<?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-8150957933570740515</id><updated>2011-11-28T05:14:44.354+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hysterical Kingdom</title><subtitle type='html'>If there's no dancing in the revolution I'm not going!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>lois</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05281093722226526759</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/SqT775UfQSI/AAAAAAAAAM0/0iEm1JUCQ9c/S220/P3070072.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>14</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8150957933570740515.post-7185293726879645300</id><published>2008-06-07T05:29:00.005+04:00</published><updated>2010-06-30T15:09:16.695+04:00</updated><title type='text'>It All Boils Down to a Vacuum Cleaner</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It’s that time of the year for me again when most people rejoice and commemorate the day that their &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;mother’s water bag broke&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; and curse their father off to the most excruciating execution for causing that much pain as they &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;shoot them off of her vagina&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; – and this day is also known as birthday! Yes you heard me, that was called birthday. Oh so what if I’m cynical!?! Sue me! I’m just tired of this yearly event and right now it does not serve that good of a purpose to me as &lt;strong&gt;I step into a new decade&lt;/strong&gt; of countless who-knows-what. How did I get here? I mean, I hope somehow someone in some parallel universe has a perfect explanation for what I have become. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I used to be the person with utmost interest to save the world&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; The one with the greatest attributes to make this world a better place; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;now I’m just an exhausted soul buying Vacuum Cleaner as a birthday present for myself and actually finding bliss with the thought of cleaning my apartment during this day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, numb with all the calluses carved on me by various circumstances both fortunate and unfortunate. I used to care so much about what others go through and what they think and if they are with great values and how I can help them. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I was gonna build a community&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, adopt the homeless, nurture the abandoned babies, nurse the ailing and help people reach their dreams and ambitions. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Where did it all go?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I’m flabbergasted by how much my life took a completely different spin and I sat there watched it all happened as if I’m helpless and could not stop anything for taking place no matter how wrong it felt. The sad part is in this moment, as guilty as I feel for letting my dream slip away I find myself nonchalant about it. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#333333;"&gt;The feeling of defeat somehow becomes familiar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; that it broke all my strength down to pursue the goodness in me as though I am this evil person who will watch someone die in front of me and I won’t even bother to blink. Sometimes I sit in the dark and go through this &lt;strong&gt;extensive inquisition&lt;/strong&gt; with myself to search deep down who or what I really am; at some point it frightens me that I could not seem to find the answer. Like today I’m beat and yet I could not sleep so I opted to blog instead while &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Sarah Mclachlan tortures my invisible emotions&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. All my memories of the last decade suddenly come rushing in and I felt &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;pins and needles aggressively poking the left side of my chest&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; which most people calls heart. I wept for something beyond my level of comprehension. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;All these people in my life seem like these fragments of my imagination and I’m deliberately flushing them down the drain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; while &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;my solitude brings me to ecstasy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; How can some find great pleasure in loneliness? Is it because I failed to follow my dream so I &lt;strong&gt;subconsciously punish myself by isolating me&lt;/strong&gt; from the company of people that I enjoy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Is my guilt so powerful&lt;/strong&gt; that &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;it eliminates my reasoning&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;from justifying the things I deserve regardless if I failed or succeed? It might take more than a session of sitting in the dark to &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;analyze the events in my life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; which I have lost control over. Must I lose interest in the things that used to make me realize my existence? I sure hope not. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I should never cease to be compelled to seek&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; for that real purpose I once thought I got all figured out. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Life appears to be an infinite search of its core sense before one find profound happiness and sometimes people find the answers back to where they started. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little did I know; it might be the case for me but now it doesn’t feel like it yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I know is, on my birthday I’m using the vacuum cleaner I bought as a present to clean my apartment – that is already making me smile.&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/8150957933570740515-7185293726879645300?l=hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/feeds/7185293726879645300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8150957933570740515&amp;postID=7185293726879645300' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/7185293726879645300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/7185293726879645300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/2008/06/it-all-boils-down-to-vacuum-cleaner.html' title='It All Boils Down to a Vacuum Cleaner'/><author><name>lois</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05281093722226526759</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/SqT775UfQSI/AAAAAAAAAM0/0iEm1JUCQ9c/S220/P3070072.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8150957933570740515.post-6760874011621578797</id><published>2008-05-15T19:21:00.007+04:00</published><updated>2010-06-30T15:08:31.619+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Isn't it Ironic?... says Alanis</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#999999;"&gt;I’m slightly irritated but not as much as I'm amused by the poor people who try ever so hard not to show that they care if not obsessed over someone still by saying &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;“I don’t care”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why write about this? Since I asked, let me just recollect all my bizarre memories and experiences of countless souls that dodged the icky feeling of obsession over another person. I talk so much everyone knows that, but when it comes to my shrink chair I am all ears to everyone who is anyone who is going through some blah-ness in their lives. Sometimes they talk about their would-be significant other, used-to-be significant other, want-to-be significant other, or just somebody who is someone. After the endless ranting and raving it ends with &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;“I never really care about her/him anyway”, “I never really love him/her”, I don’t give a shit!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Sometimes they write on their shout out. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;“I’m too busy to care”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; but apparently not busy enough to have a time to write that shout out down.&lt;br /&gt;At some point when they accidentally hear an update about that someone, they update the shout out to &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;“I’m too happy to be affected”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Whaaaat? LOFL! I don’t get this, seriously, my idea of not caring for real is to just NOT CARE period, shut the fuck up, just live your life, enough with the contradicting statement and move on. It makes me beef and I don’t even know why. It’s just so booooo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you think about it, the musicians that writes song about their ex and bash them in the lyrics and pretend that they are over them and done with them. Well what the hell are they still singin about then? &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;For someone who is done and over with they had to still spend sometime reminiscing and reliving the painful memory and write a song about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; That doesn’t look like DONE to me. And that’s the irony of this whole thing with people who sing about goodbye, bitterness and denial. In their lyrics they claim they have moved on. Yeah clearly, I mean ok the mean lyrics is one way of getting back at the painful experience and somewhere somehow some depressed heartbroken somebody is going to obsess over that song and then a whole bunch of other depressed people likes that song and then it becomes number 1.Well awesome! I mean I would also writer a song about my bitterness to make money out of it but then again at the end of the day I would realized I never really gotten over it and even more so sunk myself in it cuz this stupid song that I wrote will follow me till eternity and that memory will carve an even deeper scar on me. But then I can always use the cash! Lol! I just can't be bothered&lt;br /&gt;All I’m saying is why are people so hypocritical? I won't say I never did because it's a lie. I always admit that I liked that someone but now I don't feel that way anymore. It's not so hard to say it, why the pretentions? I don't get the pretentions! I just can't lie to myself - I won't be able to sleep like a baby at night. :-)&lt;br /&gt;I’m blah-ing about this cuz it makes me sad to watch them torture themselves. