<?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-8877512981159694863</id><updated>2011-04-22T03:02:08.226+08:00</updated><title type='text'>HAMSTER</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>28</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-7717969099135689765</id><published>2008-09-15T21:22:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T21:43:42.285+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;not too far in but i'm still in. still the pages keep flipping and each time a new page opens in front of me i just carry on doing what i do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Take me down to the paradise city where the grass is green and the girls are pretty. nice line from a great song. suddenly i dont feel so funny anymore. do i? friends leaving and meeting new people, it all balances up. funny what irony i seem to be living in. whatever i did before, i'm living it now. feeling awkward &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;is also a feeling i have seldom felt. now, its people who are younger than be by half my age making me feel that way. anyway, this makes a good script, with ups and downs come every page, paragraph and margin. indeed, the time for seriousness is upon me. why so serious? i cant believe it. i missed that great movie with the tag line why so serious. welcome to the jungle i say. a different kind of jungle. no screaming, no bleeding, just &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;happiness and innocence all around. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;In the jungle, Welcome to the jungle, Watch it bring you to your shun na, na, na, na, na, na, na,na, na, na,na, na knees, knees, I wanna watch you bleed....not so emo nor violent lah. just drifting to another paragraph. sometimes write too long and serious i will get bored. some kind of ignition for excitement is needed. so long never catch up with fellow members of the bookworm club. soon, we will have mass reading sessions again. anyway, silent reading is over. let's just place a bookmark at this unmarked page and come back to it another time. it's time for a different period. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-7717969099135689765?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/7717969099135689765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=7717969099135689765' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/7717969099135689765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/7717969099135689765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2008/09/not-too-far-in-but-im-still-in.html' title=''/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-8000787741067767892</id><published>2008-08-08T23:24:00.011+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-08T23:50:13.970+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the HIGHLIGHT of my life</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(00, 00, 00);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Don’t know why I never learn. Maybe its just something that cant be taught. Tempting fate is no fun. But why did I do it? I could have gotten maimed. Almost died today even. People all around the world are tuning in to catch sport’s biggest event of the year and here I am trying to gamble with my life. I always make them sad. Even if they don’t show it. Luckily today, they didn’t know about it. I really thank whoever is watching over me for the chance to be typing here now. I don’t know how many chances that being will grant me. Soon, it’ll be all used up and the thread will be cut into two. Emotions are funny feelings. At that moment, I tell myself not to do it and a split second later, I do it! Why? I don’t know. Ask those married couples who have just filed for divorce. Some date for over 5 years, get married for 2 months and then severe ties the next day. Why? I also don’t know. I really want to stop tempting fate. But all I do is say it here and then I do nothing about it. When will I stop doing something that will make those around me stop worrying? Today was my lucky day. I really want to stop tempting fate. I will. Starting from this very moment. Higher being, you have my word!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;On a brighter note, I never expected that i would say this. Kids are cute! I used to dislike kids but after teaching them for about a month, they really bring a big smile to my face each time I step into class. Guiding them and explaining to them how to go about doing things….these simple things make me feel happy to have instilled something into their minds. I say this with absolutely no bullshit. Today was their sports day. Seeing them so innocent, being happy and excited over the smallest things makes me wish I could turn back time and become one again. All the sins that I have committed would be washed away with the innocence that came with being a kid. A kid. Being a kid is really the time of your life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;kim is still the best! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;and you have to highlight some things to see them even more clearly.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-8000787741067767892?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/8000787741067767892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=8000787741067767892' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/8000787741067767892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/8000787741067767892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2008/08/dont-know-why-i-never-learn.html' title='the HIGHLIGHT of my life'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-4780851132648317989</id><published>2008-07-15T20:03:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T20:38:16.748+08:00</updated><title type='text'>best</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/SHySLtBhiII/AAAAAAAAAG0/3SmWrICeU1M/s1600-h/kim+the+best.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/SHySLtBhiII/AAAAAAAAAG0/3SmWrICeU1M/s320/kim+the+best.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223210397605136514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no words to say.&lt;br /&gt;kim the best! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THANKS KX FOR YOUR SUPER POWERFUL DSLR NIKON!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-4780851132648317989?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/4780851132648317989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=4780851132648317989' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/4780851132648317989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/4780851132648317989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2008/07/best.html' title='best'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/SHySLtBhiII/AAAAAAAAAG0/3SmWrICeU1M/s72-c/kim+the+best.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-5990676356978506961</id><published>2008-06-30T21:33:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-06-30T22:00:09.996+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>You corner me to say something like - oh how can you live that way. what way? i'm just living life the way it is, my way. it's been going on like this for 24 years already. You think I'm wrong with my pride? what's wrong with pride? sometimes pride makes you do stupid things. it makes us play ego fuelled games of one-upmanship against others who barely give a fish about who we are. the end results will always make yourself go down faster than a thai hooker. this hurts. not outside but inside. is it fate? fate that always pits you against me? fate that always tempts and teases me? but in the end fate just pulls the reality away from me.&lt;br /&gt;But let me tell you I am justified. Look to my left and you'll see where I tried. Look to my right to see the crimes. Look through my past and you'll see all the lies I've lied. And thats why I'm justified. The light passes me by. all this while i have been trying to get this out of my head. I tried to wash myself clean. your soul has since then died in my heart. But let me tell you I am doing fine.&lt;br /&gt;Look in my eyes, you'll see my life of crime. the crime of always having you at the back of my mind. it's been going on for well over 10 years. let me be at peace. let yourself be forgotten. you still look fine. very fine in my eyes. but its just like that. a glimpse, a tease, a tickle. then it's gone. i can't even get a hold of your shadow. it's as if a light has been cast and it has filled the darkness left by your shadow. lost. for now. i feel sorry. for myself. for always having this thought in my head. i always tell myself its a lost cause. my friends echo that thought too. somehow, i just have no real answer to this. truly, i have lost. i have lost the will to forget you.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;am i justified?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-5990676356978506961?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/5990676356978506961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=5990676356978506961' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/5990676356978506961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/5990676356978506961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2008/06/you-corner-me-to-say-something-like-oh.html' title=''/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-2064099072002126163</id><published>2008-06-08T23:14:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-06-08T23:42:43.763+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>how come things go by so fast? i didnt even have time to blink and now the future is right here in front of me. busy? sure am. everybody is busy. sometimes when you want something so bad you never get it. then when you take things for granted, that something you wanted so bad in the first place just slips right through your fingers like fine grains of sand. the things you want break into a million pieces and just slowly fade away. memories also fade away after some time but if you try real hard to recollect, they come back. some others just fade away forever. clouds of sadness and gloom appear over the things you desire the most and always force you to look the other way. you never reach your destination. the road keeps getting longer and the skies grow darker each second. wake up, stretch and you might feel some comfort from the bad dream you had the night before. this dream never goes away, it remains inside the brain of ours always lurking. this dream might be good or bad. that depends on how good a person you are. what kind of conscience you have. flip a page and a new dream emerges. have you been here before. maybe yes and maybe no. thinking of a lot of things lately. at work and at home, things and thoughts return to make my head swirl in a never ending journey of questions. so many questions with no answers stuck to them. should i or should i not. can or cannot. why does the air smell funny. why am i doing what i'm doing. working life pays ok, but there are still things a person wants. no complicated things, simple things.  some people take a lot for granted, like the ability to chew solid food.  yes i do  too. isnt it hypocritical of me, writing  about what people take for granted? i dont know. do you? does anyone? this book had almost reached its final page. hold on tight. i'll hold on. should we start somewhere else? stay here, dont go and i'll go fetch a bookmark. actually we dont need to go far. if its real we'll make it through. how real is it? does it matter? if you stay you'll be left behind. i'll take my chances by staying behind for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-2064099072002126163?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/2064099072002126163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=2064099072002126163' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/2064099072002126163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/2064099072002126163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2008/06/how-come-things-go-by-so-fast-i-didnt.html' title=''/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-500220005403458681</id><published>2008-04-20T03:06:00.007+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T20:38:18.681+08:00</updated><title type='text'>wah i hate Man U. and i love my new job. part time only.