalator, I light up a cigarrette and head to the STAR LRT station (it's only a few steps away, but I figure I'll walk slowly so I can finish up half the ciggie).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cancer stick is halfway through, so I throw it away and go straight for the ticket counter, get myself a ticket, and start another excalator trip up to the STAR platform.  When I get to the top, lo and behold! it's the very same people who ran past me on the escalator in the Putra station, waiting for the very same train that I was gonna be waiting for. Now, why were they running again in the first place? Oh yeah, so they could get to the train in time. But wait, I'm here, I seem to be in time for the train? What gives? Amusing isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I've seen this more than once with people driving cars. You know, you're driving and there's this guy in front of you doing something like 90 maybe 100 km/h and you think "damn, this motherfucker is sooooo slow. I'm gonna just overtake him and get where I want to go faster." So you do. You get on the fast lane and speed up, leaving said motherfucker in the dust. But a couple kilometres down the road, there's a traffic light that turns red. So you slow down and stop. You're waiting for the light to turn green and you notice something in your rearview mirror. It's that slow motherfucker. He's just taking his time, and just as he draws nearer to you, the light turns green, and the motherfucker doesn't even have to stop. You're just getting into first gear, and this motherfucker is alread ahead of you. Makes you think doesn't it. I bet it's happened to you a couple of times too, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the lesson is that maybe we shouldn't be in a hurry all the time. Take your time, soak in life. Enjoy it.  &lt;a href="http://despair.com/laziness.html"&gt;Success is a journey, not a destination. So stop running. &lt;/a&gt;Don't go chasing trains you don't even know are there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-110558204635636757?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/110558204635636757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=110558204635636757' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/110558204635636757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/110558204635636757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2005/01/success-is-journey.html' title='Success is a journey'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9548076.post-110550239236498587</id><published>2005-01-12T09:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-01-12T11:59:52.363+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Karma Chameleon</title><content type='html'>I'm a shapeshifter. A chameleon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend noticed me looking at a reflection of his monitor today.  I was checking out his screen, seeing what he was up to.  I've been doing that for a while, just a quick glance at the reflection, see what's going on. Today; busted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was thinking about that, my stealing glances at his monitor. I wondered to myself why I did that. For some people it might be just curiosity. As for myself, I think there's a few other ingredients mixed in there. At first I figured it's because I'm a chameleon, checking out what my colleague is doing and do that; if he's working, then I should work, if he slacks off, I slack off. A karma chameleon, changing my mood and personality  according to the mood and characteristics of the people around me. I've been a karma chameleon for as long as I can remember. Even my friends notice that I can be different people around different crowds.  They've even said to me "We don't know you. We don't really know who you are. Who &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;are&lt;/span&gt; you?".  I don't know really. Maybe I'm &lt;a href="http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2004/12/just-be-yourself.html"&gt;just being myself&lt;/a&gt;, but we all know that's like saying a cat is being feline; that's what it's &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;supposed&lt;/span&gt; to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thing is, as I'm writing this thing, I start to wonder, is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; really the reason why I was doing it? Because I'm trying to assess the overall atmosphere and adapt my lazy ass to it? I suppose that might be part of the reason, since that is after all human nature, or at least that's what &lt;a href="http://www.wsu.edu:8080/%7Etaflinge/imitate.html"&gt;this doctor&lt;/a&gt; thinks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I care too much about what people will think about me, about whether they may see my actions as fit or acceptable. I care too much that people should accept me into their lives that I forget to live mine.  Or do I? Abrupt end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-110550239236498587?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/110550239236498587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=110550239236498587' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/110550239236498587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/110550239236498587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2005/01/karma-chameleon.html' title='Karma Chameleon'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-110448742069987631</id><published>2004-12-31T15:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-12-31T18:29:38.563+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just be yourself</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Ever have someone tell you to "be yourself"? Ever wondered what that means; "being yourself"? I know I have. I've thought about it, and thought about it some more. And the conclusion I can come up with regarding that phrase is that it's utter bullshit. How do you "be yourself"? Come to think of it; who are you really?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think really hard about all the relationships you have or had; those with your parents, your buddies in school, your college buddies, your colleagues, your boss, your teachers, kids, strangers in the park, your neighbors. Think about them real hard and then try to differentiate the myriad 'you's you've been in those various relationships. The shit you talk about with your friends rarely, if ever, come up in conversations with your parents. To your grandparents you're sweet little children, but hit the park with your college mates and you turn into sex craved monsters, whistling at anything in a skirt that walks past. 