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8150957933570740515-6760874011621578797?l=hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/feeds/6760874011621578797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8150957933570740515&amp;postID=6760874011621578797' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/6760874011621578797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/6760874011621578797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/2008/05/isnt-it-ironic-says-alanis.html' title='Isn&apos;t it Ironic?... says Alanis'/><author><name>lois</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05281093722226526759</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/SqT775UfQSI/AAAAAAAAAM0/0iEm1JUCQ9c/S220/P3070072.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8150957933570740515.post-4977655929511845883</id><published>2008-04-28T15:50:00.009+04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T18:07:17.561+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Do You Know What Your Tattoo Means?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/SBXB7Hk-TzI/AAAAAAAAAF8/w8cyqxxlR-o/s1600-h/main+tatoo.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194270966632304434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/SBXB7Hk-TzI/AAAAAAAAAF8/w8cyqxxlR-o/s400/main+tatoo.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#999999;"&gt;I have always supported &lt;strong&gt;freedom of expression&lt;/strong&gt;, no matter what form they maybe as long as it doesn’t violate anyone’s rights. I have a few antics of my own which includes &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;writing, photography and tattoos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Sometimes &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9966;"&gt;I sit around and bash people in my vivid imagination&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; – oh wait, that was a hobby and it violates people’s right to defend themselves against what I think of their outfit, body, hair and personality, so yea maybe it’s another level of my own freedom expressing my opinion. More to the point of my subject matter of the day – tattoo. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#999999;"&gt;I have about 5 of them. I would say 3 out 5 are my favorites. I’m currently in love with the latest addition to this mild obsession I have. Let me help you locate this piece of art in my anatomy – it’s on my forearm so it’s pretty visible to the human eye. &lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Usually on my carefree day I wear t-shirt or a tank top (sometimes I wear pants too hah!)&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; It’s hot here so obviously pullovers are not really in fashion mostly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#999999;"&gt;As I walk around the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;fabulously hot and humid streets of Dubai&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; this piece always gets some stares and it usually starts a conversation on its own. It’s so annoying how much attention it gets that it got me buying long sleeves lately and damn it it’s hot! When my arm is free from the sleeves it talks to people. I’m telling you there have been ridiculous amount of conversation this arm had with random people.&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My arm is like this chic with humongous boobs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and men don’t look at her face when they talk to her the only stare at her tits. She is a walking breast; her personality is completely over ruled by the boobies.&lt;br /&gt;October of last year was when I got it and since then I probably had hundreds of people that had asked me this irritating question whenever, wherever. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#999999;"&gt;So they stare at my arm and I’m fine till they ask – &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;“Hey, so do you know what your tattoo means?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; For the first 10 people that asked me that I was all nice and smiley. I gladly explained the whole history of how this piece came about (the story will only be told if necessary). After few more of that I’m violent! I mean what the fuck are these people thinking? This question is stupid and not to mention insulting! Who would mark their body something they do not know of? Ok granted &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I obviously do not look like an Arab&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; and I also don’t look like I could speak Arabic let alone read it but damn it I wouldn’t mark my body something I have no clue about. And I live in an Arab country for crying out loud so gimme a break for appreciating the language and the calligraphy! If I saw someone with an interesting tattoo on their body I think the proper conversation would be “That’s and interesting tattoo, what does it mean?” sounds lame but not insulting as:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Dude: So, do you know what that means in your arm?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Me: Yeah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Dude: Enti Shereerah. It means you are evil. Are you evil?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;(Ok first of all I already said I know what it means, I never implied he had to explain it to me and furthermore to ask if I am evil! I have few responses for this question)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;- Depends on who’s asking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I will be if few minutes if you don’t get out of my way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Yeah, your mom didn’t tell you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Excuse me I need to go that way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;This dude in the gas station chased me (or maybe he was chasing my arm) from the counter to the parking lot just to explain to me what my tattoo means. I am so sick of this shit &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;if I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt; get one more question about this tattoo I will just automatically bite my arm till it bleeds in front of them!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Oh my neck hole this is just a tattoo not the apocalypse! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8150957933570740515-4977655929511845883?l=hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/feeds/4977655929511845883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8150957933570740515&amp;postID=4977655929511845883' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/4977655929511845883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/4977655929511845883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/2008/04/do-you-know-what-your-tattoo-means.html' title='Do You Know What Your Tattoo Means?'/><author><name>lois</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05281093722226526759</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/SqT775UfQSI/AAAAAAAAAM0/0iEm1JUCQ9c/S220/P3070072.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/SBXB7Hk-TzI/AAAAAAAAAF8/w8cyqxxlR-o/s72-c/main+tatoo.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8150957933570740515.post-465556241110228487</id><published>2008-04-02T15:04:00.007+04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T18:07:17.917+04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Late Night Food...(late post cuz i suck.. written 26 March)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;just cuz i can’t cOOk and can’t dO shit in the kitchen&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;...&lt;strong&gt;i ate pOpcOrn fOr dinner last night&lt;/strong&gt;...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;well i tried...twice!...i read the instructiOns On the thingy it says under five minutes suppOsedly...hmmm...i had the micrOvawe set fOr 2 mins just in case it gOt &lt;strong&gt;burnt&lt;/strong&gt;...and then 2 mins later there were still sOme pOppin happenin inside sO i thOught...maybe 1 mOre minute...i remOved it after 20 secs and my kitchen smelt like a &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;burnt-i-can’t-explain-shit&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;...(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;i&lt;/span&gt; thOught - mOm!!!...i’m hungry feed me!!!)...the secOnd time it was better...half Of the pOpcOrn were cOOked and half were...well..it was still cOrn...&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;they came undOne!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;...4 years living alOne in anOther cOuntry...it makes me wOnder hOw i still manage tO survive...the Only perfect thing i can dO in the kitchen is a mess!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;i wOke up in the mOrning drOve tO wOrk...listened tO the news...and hOly pOpcorn!!!.. &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;the city was On fire!&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;..&lt;/span&gt;the cause - &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;EXPLOSION&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Of an &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;illegal Fire Cracker WarehOuse&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;...uhmmm...sOrry i didn’t think the pOpcOrn wOuld have that much Of an effect!..&lt;br /&gt;well tOnight me and my dOgs are just eating &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;marshmallOws&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;fOr dinner!...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/R_Np1-618VI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Je1iNQsCpLc/s1600-h/SZR+4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184603972177359186" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/R_Np1-618VI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Je1iNQsCpLc/s320/SZR+4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/R_NqCe618WI/AAAAAAAAAEg/tb5pNzaT8qY/s1600-h/SZR+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184604186925724002" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/R_NqCe618WI/AAAAAAAAAEg/tb5pNzaT8qY/s320/SZR+1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/R_NpZu618UI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/ZPVGeCbvzJ8/s1600-h/SZR+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8150957933570740515-465556241110228487?l=hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/feeds/465556241110228487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8150957933570740515&amp;postID=465556241110228487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/465556241110228487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/465556241110228487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/2008/04/late-night-foodlate-post-cuz-i-suck.html' title='The Late Night Food...