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;always so lucky. always score last minute. luck luck luck. fish them man.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/SApDtHmlc3I/AAAAAAAAAFw/Fo7DGW3TYXk/s1600-h/800px-Port_of_Singapore_Keppel_Terminal.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/SApDtHmlc3I/AAAAAAAAAFw/Fo7DGW3TYXk/s320/800px-Port_of_Singapore_Keppel_Terminal.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191035962911978354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Soon, my new work place.&lt;br /&gt;i have to pass a 2 week course first though.&lt;br /&gt;WAH! looks grand hor! looks like a lot of work to do&lt;br /&gt;but then looks like only.&lt;br /&gt;haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/SApEL3mlc4I/AAAAAAAAAF4/iqNnj0gTtuo/s1600-h/Peterbilt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/SApEL3mlc4I/AAAAAAAAAF4/iqNnj0gTtuo/s320/Peterbilt.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191036491192955778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;MY NEW TOY! I GET TO DRIVE THIS! HOW FIERCE MAN!&lt;br /&gt;king of the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;wah i wish i really could drive this beauty loh. Prime movers in singapore&lt;br /&gt;are super dull looking... :(&lt;br /&gt;look below.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/SApElHmlc5I/AAAAAAAAAGA/om-psBTFQEA/s1600-h/Nissan+Contrainer+Truck+-+front+right+99kb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/SApElHmlc5I/AAAAAAAAAGA/om-psBTFQEA/s320/Nissan+Contrainer+Truck+-+front+right+99kb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191036924984652690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;this is something close to what i will be driving.  parking this thing is hell man.&lt;br /&gt;sometimes the tail will go left when you reverse right...&lt;br /&gt;really need skill...which i have, needless to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/SApFjnmlc6I/AAAAAAAAAGI/EXaUeHtG4ac/s1600-h/bb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/SApFjnmlc6I/AAAAAAAAAGI/EXaUeHtG4ac/s320/bb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191037998726476706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Something i took in bangkok. good to see, even better to heed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;....can't sleep. dont know why. just not sleepy. dreaming of joanne peh. its a good dream. but why must she always act in shows which make her as a shady character. she's so pretty, so classy, so elegant, so infinitely &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;BEAUTIFUL&lt;/span&gt;! best dream i ever had. wish i was taller then i would look manly beside her.  eh? i am manly, just that i have not reached the full potential of manliness yet. that's why she chose *** **** hui. he's taller than me only what. maybe its just puppy love. she'll be through with him in no time. and then she will realize what she's been missing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h2 style="text-align: center;"&gt;Blackburn 1-1 Man Utd&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;h2 style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;i hate this scoreline. lucky fishers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;That's why i cant sleep. so i try to think of happy thoughts like joanne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, its time for Mythbusters.  you should watch this. its entertaining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this week, it's &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);font-size:180%;" &gt;Supersized&lt;/span&gt; Myths.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-500220005403458681?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/500220005403458681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=500220005403458681' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/500220005403458681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/500220005403458681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2008/04/wah-i-hate-man-u-and-i-love-my-new-job.html' title='wah i hate Man U. and i love my new job. part time only.'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/SApDtHmlc3I/AAAAAAAAAFw/Fo7DGW3TYXk/s72-c/800px-Port_of_Singapore_Keppel_Terminal.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-8755879247134549058</id><published>2008-04-14T19:39:00.010+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T20:38:19.100+08:00</updated><title type='text'>fuel for thought</title><content type='html'>As a nation, we suck big time. And the worst part? Very few of us actually recognize it, since us Singaporeans prefer sticking our noses and other unmentionable bits into other people's business rather than taking a deep breath and stepping back to reflect on our own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monkey see monkey do may be the cause. babies, young children, i guess, are not likely to know what good is and what the opposite is. As long as the people around them carry on with their daily lives, their offspring will follow suit. It is not hard to spot bad mannered people around. The person writing this entry as of 1947hrs on the 14th of April 2008 is one prime example. Now i am  not saying that my parents and ancestors are at fault for my current mannerisms. there are just too many people and if i don't follow them, maybe i was led to follow somebody else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fact that we have the right of way does not equate  to the right of way. Sometimes, it makes more sense to give way, but our pig headed society always gets in the way of common sense.  Is it the ego thingy again? Could be. For some reason, giving way in this country means losing face, throwing our pride down the drain, let alone swallowing it. Somebody who indicates an intention to do something before us has as much chance of surviving as a full cream chocolate bar at a fat camp. HAHA!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow. in the space of 2 weeks i have been to 2 countries. In a long time too. It feels so good to look down from the skies. People from other counties are super gracious. Crowded shopping malls? Tight back alleys? Everywhere i walked most of the people gave way to me. Even when i  bumped into them, they turned round and - no ugly angry face! Hong Kong and Thailand. Thailand was the better of the 2. Maybe because i went with friends instead of my parents and got much more freedom. Yah it was hot and sweat flowed freely but who cares! The experience was a blast, the local people there were always smiling and the girls there super pretty and naturally and radiantly tan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everywhere we went, pretty girls just seemed to pop up from somewhere. Even without makeup, they were beautiful to look at. The cashier at a random 7-11 was the best. Even the toilet cleaners were pretty! None of that slutty cheap Ah Lians that we here have an abundance of. Sad to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b348/izzytan17/Bangkok/3patpong.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b348/izzytan17/Bangkok/3patpong.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Sounds good? Inside was like shit man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;We were conned! The performers were all old and overweight da bombs! they had all sorts of shows. Ping Pong show, fucking show, banana show.... it would be exciting if the performers were young and sexy. Alas, it was not to be. The ladyboys there were even better looking than the women! If this world were free of diseases, i swear i would climb into bed with one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/SANMc8OgXZI/AAAAAAAAAFg/GAwfKdS00E4/s1600-h/07042008201.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/SANMc8OgXZI/AAAAAAAAAFg/GAwfKdS00E4/s320/07042008201.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189075255747960210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;My so called friends planned a something for me. Till now, where's my ah qua?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/SANNCMOgXaI/AAAAAAAAAFo/bbrSXIIZ7Nk/s1600-h/07042008205.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/SANNCMOgXaI/AAAAAAAAAFo/bbrSXIIZ7Nk/s320/07042008205.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189075895698087330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, ladyboys, bad manners and lava lamps aside, work's going to start soon. really miss school. really miss looking at pretty and beautiful thai girls. really miss not having my ladyboy present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/8877512981159694863-8755879247134549058?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/8755879247134549058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=8755879247134549058' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/8755879247134549058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/8755879247134549058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2008/04/fuel-for-thought.html' title='fuel for thought'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b348/izzytan17/Bangkok/th_3patpong.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-1096444983303064474</id><published>2008-03-28T03:00:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T20:38:19.290+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fiercest?</title><content type='html'>F.I.E.R.C.E?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;too fierce for words. fiercer than bruce lee. pictures speak more than words. i cannot help showing off my fierce-ness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/R-vxyyDf1wI/AAAAAAAAAEw/cSXvh_cWWDk/s1600-h/shoes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/R-vxyyDf1wI/AAAAAAAAAEw/cSXvh_cWWDk/s320/shoes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182501650952083202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;like i said, fierce-ness depends on a person. how he portrays this is hard to type out in words. for me, i choose to portray this by taking pictures of fierce shoes and posting them to show the whole world i mean business. i'm fierce. bruce is here. close the doors, lift that toilet seat up and take the crabs out of the steamer. i'm here to show the world that there is not only bruce lee who is fierce; hamster is here. and fierce he is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-1096444983303064474?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/1096444983303064474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=1096444983303064474' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/1096444983303064474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/1096444983303064474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2008/03/fiercest.html' title='Fiercest?'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/R-vxyyDf1wI/AAAAAAAAAEw/cSXvh_cWWDk/s72-c/shoes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-1844280781411040338</id><published>2008-03-10T23:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T00:54:10.034+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I have something to say - Boredom comes full circle.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;1. All violent criminals are the scum of the earth. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;2. Deep down, we're all conservatives. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;3. Think you’re pure? Hell no, we’re all hypocrites.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;3. Charles Bronson is the man!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt; Disclaimer: This is not sarcasm. It's just the way things are. Read on. It’s the holidays. I got a lot of time sitting around and thinking. And watching movies. Watch Death Wish (1974). You'll know what i mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Once again it's the celebration of the Death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ. Yes, it’s Jesus I’m talking about, the actual longhaired hippie dude from 2000 years ago. For you, He was probably a beacon of light, a symbol of hope and goodness or maybe an icon for the only way to live your life. For me, I’m just writing what I feel. No offence to Him up there. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;When I think back, I remember the guy as the one that scared the shit out of me at my Granduncle’s house when I was a kid because there were pictures and carvings of the guy in his room. No joke, no bullshit. I had a small heart back then. It’s growing bigger now though. What's worse, in every picture he was shown either walking through the streets, bleeding to death or dragging a super huge cross on his shoulder while people flayed the skin off his bones. He was nailed to that chunk of wood with some guy jabbing a spear into his guts too. And if it wasn't the pictures on the wall that had me cowering up my own asshole wanting to go home, it was when I had to go into his room to use the toilet. Cos it was cleaner than the one in the kitchen at that time.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Now, I don't really have much of a beef against any of His true blue believers. It’s just unfair sometimes, when the people who sin get away unpunished.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;But I do have a beef with the naming convention used for this holiday. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The Friday before Easter is the celebration of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ by the Jews, which I think is common knowledge that is blindly accepted by anyone in the Christian world simply because most people don't actually practice their religion and it means a free day off work. Not many people really sit down and think about the history behind the day, and if they did, I am sure it would raise a few eyebrows. Oh so true. So true, you hypocrites out there.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;What is Good Friday? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I remember asking one random friend, who was a ‘Christian’, who replied, "Good Friday is a Christian holiday!"&lt;br /&gt;Another line I heard from, this applies to us all, was quoted as saying, "Good Friday has nothing to do with the Church, and it is simply a day off for families to get ready for the Christian celebration of Easter." &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Damn sure you were right, friends! It’s time to visit church and feast on the muffs and pies of the nubile virgins. Yah, we all know that church is a breeding ground for potential serial rapists and sadists. So many mass cult killings in the past too, all these related to religion. I suppose some people really DO believe, but times change. Hormones change and guess what? People change. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;So much for getting any information from the ‘church goers’. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Of course, there's always the Internet, books and I always have my personal opinion. Crucifixion is simply defined as "An extremely difficult, painful trial; torturous suffering" by some site I found on the Internet. Now, I don't know about you, but the description of this practice sends more than a few shivers down my spine, into each leg and eventually buzzes around in my toes for a few minutes before dissipating into pleasant little sparks that exit from beneath my toenails. How the Hell could they even call it a celebration, for that matter?! Good means happy, and does anyone honestly think that He was saying things like the words I wrote below before getting crucified... &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"WOOHOO! This is great, I'm going to be beaten with metal floggers until my flesh is peeling off my bones, then be forced to drag a half-tonne cross through the boiling hot streets. After that, when I am too exhausted to even talk, I'll experience the joy of having big metal spikes driven through my hands and feet, pinning me to this cross I've been dragging. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;FUCKING COOL! Finally I'll be raised up and exhibited – my manhood covered by a thin piece of loincloth and have a spear driven into my side. WOOHOO… this is SWEET! Give me some more!"&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I doubt it, unless He was into some kinky, sadist fetishes. So why do we celebrate his suffering? Why do we call it 'Good' Friday? Of course, the church doctrines on this give us all sorts of backwards answers, double-talk and excuses such as it stemming from the moniker "God's Friday". I don’t know. Some of what I have written is untrue and part of my exaggeration, but come on, you get the point.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Why do those people go to church so dutifully every Sunday and once they come out, its like unleashing a serial rapist/child molester/pedophile into the classrooms of kindergarten kids and then locking the doors. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;No matter what sort of philosophical talk you give it, Good Friday is still about a guy being beaten to an inch of his life, forced to drag the instrument of his death through the streets in humiliation while being beaten up some more and then savagely nailed to the cross through His arms and feet until He is unconscious, then stabbed in the side to be finished off. If you watched The Passion of the Christ, you'd know what I'm talking about. You can coat it with all the honey and milk chocolate you want, it's still a shitty way to go. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I think Good Friday needs to have an overhaul. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I am sick and tired of shit in this society being sugar coated and written in code so it covers the horrible truths underneath. I think cigarettes should be named after the diseases they cause, I think airlines should be forced to show all the hidden service and extra fees and have them included in the advertised ticket prices and I think women with fake tits should be forced to wear readable labels on their shirts that say '90% silicon, 10% real tissue'. And I think Good Friday should be renamed something more appropriate to portray its historical meaning. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Something like, "What a fucking horrible and painful way to die" Day. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Of course, these are not final decisions and I would invite anyone to chair a meeting and run through a few other ideas, but it's a start. The point is, Christianity has always covered up the truth with cutesy names, elaborate ceremonies and catchy advertisments to keep the seats filled and the donations rolling in and it's time to stop shrouding the truth and embrace the horrible shit that their faith is built upon. Describe in vivid details the murder of all the first-born sons and describe how God is a vengeful bastard when it comes to fucking with his divine plan. KILL THE FUCKING JAYWALKERS WHO INTENTIONALLY STEP IN FRONT OF A CAR WHEN IT’S ABOUT TO MOVE OFF, YOUNG OR OLD, FUCKING KILL THEM! &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Stop covering up all the tragedies and criminal acts in the Bible with confusing linguistics and broken speech. If you're going to revise the stories, do it properly and put it into true and honest speech so that everyone can understand just how "good" Good Friday is and just how "good" the Good Book is. Yah I know there are standards of English to be maintained, but come on, isn’t religion supposed to be understood by everyone, even a commoner like me? What if I can’t read? Then how am I supposed to help these ‘pure people’ spread the good faith? Am I fucked for being unable to read and understand? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="basefont"&gt;If you are anything like I am, and on a less violent, abrasive and outspoken level you probably are, you more than likely get fed up with the constant barrage of useless rants by me. But the truth is, there are hypocrites and sinners out there waiting to die. These shit stains are smeared in our faces everywhere we look, like shit forced into a dog’s face by its owner when it drops a load on that wonderful floor that you’ve just mopped clean, but we say and do nothing because we simply can’t. There are laws. We can’t bend laws, can we? We just have to sit and wait for those pig fuckers to go home and rape their own mothers. These people have caused more than a simple gag reflex in us, a full on projectile vomit fest that took weeks to mop up. You may agree with what I write and you may not, but remember this always - If you do not agree with the views expressed by me on this site, let me remind you that you can simply ‘Fuck Off’. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Happy GOOD FRIDAY in advance to everyone, and I hope you had a wonderful "Holy living mother of God this is a really shitty way to die" Day. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-1844280781411040338?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/1844280781411040338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=1844280781411040338' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/1844280781411040338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/1844280781411040338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-have-something-to-say-boredom-comes.html' title='I have something to say - Boredom comes full circle.'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-2936881475407018340</id><published>2008-02-23T14:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-23T14:15:53.554+08:00</updated><title type='text'>all because of DA BOMB</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt;Your power of faith can help you to achieve what you want in life.The purpose of life is to help you build character and wisdom through experience. There will always be adversity to overcome, obstacles to clear and problems to solve. A person's success depends greatly on his/her faith. If you think you can succeed, yes you can, if you think you cannot succeed, yes you CAN'T.&lt;br /&gt;That's how powerful your faith will work for you. The extent of an achievement that a person can bring to his/her life is the measure of the faith within that person. When there is no faith, then the person life will be feeble and lacking in achievement. When there is faith, then great achievement will follow that person.&lt;br /&gt;The power of faith is illimitable and inexhaustible. All that is required is an unquenchable belief and trust in it. The weakest and most timid person can make use of this power. There is the same power in the timid and weak as in the brave and strong. The weakness of the former is due to a lack of faith and belief in the infinite power within them.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt;Our happiness and true success depend upon how the troubles and difficulties of life are met.  Adversity comes to all, but if it is met in the right manner, even failure can be made the stepping stone to success. Trouble comes to all but while it makes some people stronger and better in every way, it can submerges others so that they never rise again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt;So how come my dad did not tio the 10million toto jackpot when he has been such a loyal supporter of toto with infinite amounts of faith in it? i also have faith in him that he will tio, but why it never happen huh? sadness man. pure, utter, super undeniable sadness. maybe its retribution for saying DA BOMB....she still is what. last night even more super DA FUCK'IN BOMBS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"&gt;no more GT-R. no more king of the road :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;no more Swift Sport to cheong with :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-2936881475407018340?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/2936881475407018340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=2936881475407018340' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/2936881475407018340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/2936881475407018340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2008/02/all-because-of-da-bomb.html' title='all because of DA BOMB'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-8707100186244096095</id><published>2008-02-22T11:35:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T20:38:19.623+08:00</updated><title type='text'>DA BOMB</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/R75M85eiFNI/AAAAAAAAAD4/1T9cUelBbIo/s1600-h/nikkifa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/R75M85eiFNI/AAAAAAAAAD4/1T9cUelBbIo/s320/nikkifa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169654031372653778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;IT'S DA FREAK'IN BOMB?