'Fucker' and 'Asshole' are words you might use on your childhood buddy, but nary a curse is to be heard when you're with your girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I'm trying to say is that in all those cases, you are 'you'. And if you suddenly do a 180 and start cursing at your parents, choose to be quiet and reserved where you would usually be raising hell, start being nice to the guy who used to bully you in school; you're still 'you'. Just that you've decided to change the 'you' that you are. Nobody can tell you to 'be yourself', simply because you already are 'yourself'. You just can't be anymore 'yourself' than you already are. I'm not sure I can explain it in a clearer way. Maybe this'll help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John: Hey Bob, there's that girl I like.  What do I say? What do I do?&lt;br /&gt;Bob: Just be yourself, John.&lt;br /&gt;John: What the fuck Bob!? I am 'myself' and 'myself' doesn't know what the fuck to say. Which is why I'm asking you. Dumbass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I reread this entire post, and now I'm not sure I'm even making sense.&lt;br /&gt;But the point is this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We should all just stop saying 'be yourself' and let people be whatever the hell they want to be, because they already are 'themselves'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-110448742069987631?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/110448742069987631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=110448742069987631' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/110448742069987631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/110448742069987631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2004/12/just-be-yourself.html' title='Just be yourself'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-110425913109579002</id><published>2004-12-29T02:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-12-29T02:40:18.983+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dammit, it's back up again.</title><content type='html'>I was thinking about writing something in this blog today, but just couldn't think of anything to write, so I figured I'd just go to sleep and think about it tomorrow. I click on the sign out link, and this error pops up saying "couldn't connect to blogspot" or whatever. Yeay! A good reason to NOT update my blog, since the site seems to be down. Just to be sure, I instant message my colleague. Sure enough, blogspot seems to be unavailable. I mention to my colleague how unfortunate that was since I was *just* about to update my blog when the connection went down (he'd been asking me when I'd update it, so I guess this time I could say it wasn't my fault, and that I'd do it tomorow).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then what do you suppose happens? It gets back up. The fucking internet connection, just as I was about to call it a day and go to sleep, is up and running again. So my buddy says "hey, dude, it's back online, now you can update your blog." I find myself telling him that I still can't seem to connect to it and that maybe I'll do it tomorrow. Talk about procrastinating. I've been procrastinating on almost everything for the past month or so. I've got this project I was supposed to have finished up at work sometime last week; I'll do it by the end of this week. Supposed to have registered for my new IC; it's a holiday this weekend, maybe I'll do it the week after. Shit like that. What's going on here? Where's this pattern leading? I'll tell you where it's leading. Down, that's where. If I keep this up, by the middle of next year I'll be so bogged up in backdated shit, that I'll never be able to do anything in time for the rest of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to do something about that. And I need start somewhere. Sleep seems to me like a good place to start. It's already 2.40 am now. I can't put it off any longer, lest I spend the rest of the day tomorrow looking like a zombie. Yep, no more procrastinating for me. From now on, I will get off my lazy ass and do stuff when I'm &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;supposed&lt;/span&gt; to do it.  But first I'm gonna go have a smoke, which I was supposed to have quit doing 3 weeks ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-110425913109579002?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/110425913109579002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=110425913109579002' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/110425913109579002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/110425913109579002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2004/12/dammit-its-back-up-again.html' title='Dammit, it&apos;s back up again.'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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-9548076.post-110266825032849242</id><published>2004-12-10T17:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-12-10T16:53:15.320+08:00</updated><title type='text'>This is my first time. Be gentle.</title><content type='html'>Hello. I'm new at this, so don't burn me just yet. I enjoy reading blogs and I've thought about having my own blog more than a couple of times, but never actually followed through. Recently however, a number of incidents and discussions that went on in the office where I work opened my eyes and let me see things from an angle I've never seen from. Maybe some of you who read this blog may have already realized and learnt from your own experience a lot of the stuff that I want to say. But I suppose someone somewhere might read my blog and think "Wow, I never thought of it that way", which to me would mean that this blog has served the purpose that I intended it for; as a machine for communicating my personal take on stuff that may happen to anyone. Now that I mention it, I'd like to include a disclaimer here, stating that as far as humanly possible, the views and comments that I make in my writings are my own and do not reflect in any way the views or comments of the company that I work for, my friends, or my family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, I hope this will grow to be an interesting blog. I hope you'll like it. And more importantly, I hope I'll like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9548076-110266825032849242?l=frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/feeds/110266825032849242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9548076&amp;postID=110266825032849242' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/110266825032849242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9548076/posts/default/110266825032849242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://frenchpatisserie.blogspot.com/2004/12/this-is-my-first-time-be-gentle.html' title='This is my first time. Be gentle.'/><author><name>CremeBrulee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06697552263661533109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image 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></feed>