(late post cuz i suck.. written 26 March)'/><author><name>lois</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05281093722226526759</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/SqT775UfQSI/AAAAAAAAAM0/0iEm1JUCQ9c/S220/P3070072.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/R_Np1-618VI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Je1iNQsCpLc/s72-c/SZR+4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8150957933570740515.post-222065901272270746</id><published>2007-06-07T12:29:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-06-08T15:10:58.628+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Insignificant Others</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Growing up I have always been the &lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;comedian/drama&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;queen&lt;/span&gt;. I get very touchy when it comes to my birthday. As a kid I expect everybody to remember; if one of my cousins missed to greet me I would sulk and mope all day long. That bad huh? I know! When I get a little older I have moved on from the close relatives to close friends to close co-workers. In the office I expect &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;confettis&lt;/span&gt; or a gigantic balloon with my name on it, flowers, cakes the works. Everything has to be exquisite. In spite of all the parties and such I still feel that somehow there are something that my friends and colleagues aren't able to fulfill. &lt;span style="color:#99ff99;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The surprise party!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; That's because most of my celebrations are planned! I wonder; has it ever occur to my friends that &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;I sometimes would like to expect the unexpected&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; at least? I mean seriously, they plan things a week ahead or even worse a month ahead! The problem is most of those plans never manifest into an actual event; they remained as concept till I get over it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Speaking of getting over it; this year, I completely stop caring! I almost forgot about it when I woke up this morning! I just got up and worked out and can I just say that there is something utterly annoying in working out in the morning. It's bad enough that I have the same schedule as the rest of &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Dubai's Desperate Housewives&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;; I also have to watch them gossip amongst them selves and build gangs in class rooms so they can occupy the great spots. I will talk about this one day. That and the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;cellulites&lt;/span&gt; and saggy boobs, implants, everything you see in a women's locker room! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going back to my original beef of the day; for a week now I successfully managed to ignore the rest of the universe and whatever significant this day has brought to me until yesterday….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The office phone rings....&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;Jess: Good afternoon (insert company name here) this is Jess&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#33cc00;"&gt;Lady on the other line: Hello I am calling from (hotel name) Hotel, can I talk to Jess?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;Jess: (DUH! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Didn&lt;/span&gt;’t I just ID myself earlier) You got her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#33cc00;"&gt;Lady on the other line: Hello Madam could you send someone over to the hotel tomorrow to pick up the cake?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;Jess: Huh? Cake? Someone ordered a cake? I didn't! What's the cake for?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#33cc00;"&gt;Lady on the other line: Oh it's the cake for your birthday Madam!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;Jess: Oh really? I don't really know if I can, I have work tomorrow, but if your cake is still available after 8 pm someone will eat it! (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Lol&lt;/span&gt;) I mean I will pick it up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#33cc00;"&gt;Lady on the other line: Yes of course, just please claim it from the Pastries Boutique.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weird! First of all how do they even know it's my b-day? Sure I put some of our insignificant low budgeted guests there but knowing my b-day is too much of information a Hotel used once a year can get a hold of, I'm officially scared now!&lt;br /&gt;And what's with the Pastries Boutique somehow for me the word &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Boutique&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; should only be associated with garments, fabric or textiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 hours later an e-mail came through from a Head Hunter company wishing me Happy B-day but no mention of any cake at all! (cheap bastards! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Lol&lt;/span&gt;!)&lt;br /&gt;Several minutes later, I was flooded with e-mails from various companies like &lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.souq.com"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Souq&lt;/span&gt;.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.hotmail.com"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Hotmail&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; and many others.&lt;br /&gt;As if the day isn't weird enough I received &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;sms&lt;/span&gt; form &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;HSBC&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; sending their wishes.&lt;br /&gt;5 days back I been getting &lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.myspace.com"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;myspace&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; messages from people I do not know of also with their greetings, then as I logged in today I read at least 10 offline messages from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;skype&lt;/span&gt; with the same intention-to wish me happy b-day!&lt;br /&gt;OK Who are these people?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite the strangeness factor bit, &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am deeply touched that the World Wide Web spent 1 second to remember!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Sweet! So while I was absorbing this nostalgic relationship I have with the Internet I paused and asked myself. Am I all over the place? Am I too honest when filling out information online? I certainly am. Suddenly I am having an anxiety attack. I cannot distinguish the difference between feeling overwhelmed by how these insignificant others take a little time for me and being scared for putting too much truthful information online (aside from this blog of course where I chose to be somewhat anonymous)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I slowly regain full consciousness I asked (again), where the hell are my friends? How come I get mostly impersonal greetings? Oh I remember 1 friend called me on the 5&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; and she was all like &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;"Hey hey it's your b-day"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I sighed and said, Dude you are calling the wrong friend, try again it's not the 7&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I received an overseas call from someone I used to totally hangout with. A friend that’s &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ccccff;"&gt;always hungry never full&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; and she call me &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;"Bitch"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; when she feels like being sweet. BUT the line got disconnected, the bad thing was, her number didn't appear on my phone so no way of calling her back - that bitch sure knows how to annoy me even when she's million miles away. I love and miss her though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway I wanted to go to sleep earlier last night for a change because you know, I normally get some shut eyes way past 2 am. My phone just never shut up, so I shut it off. This morning people started calling again. I intentionally ignore them as I took my time dressing up for work. Somehow I can’t ignore the ringing forever, I picked it up to find out that my friends wants to see me because they bought me a cake &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;(another cake)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I’m not really fond of the idea that collecting cakes will be the highlight of this day but whatever and I’m not even a cake person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I am not sure where I stand with this birthday thing, it’s no longer a big deal to me. I just want to get it over with.&lt;/span&gt; &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/8150957933570740515-222065901272270746?l=hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/feeds/222065901272270746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8150957933570740515&amp;postID=222065901272270746' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/222065901272270746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/222065901272270746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/2007/06/insignificant-others.html' title='Insignificant Others'/><author><name>lois</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05281093722226526759</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/SqT775UfQSI/AAAAAAAAAM0/0iEm1JUCQ9c/S220/P3070072.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8150957933570740515.post-4897909514125827083</id><published>2007-05-13T21:11:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T17:19:50.692+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Uh Huh Her!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;Today after what seems to be an eternal hiatus I decided to see you again. I went to your class after a major resistance. I told myself I needed the work out (who am I kidding?). I signed in, got my ticket and got inside the room. Wait! Who is this rather fine looking woman fixing the weights-YOUR weights! A little conversation went through my head &lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Does this mean she is not teaching? Oh I guess it's great so then I would not have to deal with random discomforts every time she looks at me. Good, I'm ready, bring it!"