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her head was beginning to spin. The small dark, fine printed words on the thin pale page belonging to the thick maroon book of How to be DA BOMB were starting to blur, clustering into a jumbled group of unreadable letters. She sighed, rubbing her throbbing temples before flipping to another page. Outside, the sun struck post noon, its bright light seeping through the half-open window blinds, illuminating the scarlet wooden dressers, bookshelves, and her striped emerald bed in the tidy white room. Allegedly it was supposed to be one of the hottest days of the year, however, she couldn’t tell; the air conditioner was running. Turning to the window, she lifted the window blinds, pressing her face to the surprisingly warm flexible glass. She frowned, disgruntled.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;then, Da Bomb went back to sleep. Jump to the next paragraph. i'm sick of writing intros, now lets get into the fat of the story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fat jokes aside now. just saw a movie, a really good movie with no fat people in it. no da bombs. i like the story and the way it was shot. the longer it went on, the more i felt something towards it. maybe because there were no da bombs in it or maybe the girl resembled another girl in my class, i just cant put a finger on it. i really got into the story. cos it resembled an earlier part of my life. i was thinking in my head if this were me, i'd be over the moon if my fate ever ended up like the one in the movie.&lt;br /&gt;then i thought. is this person really worth my effort? not talking about helping da bomb lose some kilos or what,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAT JOKES ASIDE PLEASE! CONCENTRATE ON WRITING THIS PASSAGE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okok, really at the end, i came to a conclusion that this whole time i spent waiting was worth nothing. take skimpy photos of yourself more and whore yourself out to overweight da bombs everywhere. take your face and mop the floor up with it. brrrr....the world is getting colder. i feel cold. the fat jokes in my head are beginning to freeze and fall off. humans are weak. bruce is tough. da bomb is the ultimate hottest sensation in school. and the bear in my car is stupid. i dont like these moments, but if you ever come across this and see what i have written and you say abnormal things that drunk women would say, then i still wont feel a thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cue emo music. let me go sit in a corner. dim the lights. the river of tears flow freely from my heart and out from my eyes. i lay in a fetal position. the world outside is cold and cruel. emo moment over. the sun rises and the birds chirp freely. it's a bright new day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i also wish my good friend, my fair friend, my pretty friend, my hot friend, my fat friend ty happy birthday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-8707100186244096095?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/8707100186244096095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=8707100186244096095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/8707100186244096095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/8707100186244096095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2008/02/da-bomb.html' title='DA BOMB'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/R75M85eiFNI/AAAAAAAAAD4/1T9cUelBbIo/s72-c/nikkifa.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-2051533605611274251</id><published>2008-02-10T00:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-10T00:37:13.411+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Most Stupid</title><content type='html'>A single word or tone or facial expression can send a man into a hole so deep you’d have better luck finding leopards in leotards. A man’s ego is vulnerable, especially (but not exclusively) to a woman he finds value in, such that he could be crushed, even by accident. Crushed meaning he gets into a rut wherein he never accesses his emotions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The very same ego that could be crushed by the tone of a woman’s voice, can also drive the man perform some of the most heroic, selfless, and bordering on miraculous acts ever imagined. It is this same ego that when faced with peril, impossibility, or certain doom, says, “WHAT THE FISH…” and runs into the water, braving the man eating fishes that lurk there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The complexity comes when trying to understand how to deal with this incredibly powerful and sensitive force called the male ego. This has mystified women for centuries, and I suggest will continue to for centuries to come. i'm still confused myself. It’s not as mystifying to the men themselves. It’s not that they have themselves figured out, but it is harder to know that there is mystery when you are the mystery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like today. i forgot something so basic like filming the colour charts before going for the actual take. It felt very stupid, knowing that this IS the foundation for every take... I felt stupid. So stupid that i took my anger out on some woman driver who wanted to cut into my lane. The strange thing is, i was feeling down and dumb at first...then when the woman flashed her headlights at me, i experienced a roid raging moment. i don't know how or why, it just happened. next thing i knew, i felt like a hero, riding on a wave of swear words not even known by the people who publish the Oxford Dictionary every year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;exactly what i was saying above....the male ego is a strange mystery. i'm always telling myself to grow up and all. seems that all i do now is roid rage whenever i'm alone in the car. males are stupid childish assholes, always thinking of winning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the others out there, I wish I could give you the key to the male ego. I can’t. But here are some guidelines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Your efforts to control it or manipulate it depends on yourself. Be rash and you will fail. one day i will piss someone off and i will get hacked or beaten or roid raged to death by some random roider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Affirmimg without partonizing is a tightrope act that is worth the effort to perfect. The male ego is fuled on affirmation. However, it must the right kind of affirmation. wah, so deep. i amaze myself sometimes....come on, i DO have my moments :)&lt;br /&gt;See? male ego talking again. i never learn, do i?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. If you think the male ego is all about sex, you’re wrong. Sometimes sex is all a man has to fall back on because he has no other outlet for his expression of power - besides anger. When you find a man finding meaning in his work, a passion for his art, a vision for his children, or something that engages his ability to matter, then is he going to want to have lots of sex? Of course he will still want that. However, since he has many outlets, there is a different meaning to the desire. He does not have to rely upon sex and sex alone for satisfaction in his life. Sex then can carry a healthy level of life satisfaction and love expression. if there's no sex, just turn on the computer and surf the net for porn. simple. fast. effective. safe. happy time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that’s enough for today. Tomorrow we’re going to talk about sexy women. Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;wait. i already mentioned the allure of the fair woman.&lt;br /&gt;let's talk about the allure of the chubby Ah Pui.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-2051533605611274251?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/2051533605611274251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=2051533605611274251' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/2051533605611274251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/2051533605611274251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2008/02/most-stupid.html' title='Most Stupid'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-6838605263472970033</id><published>2008-01-23T02:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T20:38:19.996+08:00</updated><title type='text'>thanks</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;it's done now. the thing that has kept me and others up for countless nights is over. now we roll forward into the post production stage. &lt;div&gt;i'm happy and sad too. &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;happy that i managed to finish my shoot with minimal problems and happy to see people smiling on our set. really, when a person smiles in a crowd of frowns, it really makes a difference. this is one project that i really really enjoyed. seeing peoples' faces after completing each cock shot from my shot list made me laugh inside. some shots were tough yet they still did it.  i really appreciate the effort that you guys put in. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;sad that some of my friends had to go through more than what i did to get things moving. i felt it too. the pain of trying to get something done when others are not helping. doing someone else's work just to get the film going. these are the downs in life but after this, there will always be something better at the end of the road. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;seeing them strive for the best through tears and sweat made me realize that this was the time, that time where everyone was near the finishing line. one last sprint and that was it. i really wished that we could have done something to help, but we cant be at 2 places at the same time. this is a project that everyone should be proud of. this is what you have done. really, just go for it. because, there is always &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A Better Tomorrow. &lt;/span&gt;:)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;many thanks to the people who have helped our group in the completion of our film.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;they are - &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Pamela, Kai Xiang, Kang Sheng, Deborah, Chia Sin, Kavin, Ben, Joanne,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; Adelene, Audrey, Sammy, Kwang Wei, Desh, Daryl, Don, Jolene, CJ and Benson. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;hope i never miss out anyone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;the crew - Yvonne, Marcus, TY, Sean, Daniel, Rainkun and Anthony.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/R5Y7_4h0-7I/AAAAAAAAADI/NbMrxTuUwsc/s320/A-better-tomorrow-wrap.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158376391891549106" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;BALA to you all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;May you all have HARD ONs for leotards in years to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&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/8877512981159694863-6838605263472970033?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/6838605263472970033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=6838605263472970033' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/6838605263472970033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/6838605263472970033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2008/01/thanks.html' title='thanks'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/R5Y7_4h0-7I/AAAAAAAAADI/NbMrxTuUwsc/s72-c/A-better-tomorrow-wrap.