&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; Just when I was settling in you walked right through the door. Why is it that &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;every time I feel your presence I get completely dismantled?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; My head was spinning I kept on telling myself I could do this, you are just some person in this class. I can always just concentrate on the drill; yes that's right, it's not so hard to do is it? For a brief moment things were fine, class begun, that fine looking lady kicked it off with you being the shadow. That's good I don't have to hear your voice, that would make things easier. Off we go! Pick up your weights, bend your knees, stick your butt, count one two &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;yoohooo&lt;/span&gt;! Perfect; I forgot that few minutes back I was dismantled; I have regained my composure...until you smiled at me! There it goes again, your presence taking over me, I had to smile back although I wish I hadn't but then I would be really rude. I need to look away-away from your overwhelming glory. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;Halfway through the class you switched places, you took over I heard your voice, it's powerful, it's tearing me apart. I wish this class would end and then I could kick your butt all over town, soon after that I will forget you (yeah right! In my dreams!). An hour of agony later, my self inflicted misery is over! &lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Class dismissed!&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I ran to the locker room; shower, I need shower! Some pretentious lady trying to be as slang (Yankee slang but I could still tell where she is from) as she could was crunched down below my locker talking to someone in her cell about a dinner. Normally that would really irritate me but not this time, I have other things in my mind. I had to get out of this place before I am face to face with my death. I have never stripped so fast in my life. Yeah but I wrapped my body around with towel so quickly too. Shower time. Lather it up, rinse and go! In times like these when you look like a potato sack in your towel gown; you wouldn't really wanna see the person you are running away from. And who do I ran into across the shower area? You! Why God? What did I do wrong? Once again we said &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;"Hi"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; (with a slight hint of embarrassment and a lot of awkwardness, I am so sure you noticed that) I had a little time to analyze. Did watching Forrest &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Gump&lt;/span&gt; last night a screaming clue of what my day is going to be like? Run Jess Run? Whatever, I have to get dressed; immediately if not sooner! I got my skirt, my top and wow I still have my towel around my head and who walked in this time? Her! Uh huh her! That pretty lady with you in the class. She is hot and I'm sure you think so too.&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;While I was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;pickin&lt;/span&gt; up my dirty clothes you showed up!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Dammit! Can I go anywhere without you being there at all?!? Gotta fix my stuff, I got to get out of here I am running out of air to breathe. Then you had a conversation with her. &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You were asking her out for a dinner!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; She seemed a little bit hesitant, I am just not sure if it's because she does not want people to know that you are asking her out or that she is a closet case or maybe she lives in Straight Ville. Suddenly I am frozen, not because of your presence but because I just realized something. &lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;That look in your eyes and that smile you have while you are looking at her is the same God Damn look and smile that I had when I was talking to you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;sometime back from which Ana had told me. Can this be anymore of a torture? I feel how you feel. I feel it for you and you feel that for her! &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;You really like her don't you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; While I am figuring this all out, I wish that I am in a different place! I should have stayed home and bathe my dog, watched whatever and not have a knife stabbed my heart a million times in a matter of 2 minutes! Seriously I need to get myself away from this! Dammit why is it that when you need flip flops you find a pair of converse in your bag instead all this damn shoe laces that I now don't remember how to tie! I looked up and you picked up a sweaty black garment, you asked her if it was hers and she said yes, and you put it in your pocket! Did you just take her underwear and put it in your pocket? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;WTF&lt;/span&gt;!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I managed to escape from that holocaust and we all know that when we are rushing we tend to forget many things! Where the hell is my cell phone? Please don't make me go back there I cannot suffer any further! I can't breathe, I need my car keys! Where the hell is everything? In this situation I usually say calm down, well bull shit! &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;How can I calm down when my world is falling apart?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Eventually I found everything. I can now safely go home. As I walked to the parking lot which is not very far by the way, I felt some moist in my eyes, now it cannot be tears, maybe it's just because it's too humid, but that moist became liquid and they start to fall, I felt my heart stopped beating for a second and my shoulder was shaking. I guess I am crying. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;These are the most stupid tears I have ever let go from my eyes. I can't cry for you, you don't even know I like you...a lot. You that I only see when I want to. You that I can never have enough courage to ask out. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;I had to call Ana, she is the only one who understands, she told me when she met her that I have some serious thing going on for her. This is when she explained about the look I had and the smile I had while I looked or perhaps stared at her. For sure she would not tell me how stupid I am for feeling this way. But then again she might yell at me for not asking you out long before. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Now it's officially too late.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; You have that &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;za&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;za&lt;/span&gt; zoom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; in your eyes for that beautiful lady. After I dialed Ana's number for about a hundred times I gave up. It's Sunday afternoon in Madrid, she must have been out with her family. I sat in my car a little longer with my blurry vision. I wish it was raining so nobody can see. I went home, naturally when I see my dog I feel better, but not this time. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;It hurts to like someone so much without them knowing. And unfolding the reality in front of my very eyes wasn't easy to accept either.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I guess that's how my story with you ends. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:180%;color:#663366;"&gt;You took my sunshine away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I have never been so heart broken in my entire life until tonight! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Just as I was about to save this; Ana texted asking if I was ok. I called her and as soon as she said "Hola!" I'm soaked with tears again. Apparently I was wrong because she said &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;"You are so stupid why are you crying? You have seen her with that curly haired girl whom you thought was her girlfriend and it never affected you how is this different?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; And I felt that knife stabbed me again. This is different because I never saw you look at curly haired girl like that; I can feel that you are nervous around that pretty lady today. I reminded Ana about that look that she told me about. And I said &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;"This is different because I never saw HER asked anyone out in front of me before"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; And she said it sucks that she is so far away because it scares her to actually hear me sob and talk at the same time. She said &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ff99;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"I gotta get you to Madrid soon, promise me that after this there are no more Mona classes, its either that or you go to another gym! Forget about Mona" &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&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/8150957933570740515-4897909514125827083?l=hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/feeds/4897909514125827083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8150957933570740515&amp;postID=4897909514125827083' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/4897909514125827083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/4897909514125827083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/2007/05/uh-huh-her.html' title='Uh Huh Her!'/><author><name>lois</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05281093722226526759</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/SqT775UfQSI/AAAAAAAAAM0/0iEm1JUCQ9c/S220/P3070072.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8150957933570740515.post-7308092257709774561</id><published>2007-05-08T14:31:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T18:07:18.126+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Kate - I THANK YOU for Caring</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/RkBU3ItjqGI/AAAAAAAAADo/JS5YA7abb8w/s1600-h/gay+pride.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062139287372540002" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/RkBU3ItjqGI/AAAAAAAAADo/JS5YA7abb8w/s200/gay+pride.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;Although many people think that the Showtime's hit series &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thelwordonline.com/main.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The L Word&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666666;"&gt; is overrated; I still look forward to the next season although it didn't give us a lot to hold on to for the next 9 months. When I find something utterly interesting for example a TV show I tend to go deeper than the text book (i.e. the script), I can't just watch and be totally incoherent, I feel the need to unravel the real color of the people who plays the character on TV hence the endless research about the cast-only the ones I admire. I would like to know that they are so much more than that of the character that they play. The ones that I find endearingly amazing are &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thelword-fr.net/katherinemoennig/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kate Moennig&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666666;"&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://perso.orange.fr/leisha-hailey.fr/news.htm"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Leisha Hailey&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Kate was on a teenage TV show called Young Americans she was also seen in Art School Confidential, Invitation to Suicide and a film called Shipping News etc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Leisha on the other hand have been in the spot light since she was a kid, I first knew of her from listening to a 2 piece band &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lilithfair.com/artists/murmurs/index.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Murmurs&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;, and then I later discovered that Leisha was also in this old TV show called When Boy Meets Girl and so many other appearances in TV and music industry, she currently have a new band called &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QSal7U4ETSU"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Uh Huh Her&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt; they haven't put up a website as of yet, perhaps they are still too busy working on their EP and I hope it's nothing less than what The Murmurs have established over the past decade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While Leisha is an openly admitted Lesbian; Kate Moennig never talks about her sexuality which I am pretty bummed out about or maybe I don't really care much for I absolutely hope and believe that she is a lesbian. There is not a single part of her body that tells me she is straight, remember Gaydar? Yeah we all have it implanted in our system and her signal is so much stronger than &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Etisalat could ever produce! In fact she kinda help me realized who I am. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/RkBTxItjqFI/AAAAAAAAADg/XTfNaCzA7LY/s1600-h/gay+pride.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;o I did some searching about her and I am deeply overwhelmed to discover what a wonderful person she is. And in my very little way I am grateful of what she is doing. The only question I have about her &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lhpNbd2xJRM"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;documentary&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;is: Now that they know how hostile the lives of these kids are; will they do more than just film them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/RkBSs4tjqCI/AAAAAAAAADI/802uy0KX2oE/s1600-h/sharmen.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062136912255625250" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 157px" height="173" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/RkBSs4tjqCI/AAAAAAAAADI/802uy0KX2oE/s200/sharmen.JPG" width="200" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My Address with K. Moennig:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lhpNbd2xJRM"&gt;Episode 1&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C6ICa87rNHs"&gt;Episode 2&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4gcohHGaV9w"&gt;Episode 3&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leisha and Kate's funny podcast:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uodWj7jexNQ"&gt;Part 1&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9899V-02BZE"&gt;Part 2&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eOYdSrYeXA0"&gt;Part 3&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f2VtjLoMrcg"&gt;Part 4&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8150957933570740515-7308092257709774561?l=hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/feeds/7308092257709774561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8150957933570740515&amp;postID=7308092257709774561' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/7308092257709774561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/7308092257709774561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/2007/05/although-many-people-think-that.html' title='Kate - I THANK YOU for Caring'/><author><name>lois</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05281093722226526759</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/SqT775UfQSI/AAAAAAAAAM0/0iEm1JUCQ9c/S220/P3070072.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/RkBU3ItjqGI/AAAAAAAAADo/JS5YA7abb8w/s72-c/gay+pride.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8150957933570740515.post-5769446246519292272</id><published>2007-04-19T18:52:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-04-20T13:35:21.954+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Que Coño ha Pasado?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I went on vacation for a week and when I came back my blog is in German? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;WTF happened here?!? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I would have understood it if it were in Spanish but noooo...it has to be Deutche? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sohn eines&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Weibchens!!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;Excepts from the short lived vacaciones:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The beach had lots of biatches and it was equally awesome...I am burned as hell...can't wait till I see what I have filmed! A friend named Ana flew in from Madrid to see the targets (Male Emaratis) up close, apparently her appetite switched from&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"hombres españoles calientes"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; to &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;"hombres árabes calientes "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; even though I have warned her that they aren't as hot as they look in the sheets, she didn't mind. She did not want just any Arab man; it has to be Emaratis wearing kandura (intrigued by what's underneath it all) Fine! I don't get it but whatever!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So we went to Al Ain where all the beautiful and perfect Emarati gentlemen were and boy did she almost piss in her pants! I guess she didn't have fun as much as she should have had because some part of my brain have blocked all the menkind and I have completely lost interest in them so at some point I had a hard time relating to a female desire just by lookin at men. We head back to Dubai later that day and I had to come up with some excuse to go to the gym so I can see the one who takes my sunshine away! There she was...piercing blue eyes and bone melting smile!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Next night we had coffee at Japenggo in Dubai Marine area...it was beautiful...we were being so random that we wound up with this conversation:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ana: Will you marry me?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Jess: Really?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ana: Yea! so you can be an EU national and move to Madrid with me!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Jess: LOL! yea let's get married!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And then we started laughing, there were 2 local boys behind us and they didn't know how to react and they cannot believe if they were really hearing what they were hearing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We left the scene still crackin up and she kept on playing with people's mind. While we were walkin she held me and said "Where do you wanna go baby I'll take you there!" and I just kept laughing! It was too funny cuz I know that she is so straight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; Oh and I forgot the part when there was this pretty lady that kept on looking at me that it made me feel uncomfortable and almost wanted to ask for her name if she weren't with her sisters (I figured because they all look alike; all 3 of them). After she ate a whole plate of I dunno what the hell it was, she stood up took one more look at me (I hope it was really me she was looking at) and then left! Soon after she left the butterflies visited my stomach and decided that they want to fly around again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Ana left on Tuesday night and the fun is over. I'm kinda sad now that my future spouse is back in Madrid! Lol!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;p.s. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mona you're fuckin breakin my heart everyday and you don't even know it!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8150957933570740515-5769446246519292272?l=hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/feeds/5769446246519292272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8150957933570740515&amp;postID=5769446246519292272' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/5769446246519292272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/5769446246519292272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/2007/04/qu-el-infierno-sucedi.html' title='Que Coño ha Pasado?'/><author><name>lois</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05281093722226526759</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/SqT775UfQSI/AAAAAAAAAM0/0iEm1JUCQ9c/S220/P3070072.