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-8850160906948857581</id><published>2008-01-09T12:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-09T15:51:51.076+08:00</updated><title type='text'>JOURNEY</title><content type='html'>We convince ourselves that life will be better after we get married, have a baby, then another. Then we are frustrated that the kids aren't old enough and we'll be more content when they are. After that, we're frustrated that we have teenagers to deal with. We will certainly be happy when they are out of that stage. We tell ourselves that our life will be complete when our spouse gets his or her act together, when we get a nicer car, are able to go on a nice vacation, when we retire. The truth is, there's no better time to be happy than right now. If not now, when?&lt;br /&gt;Your life will always be filled with challenges. It's best to admit this to yourself and decide to be happy anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This perspective has helped me to see that there is no way to happiness. Happiness is the way. So, treasure every moment that you have and treasure it more because you shared it with someone special, special enough to spend your time...and remember that time waits for no one.&lt;br /&gt;So... stop waiting until you finish school, until you go back to school, until you lose ten pounds, until you gain ten pounds, until you have kids, until your kids leave the house, until you start work, until you retire, until you get married, until you get divorced, until Friday night, until Sunday morning, until you get a new car or home, until your car or home is paid off, until spring, until summer, until fall, until winter, until you are off welfare, until the first or fifteenth, until your song comes on, until you've had a drink, until you've sobered up, until you die, or until you are born again to decide that there is no better time than right now to be happy.&lt;br /&gt;Happiness is a journey, not a destination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FISHERY FRIENDS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In kindergarten your idea of a good friend was the person who let you have the red crayon when all that was left was the ugly black one.&lt;br /&gt;In primary 1 your idea of a good friend was the person who went to the toilet with you as you walked through the scary halls.&lt;br /&gt;In primary 2 your idea of a good friend was the person who helped you cheat in homework.&lt;br /&gt;In primary 3 your idea of a good friend was the person who shared their snacks with you.&lt;br /&gt;In primary 4 your idea of a good friend was the person who was willing to help you do your homework.&lt;br /&gt;In primary 5 your idea of a friend was the person who saved a seat on the bus for you.&lt;br /&gt;In primary 6 your idea of a friend was the person who went up to your crush, and asked her to talk with you, so that if she said no you wouldn't have to be embarrassed.&lt;br /&gt;In secondary 1 your idea of a friend was the person who always knew what you wanted during recess.&lt;br /&gt;In secondary 2 your idea of a good friend was the person who sat beside you on a bus and listened to your angry rants about having a strict curfew.&lt;br /&gt;In secondary 3 your idea of a good friend was the person who went with you to that "cool" party so you wouldn't wind up being the only fisherman there.&lt;br /&gt;In secondary 4 your idea of a good friend was the person who changed their schedule so you would have someone to sit and study with at McDonalds or the airport.&lt;br /&gt;In poly year 1 your idea of a good friend was the person who sat with you in the canteen looking at year 1 girls walking by.&lt;br /&gt;In the first 3 months of army your idea of a good friend was the person who ran with you and made sure that you got to go home every weekend.&lt;br /&gt;In the final year of army your idea of good friends were the people who gave you a sense of new found freedom when you went out with them.&lt;br /&gt;In early poly years (again...haha) your idea of good friends were the people who went out of their way to come over and re assure you that you would make it in life as well as you had these past three years.&lt;br /&gt;And finally during those last days of being in poly, your idea of good friends hugged you as you looked through blurry eyes at three years of memories you were leaving behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, your idea of a good friend(s) is &lt;strong&gt;still&lt;/strong&gt; the person who -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gives you the better of the two choices.&lt;br /&gt;Holds your hand when you're scared.&lt;br /&gt;Helps you fight off those who try to take advantage of you.&lt;br /&gt;Thinks of you at times when you are not there.&lt;br /&gt;Reminds you of what you have forgotten.&lt;br /&gt;Helps you put the past behind you but understands&lt;br /&gt;when you need to hold on to it a little longer.&lt;br /&gt;Stays with you so that you have confidence.&lt;br /&gt;Goes out of their way to make time for you.&lt;br /&gt;Helps you clear up your mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;Helps you deal with pressure from others.&lt;br /&gt;Smiles for you when you are sad.&lt;br /&gt;Helps you become a better person.&lt;br /&gt;However most importantly never forgets you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-8850160906948857581?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/8850160906948857581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=8850160906948857581' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/8850160906948857581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/8850160906948857581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2008/01/journey.html' title='JOURNEY'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-3242036520137389395</id><published>2007-12-17T11:11:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-17T11:52:28.460+08:00</updated><title type='text'>peace with the inner fiend in the mirror</title><content type='html'>a woman is like a diamond - she has to be cut to be beautiful.not hollywood beautiful, just look closer to home. mother. you'll agree that self sacrifice and suffering do somehow transfigure a woman and make her more beautiful. but when i first heard this expression, it was not the discussion of anything vaguely related to some shit like world peace or procreation. the person i heard talking, with a hint of irritation and defiance, was going on about plastic surgery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the conversation went something like that - " i looked like a monster you know! it's like i was born with an 'F' on my beauty card. So what if i secretly wrote a 'D' over it?" demanded this woman. "some women are so ready to judge us because they feel like we're cheated. but you didn't know this: i cut through my own skin and bone, without resorting to magic tricks to become BEAUTIFUL!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok so this vain old auntie ( not the school auntie) goes on and on about being beautiful. but i felt something else. before you go saying that the auntie was just plain obsessed, tell me this: have you ever felt ugly before? have you ever looked in the mirror only to find a fiend staring back? i have. sometimes, for the longest time, i was convinced that i was one of the ugliest human beings ever to roam the earth. i had crooked teeth, my nose looked like what you would find in a kway chap bowl and my skin was so rough an ant would simply trip and fall while walking over it. i was a fiend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if you ask me now what it was like to feel ugly, i'd say it's the most self effacing experience in the world. i would avoid looking into mirrors and places with reflective surfaces. i developed an allergic reaction to the camera because i did not want to leave any evidence behind. i almost totally avoided people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;last time, cosmetic enhancement was the reality for people in hollywood and korea. all i could do was maintain my self enforced exile, soaking in my own misery until i found a new bowl of misery to jump into.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today, everything can be fixed, for a bit of money. the average joe and jane can make a date with the surgeon and emerge looking like a million dollars. i think that our decade now holds the record for the most aesthetic procedures ever done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this whole thing circles back to the conversation of that vain middle aged auntie. why would women cut themselves up? men sometimes but the topic was about a vain auntie first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i thought about this issue, and last night, i looked at all the beautiful women backstage. i wondered if 20 years down the road, would any of them really step into the dark side? some have aged gracefully, the others are vibrant with youth, sparking intensely and lighting up the stage with their infinite amounts of charm. but this is all superficial. it's like the old saying - don't judge a book by its cover.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;is this plastic movement a quest to find the other fabled counterpart? a partner of equal beauty but zero character? an apple ripe on the outside but rotten at the core?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO! why? because if you gave me the best surgeons in the world and stylists - God Forbid! - i'm never going to take that route. i'm going to say the most damning thing just to get it out of the way - i love my kway chap ingredient nose, the hairs in it. i like my lopsided eyelids and i love my big face very much! i adore my high pitched 'GO LA! GO LA!' voice to bits. it sounds so sweet to the ears that listening to it excessively will give you diabetes. and if you think that's disgusting, i don't care man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that being said, if you're still hell bent on following in the footsteps of that vain auntie due to the advancement of medical science to make up for nature's sloppiness, i won't presume to judge you either. i would rather have an apple core than a really red apple which is swollen with with maggots as a friend. all i have to say is this - at some point, all this is going to stop. you have to make peace with the fiend in the mirror. the truth has always been in the mirror since the day you first looked in it. and you're going to have to say "well, this IS me."&lt;br /&gt;i know, because i have.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-3242036520137389395?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/3242036520137389395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=3242036520137389395' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/3242036520137389395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/3242036520137389395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2007/12/peace-with-inner-fiend-in-mirror.html' title='peace with the inner fiend in the mirror'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-7660123530259966789</id><published>2007-11-29T03:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-29T03:40:26.521+08:00</updated><title type='text'>time</title><content type='html'>time passes really fast. really. im old. i feel old. i look old. no la those are just words of self pity. im handsome. im muscular. im tall. haha now i feel better. so i'll write something with more sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but really, time passes fast. the other week someone had her birthday. today, a fisher had his birthday. he was so happy with the present we got for him that he rushed home to enjoy it instead of having dinner with us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i used to think that blogs were a waste of time. in year one, i did not even know what a blog was! wah lau, a real mountain uncle. yah, auntie you are right. i am an uncle. there are lots of things that i want to do. later then i say about those things again. im just typing now because i dont have any ideas for a piece of work now. the world is really spinning too fast man. soon, all these friends that i know will be enlisted and the othes will go off to work. contacts will be lost. why? i seem childish. some will say, in life you lose friends and make new ones. yah its true. i felt sad when i left primary school. those were some of the best years of my little life then. secondary school life was the worst phase of my life. in my previous i wrote about posers. i was one too, way back in secondary school. in a group of people, we seemed tough. invincible. until one incident made me realise what a real chicken shit i was at that time. everyone around me was affected. how affected? very affected. then the army called and i had to obey brother lee's law. in there, i really understood brotherhood. there was a code of honour. wah i talk like im in some gang, got code of honour some more. actually its got one la, but not to the extent of code of honor. i just adding those words for some seh only. you read also you laugh right?but brotherhood was real. it lasted almost 2 years with those brothers. you watch my back and i watch yours.that was a real experience. now i hear pre enlistes saying they want to fake an injury to escape the hardship? if you truly have this attitude, i feel sorry.  