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8150957933570740515.post-4065361759520402468</id><published>2007-04-08T15:11:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-04-09T15:09:45.241+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Vague</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;In a world where everyone is &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;delusional&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Where everyone is confused and in &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;denial&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One cannot draw the conclusion between what is real and what is a make believe &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;I sat in a corner as I watch the world come tumbling down&lt;br /&gt;I see how &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;surreal&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; the reality appears to be&lt;br /&gt;Nothing is real and all its meaning of every purpose is vaguely represented by a &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;superficial&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; desire to outwit the original character &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ugliest of form is coated by an element from which the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;substance&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; is brutally eliminated and stripped off of its &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;core&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;As one evolves leaving nothing but a shadow of what used to be &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;pure&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every inch of its being is &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;corrupted&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; by a force bigger than that of a monstrous image that won’t fade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Like a child I hide from the dream that had &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;manifested&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; into a nightmare that haunts me in my sleep&lt;br /&gt;I searched for familiar faces as I step closer to the ground of a &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;foreign&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; territory&lt;br /&gt;I found nothing but a feeling of eternal &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;longing&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; for a salvation to lift me off of an infinite void &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And like a pair of paralyzed limb I felt so &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;numb&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; and &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;helpless&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; to save me from an &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;unforgiving fate&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; the brought me into the brink of insanity&lt;br /&gt;All that I know I am left my once defined consciousness&lt;br /&gt;An endless &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;inquisition&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; takes me to a boundless &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;uncertainty &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;It seems like the search for my once affirmative &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;identity&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; and a battle to fight against the &lt;a href="http://theplanetcast.blogspot.com/"&gt;unknown&lt;/a&gt; from which I have already claimed victory for is once again set to begin&lt;br /&gt;I no longer see black or white&lt;br /&gt;Both have been diluted to a frightening shade of &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;grey&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Nothing is ever what it seems&lt;/span&gt;&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/8150957933570740515-4065361759520402468?l=hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/feeds/4065361759520402468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8150957933570740515&amp;postID=4065361759520402468' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/4065361759520402468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/4065361759520402468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/2007/04/vague.html' title='Vague'/><author><name>lois</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05281093722226526759</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/SqT775UfQSI/AAAAAAAAAM0/0iEm1JUCQ9c/S220/P3070072.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8150957933570740515.post-2740719728301919175</id><published>2007-04-08T01:24:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-04-08T15:10:23.370+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Beneath the Surface</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;I have always known...a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;ll the &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;signs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;I've seen... I have always ignored&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;I have lived a &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;lie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;I tried to &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;hide&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;I almost died...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;I tried to face it...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;I almost lost it...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;...tbc...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8150957933570740515-2740719728301919175?l=hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/feeds/2740719728301919175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8150957933570740515&amp;postID=2740719728301919175' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/2740719728301919175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/2740719728301919175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/2007/04/beneath-surface.html' title='Beneath the Surface'/><author><name>lois</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05281093722226526759</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/SqT775UfQSI/AAAAAAAAAM0/0iEm1JUCQ9c/S220/P3070072.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8150957933570740515.post-4270089256462698727</id><published>2007-03-26T13:22:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T20:01:28.311+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Comfort In Your Strageness</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I dreamt of you last night.. you were alone sitting on the edge of the stones by the shore... your eyes looked sad.. almost teary.... your presence haunts me... your voice....qietly spoken - loudly heard...your falling apart and I'm broken....this eternal sadness... this overwhelming distance...all of these elements that keeps us apart...I once told you... you're the farthest by distance but you're the closest one I have..you still are...earlier that night I was at the grocery store...I was headed out while you walk towards me...in the middle of the sliding door we met.. I was looking at my way...I bet you were too..when our bodies touched...you whisper on my left ear...&lt;span style="color:#ccccff;"&gt;"&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;yOu are sO cute&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;"... &lt;/span&gt;it was very strange..the way you uttered it...the way I felt your right arm brushed up against mine..it gave me chills...I glanced at your direction... you were gone.. all I said was a lame &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;thank you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;...I continued to walk.. stuffed my bags at the back of the car...I sat inside...I waited for a short while...you came out.. looked around.. I knew you were looking for me...the tint on my window blocked every image of me...you reversed and took off...I sat a little bit longer...to let the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;butterflies-in-my-stOmach&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;fly around it...I went home... await for you...I saw you as soon as I closed my eyes...you're beautiful...who are you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8150957933570740515-4270089256462698727?l=hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/feeds/4270089256462698727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8150957933570740515&amp;postID=4270089256462698727' title='22 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/4270089256462698727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/4270089256462698727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/2007/03/comfort-in-your-strageness.html' title='Comfort In Your Strageness'/><author><name>lois</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05281093722226526759</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/SqT775UfQSI/AAAAAAAAAM0/0iEm1JUCQ9c/S220/P3070072.jpg'/></author><thr:total>22</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8150957933570740515.post-5127427328776452652</id><published>2007-03-23T15:16:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-03-23T18:56:57.889+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tonee's Craddle</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;In the middle of wanting to party and finding nirvana on a Thursday night I found myself doing neither as I stood completely stunned by the door lookin at my friend Tonee with a knife in his hand and very lightly trying to cut fine lines on his wrist! I walked towards him and hugged him tightly trying to take that knife away but he refused to let go of it! Holy jumping Jesus! What do I do?&lt;br /&gt;He said &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"This is it!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Huh? This is what - I asked myself, Is he gonna seriously cut his wrist?&lt;br /&gt;And again he said &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;"This is my Karma"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Allow me to explain that - the boyfriend that he has now used to be his best friend's boyfriend. You know how they say &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;If&lt;/span&gt; he cheats with you, he will cheat on you?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; well - this is what it's about. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Tonee asked for Drew &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;(our other friend)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; so I went out of the room and find Drew who was then tensed while chopping tomatoes in the kitchen. I told him that Tonee want's to see him. Meanwhile, Larry, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;(Tonee's now ex boyfriend - but I don't know anymore)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; was in the living room watchin TV and at the same time calming himself down from that vicious fight they just had. I told Larry what I found in that room. He hurriedly went to see for himself and asked Drew to leave the 2 of them in the room to talk and possibly keep Tonee from killing himself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat in the corner of my room thinkin OMG! What a night! I never realized that homosexual relationship can be so dramatic not to mention traumatic! 