anyway, those brothers are married with kids now and im still in school. so that proves im young! yay! poly life is also geat. tho it has not come to an end yet, it soon will. i made fisher friends here in poly. recently added some fishtresses to that list too. wah, i have typed so much already. better log off cos hamster at the top is getting real tired. let him eat his corn in peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WAH! THIS BLOG CAN AUTO SAVE WHAT I JUST WROTE!  wah lau, i fell asleep and this page is still here 1 hr later. wah im really an uncle man. now type also can fall asleep. ok now i will post it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-7660123530259966789?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/7660123530259966789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=7660123530259966789' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/7660123530259966789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/7660123530259966789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2007/11/time.html' title='time'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-7720885577585650620</id><published>2007-11-19T23:38:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T15:24:22.502+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i heard something today. something said by a person. this mirrors exactly what i heard a few months ago from another person. now it makes me wonder. is it better to be a little more of a bastard than who i am now? these people really hit the spot when they said that i am an idiot.&lt;br /&gt;i really think so too. i sound emo, but im not emo. i just think that this is really confusing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on one hand, the cards say that i should be who i am. am i helping people so that they wont get angry with me if i cross them in any way? is this a way to cover my backside?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the other deck of cards say that i should be a bastard sometimes. i see people in need of help and should i help them? no, cos others will see this as an opportunity and make use of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;its so hard to see through the words that these people have told me. i sometimes really want to help to the best of my extent but if there is nothing i can do i will say i cant. super confusing, im killing my brain cells over this. its hard being human. maybe i should ask hamster what all this means. hamster is only a picture. he cant answer me except make he see how ridiculously cute he is chewing on that grain of corn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nevermind, i think i'll take the alternative route and be more of the latter.&lt;br /&gt;see how it goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;before i forget, happy birthday to my friend, an old lady who just celebrated her 61st birthday.&lt;br /&gt;happy birthday for 2008 and beyond!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-7720885577585650620?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/7720885577585650620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=7720885577585650620' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/7720885577585650620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/7720885577585650620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2007/11/fuckers-real-meaning-of-who-they-are.html' title=''/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-6975420683319928935</id><published>2007-11-02T23:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-03T00:17:23.517+08:00</updated><title type='text'>LEOTARDS! Shread them la...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;As the questions arise and the solutions beg no answers, that is where HAMSTER steps in. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Questions…..&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Going to the gym is a good thing. It’s a good place to make friends but how many of us men go there to socialize? It’s the basketballs and volleyballs that we want to see unwrapped from their oh-too-tightly-bound covers. Bouncy and jiggly. Apple big big&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;apple small small apple many sizes….Apple big big juicy juicy apple small small useless. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But as usual, There are distractions.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Some people go to the gym to annoy others. Their sole purpose in life is to annoy gym users with their constant bravery babble about which girl to conquer and which part of the body to tattoo. They talk like they own the law too. These medal of honour soldiers talk tough and look tough. Really? Come on man, it’s highly embarrassing to be caught with your pants down, but hey! YOU WERE GETTING IT ON WHEN YOU GOT CAUGHT! Instead, these puberty deprived steroid devourers go on and on about it. Truth is, it’s really scary to be involved in a police case, no matter how minor the case may seem. And while talking, they are busy flexing in front of the mirrors! Make up your minds you bravehearts. Do you want to conquer muff valley or just force your nipples through your singlets?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Another thing that annoys us are the branded people. These people go to a gym, yes, and all they do is stand in model poses while clad in the latest sports apparel. Huh?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If you sport the look and build of Arnold Schwarzenegger, ok I shut up. But hey, face reality guys, you weigh little more than the hamster at the top of my blog.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;These anorexic people also crowd round the free weights section and always take on the heaviest of weights….don’t show off this way guys. Want to show off strength? Both mental and physical? Go make love to a pig that I know. After that session, if you get through it, I bow to you.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;People….Red hairs especially…..not all, just some rotten eggs….&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;How come we are taught not to hate other races in school, but assholes from a country of presumably higher standards of education can do the opposite? Is there a thrill in taping a poor old man on video and making a big joke about it? Is it a triumph to laugh at old people? Not only do the red hairs do that, local people do that too. Why? Won’t you grow old too one day? For the three red hairs that did this, hooray yippie fucking do! You’re winners in your own context! “We were insensitive. Bullies? No!” NOT A BULLY?? Then why pick on an old man? Why not try this with local people along Geylang? You’re red hairs, you’ve got good genes which make you tower above everyone. Why pick on an old man making an honest living? &lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I really can’t stand it when foreigners come here and try to act like gods even though they are the minority. To bully a helpless old man and run off after not paying a cent is really pushing it. And there were 3 of you against him…yah, you’re heroes! &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And the answers……&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Completely no link……leotards are for FRENCH ARISTOCRATIC LOVING TWO FACED FAGGOTS and PIGS WITH FLAPS OF FATS FOR EYELIDS AND BAD STAMINA. Nobody likes them, everyone hates them. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color:red;"&gt;Don’t wear leotards.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-6975420683319928935?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/6975420683319928935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=6975420683319928935' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/6975420683319928935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/6975420683319928935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2007/11/leotards-shread-them-la.html' title='LEOTARDS! Shread them la...'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-4941291040520100867</id><published>2007-10-26T19:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T20:38:20.379+08:00</updated><title type='text'>one fast car, 3 stupid people</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RyHQ4AiwiUI/AAAAAAAAACo/fngB2T63wUk/s1600-h/10.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RyHQ4AiwiUI/AAAAAAAAACo/fngB2T63wUk/s320/10.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5125607511561374018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just zoomed past me.  even i try to catch up and see him also no use.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;A story about the longevity threesome&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;life is short, enjoy it to the max. yah some people really take that phrase to heart man. lunch also want to eat 2 hours. why so long?. cos they want to enjoy life to the max! eat every grain of rice, drink every drop of soup.....maybe they want to make up for past wrong doings so they go about taking 1hr to order food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a normal order goes like this&lt;br /&gt;ME - auntie! chicken chop add egg.&lt;br /&gt;Auntie - OK. eating here or ta bao?&lt;br /&gt;Me -eat here.&lt;br /&gt;conversation ends and auntie serves me the food. i walk away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for the 3 people who want to live life to the max, an order goes like this -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LONGEVITY THREESOME - auntie, how are you? did you shit this morning? was it hard or soft? what colour? how you wash backside after that? use hose splash water or use toilet paper? after that got flush the shit down the toilet? blah blah blah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AUNTIE - eh....&lt;br /&gt;so the longevity threesome goes about asking everything from why the earth is round to why a camera must have a battery in it to work BEFORE placing orders for 3 chicken chops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people will ask why i'm writing this......Yah i tell you it's no fun waiting almost 3 hours for just a camera. and when you're hungry and pissed, nothing angers you more when you see 3 fully fed people stroll into the room. and they ask me, '' WAH YOU SO FAST?"&lt;br /&gt;ok maybe i must learn to enjoy life to the fullest, but i'm not a uncle yet. i dont have a belly and my hair isnt white.  i dont have erectile dysfunction and i sure as hell dont have to get up every half hour at night to piss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so here's a life lesson. its ok to be pissed. some people fully deserve the wrath of our anger. but as people lower down the pecking order, we cant do a lot. if we raise our voices, one complain letter and we're fished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so take a deep breath and say these words whenever your pissed -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;HOUGANG, CANING, TAKE CUP/TAKE CLOTH, SMELLY, CHEESE PIE, LONG JOHN. LIFE JOURNAL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BREAK THE PENCILS!, HIDE THE PAPER CLIPS AND STEAL THE MAGNETISM FROM THAT STUPID MAGNET!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/8877512981159694863-4941291040520100867?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/4941291040520100867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=4941291040520100867' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/4941291040520100867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/4941291040520100867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2007/10/one-fast-car.html' title='one fast car, 3 stupid people'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RyHQ4AiwiUI/AAAAAAAAACo/fngB2T63wUk/s72-c/10.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-2309146444364524260</id><published>2007-09-14T10:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T20:38:20.922+08:00</updated><title type='text'>RETARDED PEDESTRIANS, Posers and fake-uers, Skanks, Tarts and chicken pies</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/Run1spHP8KI/AAAAAAAAACY/_qDbR-ROYJ8/s1600-h/2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/Run1spHP8KI/AAAAAAAAACY/_qDbR-ROYJ8/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109885399527846050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;RETARDED PEDESTRIANS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Walking is healthy. In fact, I remembered not too long ago there was this keep fit campaign that told you to alight one bus stop earlier and walk home from there. This was supposed to promote walking as a healthy alternate way to keep fit. Ok, I did it. And I walked damn far too….just to keep fit and loose a few pounds. I crossed many roads to get home, jay walking across them many times. So did the aunties, uncles, school kids, maids, laborers, barbers, cats, dogs and even the handicapped bird. They all did it, causing other drivers to brake suddenly and swerve to avoid them. Last time I swore revenge at any driver who honked at me while I jay walked. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Now I perfectly understand it. Jaywalking is a way of life here for many Singaporeans. People jaywalk to see their girlfriends, go jogging and even to pick up that 10 cent coin across the road. The thing is, these jaywalkers are retards. Some jaywalk a mere 10 meters away from a zebra crossing. Seems like if babies had the strength in their arms, they would push their own prams across the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Heck care granny and the maid they say. Let’s learn to jay walk before I can even crawl they say!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Jay walkers are road hazards. There should be a law to jail and cane them for jay walking. Why? These ignorant retards simply cross with little regard, tempting fate and causing grief for other drivers. It’s fine if they have no care for their lives and want to end it quick, but think of the drivers who have to constantly be on the look out for these kamikaze pedestrians. Once drivers hit them, they claim everything from a chipped toenail to a lost strand of hair! Touch wood, if there is a fatality, who gets the blame? Even if the deceased had jay walked and this led to his/her death, the driver would be at fault for not keeping an eye out for the retards. The driver has to accept responsibility, live with regret and remorse and PAY for that idiot’s funeral? Feed that corpse to the pigs man! That retard deserved it! He/she wanted to tempt fate, so that day, fate won. What’s wrong with that? &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;Like what I said above about fatties, these porkers are slow on their feet due to the massive weight that they are. And yet they insist on jay walking, lumbering across 3 lane roads. Just drive along &lt;st1:street st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:address st="on"&gt;Orchard Road&lt;/st1:address&gt;&lt;/st1:street&gt;, see what I mean. These fatties could not even run to save their lives, what makes them think they can react fast enough to oncoming traffic. Unless they are built tough as tanks, I have nothing to say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Posers and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;fake-uers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I support &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Liverpool&lt;/st1:place&gt;. I own the jerseys. I don’t print players’ names behind it. I drive my family car. It’s a Subaru. I don’t make it out to be another brand. I am born in &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Singapore&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;. I think most of us are too. I speak with a local slang, proudly filled with Singlish, with a capital ‘S’. Yah I’m proud of what I am and own. It used to be this way. Now, posers and fakers are popping up everywhere. Over the phone, you don’t know if you’re speaking to either a Caucasian, an African, or an Asian. Most people I’ve seen think the white skinned people are gods and their blood is blue. So true, sadly oh so true. At restaurants, the waiter with yellow skin, slit eyes and jet black hair asks if you’d like another glass of water, with an accent that sends chills down your spine. You shiver, questioning and pinching yourself. Is this a dream, are you in a Caucasian filled country? NO! reality bites and that waiter in front of you is just trying to sound&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;high class. He obviously is ashamed of his own race, so he seeks to find acceptance by imitating other races. If he’s too poor for plastic surgery, all he can do is try and fake an &lt;i style=""&gt;ang moh&lt;/i&gt; accent. Hey, it’s free. So why not. I don’t get it. Are the &lt;i style=""&gt;ang mohs&lt;/i&gt; really above us? Even they get better treatment on board flights. It happens too, at shops. Asian shop keepers at Orchard road would rather tend to that albino couple first than face our ugly Asian faces. Go figure. Will people really look up to you more if you speak with an &lt;i style=""&gt;ang moh&lt;/i&gt; accent? Some vomit a whole speech of errors while trying to get your attention. I just feel sorry for the ethically confused person and stand there entertaining him, just to see if that person will finally find his true ethical roots.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; Not only that, posers are on the roads too. They drive family oriented cars and make them out to be rally bred road warriors.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Skanks, Tarts and chicken pies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Short skirts. Tube tops. All neon coloured. Super tight too. Fishnet stockings with 5 inch wedges? Look around. The youth community is flooded with these tarts. Or wannabe tarts. Either way, sweet young things known as little prepubescent girls just out of primary school are dressing as if the whole of &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Singapore&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; was Geylang. They do this not only at night my friend. During 9-5 working hours, they appear out of nowhere, cat walking with a juggle in their skinny butts. Yah, if they had J-Lo’s ass of course, jiggle for all I care, if you’ve got it, flaunt it I say. Benefits the other sex of the &lt;i style=""&gt;Homo Sapiensm &lt;/i&gt;right? And what’s with the tube tops you pre puberty chicken pies? Face reality, you are not wearing that tube to its full potential. Save up or ask daddy for some money yah? But don’t bother Dr Woffles Wu lah….he’s busy injecting some self denying celebrity with botox. An alternative? Go to &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Bangkok&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; and do it. The exchange rate’s pretty low now I think. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;The only thing that’s keeping your tube from slipping off are your nipples. What’s up with that &lt;i style=""&gt;Mean Girls&lt;/i&gt; attitude too? Do skanks of the same undies flock together? The only thing you nymphomaniacs are doing is give more &lt;i style=""&gt;lau tikos &lt;/i&gt;more of an excuse to play chess at HDB void decks. The make up you lay on your face is as thick as cement you know! Clash into a wall and the make up cracks off, exposing your pimpled face. Yah, if you girls already have a pimple factory manufacturing pimple beards for you, what’s the use of covering it up? Be proud! Go round your estate without make up. The pimple factory needs air to work too you know. So quit making it work even harder! Go see a doctor or change your diets…..no wait, you people don’t even have diets. Your daily diet comprises a grain of rice for breakfast, a drop of gravy for lunch and a strand of noodles for dinner. You’re sick you anorexic freaks! First the skimpy clothes, then the ton of make up and finally, this eating disorder? YOU SICK SKINNY FREAKS!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;FATTIES, UGLY 50+ AUNTIES, HYPOCRITIC CAT FEEDERS AND RETARDED JAY WALKERS.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These people make up the population of &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Singapore&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;. If not for them, would your life be as exciting as it is now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Without these people, would there be laughter in our lives?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In the end, we need people like these to make fun of to pass time and let little kids decide who they want to be when they grow up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Admit it, you laughed while reading it didn’t you. So you sinned too. It’s ok. Being happy is all that matters. Lots of people look at these otherworldly weight gainers and dressers and have good chuckle to themselves to relieve the stress of living and working in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Singapore&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/Run3PZHP8LI/AAAAAAAAACg/2d85mmnoQ-E/s1600-h/3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/Run3PZHP8LI/AAAAAAAAACg/2d85mmnoQ-E/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109887096039927986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;^THAT REALLY IS A&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;SCARY LOOKING SACK OF SHIT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-2309146444364524260?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/2309146444364524260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=2309146444364524260' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/2309146444364524260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/2309146444364524260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2007/09/retarded-pedestrians-posers-and-fake.html' title='RETARDED PEDESTRIANS, Posers and fake-uers, Skanks, Tarts and chicken pies'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/Run1spHP8KI/AAAAAAAAACY/_qDbR-ROYJ8/s72-c/2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-6529072118763587377</id><published>2007-09-14T10:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T20:38:21.249+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cat feeders</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/Runz1pHP8JI/AAAAAAAAACQ/TRcOz1UfSZ0/s1600-h/bullshit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/Runz1pHP8JI/AAAAAAAAACQ/TRcOz1UfSZ0/s320/bullshit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109883355123413138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Here kitty kitty….meow meow…please man….stop being hypocrites! I have enough around me and when I go home, more of you still want to appear in front of me! Yes, the topic now shifts to those damn cat feeding hags. Now, small kids and other people might see them as life saviors of poor homeless kittens left out in the cold without shelter over their skulls right? Ooohhh…the act of feeding these tiny furballs sure does soften one’s heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Not me! I mean come on, do you really expect us to believe that these ‘big hearted’ aunties actually want to take care of the kitten? All they want to do is pass their time, come down to void decks and feed stray cats! If they were the nature lovers that they are, why not take the cats from every void deck you find and bring them home. Do that. And when the cat shits, please clean up! No one likes to setp on cat shit after a hard day’s work. It’s very easy being human, feed the cats and leave after that. Who cleans up the shit? And the piss pools? The cleaners! So come on, cat feeding aunties of the heartlands who gather at the void decks to feed stray cats, do a good deed. A truthfully real good deed for once huh – take the cats home, all of them and rear them and nurse them to their death ok? Because I have seen enough fatties and badly dressed aunties already!