20 minutes later Larry knocked on my door, he said &lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Could you do me a favor and drop Tonee to his new place, I could not do it, I can't stay in this house either"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; I said &lt;em&gt;"Of course"&lt;/em&gt; Drew finished cooking&lt;em&gt;, w&lt;/em&gt;e ate dinner, we tried to have a completely different topic to divert the situation but I could not help lookin at Tonee and seeing how hurt he is though I'm very happy that the knives and all the sharp objects were all hidden somewhere he could not find. I wanted to give him a hug and tell him that's it's all going to be ok but knowing Tonee, doing such would all the more cause him to break down so we pretended everything was fine. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Benji &lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(Drew's boyfriend)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and I loaded Tonee's things in the car. As we walked away from what used to be a happy home I felt Tonee's pain sunk deeper in his veins and that deafening silence and the eerie atmosphere that surrounds us consumed every bit of strength that held Tonee together. I held his hand and I whispered &lt;em&gt;"Don't look back"&lt;/em&gt; as we get closer to the gate Larry shouted "&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Are you crying again? Stop crying!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Tonee let go of a long sigh and motioned to his direction and said &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"No, my right knee is hurting that's why I can't walk properly"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; I continued to walk Tonee went back and Larry walked towards him, they kissed, they hugged. What a pitiful sight. It hurts. They said their goodbyes, and that they'd call each other. I started the engine, sat and waited for Tonee to get in the car. As soon as he sat down he let go of all the tears he's been trying to stop from falling. I started to drive as Tonee fell apart. I said &lt;em&gt;"Scream if you need to, cry as hard as you can its ok, no one’s gonna know"&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(That's right this is why I'm blogging it - I'm such a traitor)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; He stopped and he said &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;“I’m ok, I’m done”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;I said &lt;em&gt;“You are not done, you are just getting started, let it all flow, let it all out, for this is your last cry” &lt;/em&gt;And then he burst into an endless river of tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing is, Tonee and Larry has been having problems since late last year when Tonee went on a month long vacation leaving Larry in Dubai living like a single man; Larry's going out habit isn't something that Tonee is very fond of which at some point; we all thought that Larry was seeing another boy toy. They talked about it and Larry stopped goin out. Despite the effort that Larry exerted to compromise and willingness to meet Tonee half way, Tonee remained reluctant to rekindle the relationship and settled being a desperate "housewife" who find's his joy in cleaning the house and doing the laundry over the weekend! We (Benji, Drew and I) have tried countless of ways to make Tonee understand that their deteriorating relationship is not gonna revive itself and that he has to meet Larry's needs which for us are very simple. Larry's indulgent includes, eating dinner outside twice a month, walking thru Ikea's model rooms and amusing himself with the selection of products in Dragon Mart. "If" indeed Larry cheated on Tonee, he stopped&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;(oh so we thought - who knows)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; as soon as Tonee asked him to stop and make "them" work again, Larry did just what he was told but Tonee did not reciprocate well to save the relationship. Every time Larry would ask him to go out, Tonee has all the excuse one can come up with. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"I'm tired, I'm cleaning, I wanna stay home and watch DVD, I need to press the clothes"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; So their main activity on Friday is basically &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;general cleaning&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;so &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;hot&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; right?!?&lt;br /&gt;As expected; Larry has grown so bored with all of it. The spark died. The sex - well there were none anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Larry asked for a room to breathe, a space, in short he wants a &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:180%;color:#66cccc;"&gt;"cool off"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; are we still calling it that? The gentle or coward way to end it? From what I have gathered over a caramel macchiato and too many sticks of cigarettes' conversation with Tonee at Starbucks along Jumeirah Beach Road, the deal is; in 2 months they will try to find themselves again separately, they have been a couple for so long that they have lost their individuality. Tonee does not know who he is without associating himself with Larry. Tragic! This decision made Tonee felt like Larry is pushing him away, what he wanted was, to resolve the problem while they are together; he cannot grasp the concept of "independence", he would want to craddle a crippled relationship. After 2 months of soul searching or what have you, they will then decide if they want to get back together.&lt;br /&gt;I tried to explain to Tonee how this thing called &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;"breathing space"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; works. So I began, I said too much togetherness is just as bad as being too far apart. Unless you share absolutely the same interest (which can sometimes be boring) or you are both headed towards the same direction, otherwise it will just eat you alive. Don't think that he is pushing you away; this is an opportunity for both of you to explore your individuality so you can then become an interesting person to each other once again. It’s about finding a way to re-live the spark you once had when he got attracted to you, so attracted he decided to cheat on your best friend with you! &lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(lol I didn't say that out loud)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; But I think I said many things last night that made sense to him because he said &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;"What you said were the same thing that Drew, Benji and even Larry were talking about, I just could not accept and understand it because I felt like I'm being pushed away and punished. Now I know"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;@ 2:30 am I am almost hallucinating due to excessive amount of coffee and cigarette, we decided its time to go to Tonee's new place.&lt;br /&gt;I wish it was not real, tiny elevator, the flat was too small, the mattresses are on the floor and he is sharing a room with 4 girls! The room is small enough for 2 people let alone 5! I cursed Larry, I wish there are some other place where I could take Tonee. I could not bear it. I was screaming in my head. It's not fair! I felt so helpless. I excused myself and told Tonee I have to go because my car wasn't parked properly. I told him I would call him. I could not breathe in the elevator, I am claustrophobic but never mind that, what about Tonee? That poor thing! I called as soon as I drove off to say sorry that I had to go and that he should rest. I promised I would pick him up every Friday night and we'd go wherever he wants to. Maybe in 2 months he is back in our home but that's not even guaranteed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Today I still could not believe that last night did happen. My poor friend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&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/8150957933570740515-5127427328776452652?l=hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/feeds/5127427328776452652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8150957933570740515&amp;postID=5127427328776452652' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/5127427328776452652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/5127427328776452652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/2007/03/tonees-craddle.html' title='Tonee&apos;s Craddle'/><author><name>lois</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05281093722226526759</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/SqT775UfQSI/AAAAAAAAAM0/0iEm1JUCQ9c/S220/P3070072.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8150957933570740515.post-3647873089355441104</id><published>2007-03-21T17:11:00.000+04:00</published><updated>2007-03-22T15:42:20.421+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday Drill</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;On Sunday I met up with Aliya the Emarati Account Executive in one of the Hotels that we frequently use along Sheikh Zayed Road, I have never set foot in that hotel until that night. Normally this show-around-the-hotel meetings are either brunch or just lunch, I decided to make Aliya work late so I made her set our meeting over dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My schedule is considered bizarre in this little place we work and live in, it’s the Monday-Friday work and Saturday-Sunday rest. How weird for most people; how great for me! Since I do not work on Sundays, I don't ever get up till 2pm and that's the earliest I could do. Needless to say I totally forgot Aliya! Well not until she called twice (which I missed) and sent an sms to check. At 3pm still half asleep, I was trying to remember who she was and why was she asking for dinner. Somewhere between watching too many gay tv series and films and getting randomly French kissed in a bar by a wasted chic I asked myself - Have I come out yet? Or most importantly; have I actually become a lesbian overnight? I seriously could not remember why I am having a dinner with a girl!&lt;br /&gt;I have always known I have the tendency to switch teams but it has'nt happened as of yet - and that is something I am certain about. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So as soon as I was able to see straight I called Aliya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Aliya: Allooo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Jess: (confused) Hi, It's Jess, sorry I missed your call, remind me again why we are having dinner?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Aliya: Oh it's only to show the Hotel to you Madam.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jess: (totally relieved) Oh Awesome! YES I'll be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Aliya: Ok I wait for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phew! Man she woke me up big time! All 151cm of me!&lt;br /&gt;So I got up worked out and took a shower!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;@exactly 7:30pm I stepped into the hotel's lobby and she was standing there by the reception all smile and welcomed me with open arms. Sweet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off we began, show around, explain the room's amenities, benefits etc., then restaurant tour. This meeting is fun-(ny) till I saw one bar on the corner and suddenly some supposedly-forgotten-image flashed back! Yep the girl in a bar who raped my face. I shook my head and turned to Aliya who was patiently trying to figure out how to construct a sentence without saying "yani". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Then she said "Ok khalas let's eat dinner". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I smiled and told myself (Oh wow let's do it I'm super hungry!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is so adorable although I must say that if I ever decide to play in the girl's team I don't think I would date her. Let me tell you why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-She's an Emarati&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;- Teeth are not one of my turn ons but it's necessary that those set of teeth are great if not perfect. I won't say what she lacks in that area but don't get me wrong she's got teeth&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;-Although she said &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"I am very open mind"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; I don't think she would go down that road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I can't get over the challenge in conversing with her without laughing in my head and it's mean I know that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are some parts of that meeting that still entertains me like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"Do you sure I cannot meet the clients in bar?"&lt;br /&gt;"Of course I know this - why are you surprising?"&lt;br /&gt;"I told my boss fine! This is your choose and this is my choose and because with that I will not join you anymore in the work so I left"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so guilty for making fun of it because she actually thought that we could totally hangout and be friends - which I absolutely don't mind. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She said "I really enjoy this"  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And I automatically said &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Oh yeah? maybe we could do a road trip sometime" (huh? WTF?) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She loves Al Ain that's why I said that - and I meant it too. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;But I hope that she would not take it seriously though - if one day she does I'll sure tell you - because I might actually overlook the teeth factor!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8150957933570740515-3647873089355441104?l=hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/feeds/3647873089355441104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8150957933570740515&amp;postID=3647873089355441104' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/3647873089355441104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/3647873089355441104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/2007/03/on-sunday-i-met-up-with-aliya-emarati.html' title='Sunday Drill'/><author><name>lois</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05281093722226526759</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/SqT775UfQSI/AAAAAAAAAM0/0iEm1JUCQ9c/S220/P3070072.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8150957933570740515.post-2792929489900045308</id><published>2007-02-22T14:30:00.001+04:00</published><updated>2010-06-30T15:45:30.136+04:00</updated><title type='text'>Kill Tim!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;so...where do we begin...inspired by the brilliant writers such as &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://single-in-dubai.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;S &amp; D &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://dubaidatingchronicles.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Haroun EP...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I have decided to breakaway from my comfort zone and explore my intellectual side (if i even have any)...I am not smart...and I'm not trying to be... I have written things several times already but those were elsewhere... as I browsed through the pages of the wickedly funny blogs I couldn't help but realized that I have been writing some serious depressing melancholy crap all this time...although I know I'm funny but when it comes down to it... my pen and papers - every time I use them they are not laughing...instead they are these 2 gloomy object staring at me urging me to write something tragic...so gloomy that when I was in 7th grade our English teacher asked us to put few words to end a paragraph that begins with &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;"It's Tuesday morning and Tim woke up late! Today is his biggest day for he is set to compete for The Math League......."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; and there I was with my vicious mind and its equally wicked alliance (pen and paper) sitting on the floor of our study room fully equipped with my brilliant story to read to the class in the morning....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as the class begin...we were reminded about our assignment and that each of us will read our story in front of the class...there would be no judging (damn right there were none!)...no right or wrong... so 85% of the class wrote&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;..."Tim ended up late for the Math League and didn't win"...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;some 10% wrote &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"His mom called in to excuse him for the class as he was sick"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;...4% wrote not so interesting-fabricated-juvenile-lame shit and a tiny percent of the class called "me" wrote a completely disturbing ending...so disturbing that I was in counseling for a week...like I’m some sort of a lunatic high on heroin at 12!...I asked them...what do you want from me?!...I’m 12!!!!.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it turned out that...creative writing at 12 is forbidden....that &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;killing Tim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; (and 10 other students in the school bus) in the story from a very tragic and psychotic accident is not supposed to be an idea that a 7th grader should have in her head...what?...i just wrote...Tim hurried up for school...and being the great kid that he is he persuaded his school bus driver friend to take short cuts to keep him from being late from the league...so the driver did...what a great friend...that's when everything started to get really twisted...long story short...the school bus was car napped by 3 gun men...long beard and looked like undertaker (the wrestler! I was 12 gimme a break!!)...anyway they were being chased around by the cops...meanwhile on the other street the back up for the bad guys were on a look out and waiting on them to show up in that haunted warehouse where the other kids were...these kids were to be sold to this other bad guy and he exports them to some remote country and feed them to the gorillas...back to the bus situation...one of the bad guy had his gun pointed on the driver's temple and the other bad guy is singing &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Old &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;McDonald Had a Farm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; to the kids and occasionally shooting outside &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;the window and the 3rd bad guy well... he just kept on shooting at the cops...anyway...as the bus was speeding and approaching the intersection a huge trailer has lost its control and spun in the middle of the junction hitting the school bus where Tim was at and now completely frantic because of the bad guys in the school bus but never forgetting the fact that he is late for the league as well as the obvious that this is all his fault...so all that made Tim really guilty, pressured, scared you name it!...as the Trailer and the bus collided Tim was thrown out the school bus landed on a top of another car… bounced around and as his body was tossed up in the air his limb...rib cage head and legs and arms scattered as it hit the ground...the other student in the bus - they died inside it due to internal bleeding...concussion etc...Tim has a unique and tragic fate...that's cuz he is or should i say was the star in the story...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;having all that story told now that i'm older...I still ask myself this question...did I really deserve to be in counseling/detention for a week for writing it?...you know what sucks...they didn't believe i wrote it!!...so then why the hell are you detaining me?!!!....ahhhh!!! you &amp;amp;amp;amp;^*&amp;amp;%^$!!!....sheeesh...what's a kid gotta do to be taken seriously in this world...and then when I was in college my brother accused me of using drugs because I was listening to&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ratm.net/main.html"&gt;Rage Against The Machine&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; in my room while I was studying for an exam for Political Science...I mean what is with the old people and the automatic accusation of being on drugs all the time!...my brother jinx the band so much that they have disbanded!!! ...and then i got so pissed i quit college...I was clean...I still am...I am probably tidier than a rubbing alcohol or disinfectant ...now that I'm older and acting so weird sometimes cuz i live way too much in my head...no one accuses me of anything anymore...or maybe they are too afraid to say it...LOL!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8150957933570740515-2792929489900045308?l=hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/feeds/2792929489900045308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8150957933570740515&amp;postID=2792929489900045308' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/2792929489900045308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8150957933570740515/posts/default/2792929489900045308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hystericalkingdom.blogspot.com/2007/02/kill-tim.html' title='Kill Tim!'/><author><name>lois</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05281093722226526759</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B3_pOWpwuFE/SqT775UfQSI/AAAAAAAAAM0/0iEm1JUCQ9c/S220/P3070072.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry></feed>