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-6529072118763587377?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/6529072118763587377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=6529072118763587377' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/6529072118763587377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/6529072118763587377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2007/09/cat-feeders.html' title='Cat feeders'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/Runz1pHP8JI/AAAAAAAAACQ/TRcOz1UfSZ0/s72-c/bullshit.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-619614657103518051</id><published>2007-09-14T10:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T20:38:22.051+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Disgusting</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/Runy75HP8II/AAAAAAAAACI/S9G-DMyKNJ0/s1600-h/japan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/Runy75HP8II/AAAAAAAAACI/S9G-DMyKNJ0/s320/japan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109882362985967746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^^So true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RunyopHP8HI/AAAAAAAAACA/iFNiRz6hKOw/s1600-h/2192.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RunyopHP8HI/AAAAAAAAACA/iFNiRz6hKOw/s320/2192.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109882032273485938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;^^Super disgusting. Just disappear you fatso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-619614657103518051?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/619614657103518051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=619614657103518051' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/619614657103518051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/619614657103518051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2007/09/disgusting.html' title='Disgusting'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/Runy75HP8II/AAAAAAAAACI/S9G-DMyKNJ0/s72-c/japan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-7446212354545571828</id><published>2007-09-11T08:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-11T09:08:46.357+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dont judge a book by its cover? Don't bullshit man</title><content type='html'>some people say love is blind. is it? what if you looked like keira knightley? you would expect your other half to look like at least half or a third of brad pitt right? this is so true, no matter how you deny it. looks count for a part ok. if that person is obese, bald and has trouble walking due to her immense weight but she has a heart of gold under the fats, would you date her? would you even look at that thing in the first place? NO! dont kid yourself. the answer is a flat no! (&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;notice i refer to women when i write about OBESE fatties. yah. cos these things irritate the life out of me.&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;face it, if you went out with an obese fatty, not only would you have to lose more money by feeding her enormous appetite, you'd lose more FACE just by being seen with her! what if your friends saw her with you? they would go - eh, why you like that? desperate is it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yah. some will feel angry reading this post. ask yourselves, do not be hypocrites. if you had to go out with a mammoth obese fatty who has such a heart of gold, of either gender, would you? just ask yourself yes or no. of course the answer is no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;some fat obese people still think they are ok and spend tons of cash on facials when they should be slimming down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fatties who want to be accepted, face it. it's your body, take care of it. dont give excuses like it has to do with genes. just lose the fat you pigs. i have seen people drop from 130kg to around 78kg in 4 months. so do not say you cant. if you say that, you probably have fat for brains.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-7446212354545571828?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/7446212354545571828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=7446212354545571828' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/7446212354545571828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/7446212354545571828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2007/09/dont-judge-book-by-its-cover-dont.html' title='Dont judge a book by its cover? Don&apos;t bullshit man'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-8338661849582969744</id><published>2007-09-11T08:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-11T08:45:24.415+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Typing</title><content type='html'>just wonder&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- why do some people talk like they know so much about marriage over the radio? They cant even maintain a marriage and they talk as if they are married for a long time when in fact they are already divorced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- why do some drivers wanna cut in front of other peoples vehicles? is it that good to show off? does that whore of a girlfriend beside them give them an extra boost of horsepower?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- why do bums gather at the void decks and make stupid chanting noises every night? wanna make noise go sign up for Live the Dream 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- why do some ladies dress until they look so 'glam'? they look as if they need to be driven to their workplace in a palace or something. in the end they flag down a bus and board it. why wear so nice? are they day time social escorts?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- shouldn' t obese people pay for 2 bus or MRT tickets since they already occupy 2 seats already?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- why do local radio DJs speak as if they were in America and the news anchors talk as if they were speaking to the Queen?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- does colin goh think his last page write ups in 8 Days are funny?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- why do fat, ugly people, who already attract the wrong attention still want to torture us by dressing in stupid ways? Ridiculous hairstyles, stupid punk clothing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- why do people at a local TV Station all speak Cantonese, when they should be speaking English? Are they runners up for the Golden Horse awards?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- why do old and balding men like to spit and snort on the ground? is it an alternate way of expelling liquids since they cant get it up anymore elsewhere?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hmmmm&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-8338661849582969744?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/8338661849582969744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=8338661849582969744' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/8338661849582969744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/8338661849582969744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2007/09/typing.html' title='Typing'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-7441975870130648579</id><published>2007-09-09T09:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T20:38:23.152+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Some posters i made. Helps you see wider in life.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuNSd1kUljI/AAAAAAAAAB0/okYLIEKfdag/s1600-h/thongs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuNSd1kUljI/AAAAAAAAAB0/okYLIEKfdag/s320/thongs.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108017074917381682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^^Some people just never learn. Think you're sexy? you're ugly as shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuNSHFkUliI/AAAAAAAAABs/6lW1L6VQ5X8/s1600-h/hell.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuNSHFkUliI/AAAAAAAAABs/6lW1L6VQ5X8/s320/hell.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108016684075357730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^^Good show. No arty farty shit. Just plain sex, action and violence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuNR1lkUlhI/AAAAAAAAABk/f91_GHOfgYs/s1600-h/knock.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuNR1lkUlhI/AAAAAAAAABk/f91_GHOfgYs/s320/knock.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108016383427646994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^^MASSIVE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuNRjlkUlgI/AAAAAAAAABc/AU_BeRkx-dU/s1600-h/emo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuNRjlkUlgI/AAAAAAAAABc/AU_BeRkx-dU/s320/emo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108016074190001666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^^attention seekers. wanna die just do it quietly right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuNRQlkUlfI/AAAAAAAAABU/wHq0AZL_B00/s1600-h/wannabes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuNRQlkUlfI/AAAAAAAAABU/wHq0AZL_B00/s320/wannabes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108015747772487154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^^posers. strong in a group but chicken shit when alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-7441975870130648579?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/7441975870130648579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=7441975870130648579' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/7441975870130648579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/7441975870130648579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2007/09/some-posters-i-made-helps-you-see-wider.html' title='Some posters i made. Helps you see wider in life.'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuNSd1kUljI/AAAAAAAAAB0/okYLIEKfdag/s72-c/thongs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-5535580426821297294</id><published>2007-09-07T23:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T20:38:23.420+08:00</updated><title type='text'>UGLY AUNTIES</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;How many times have we seen women old enough to be our grandmothers dress as if they were a third of their age? Yeah, saggy boobs hiding behind neon bright blue tube tops. Or droopy thighs poking out from undersized mini skirts? The details are tough to swallow but this is the real world man! If these aunties looked like Demi Moore or Sharon Stone as they are now, I would gladly shut up and gawk. Sadly, this is &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Singapore&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; and not &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Hollywood&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; where plastic surgery is as common as chicken rice is here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Aunties are everywhere, lurking behind the pillars of HDB void decks, ready to gross your eyes out with turkey necks which sag into their exposed cleavages. These old hags regularly flood the heartland malls and love taking the escalators. Why? SO THEY KNOW THAT WHATEVER IS UNDER THAT MINI SKIRT OF THEIRS WILL SHOW AND FRIGHTEN EVERYBODY AWAY!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;They have Asian Afros, which are achieved by spending an entire afternoon in a hair saloon, also populated by badly dressed ugly aunties. Those auntie hairdressers are the worst of the lot. Stroll by any saloon and be amazed by the amount of 50+ year old flesh on display. Wrinkles, loose skin and stretch marks galore, these aunties simple live in their own paradise. They believe that they have found the elixir of youthfulness. Yah, like bottles of hair spray, tubes of facial cream, cartons of lipstick and tubs of hair dye are going to take the years away from them. Skimpy outfits aside, these aunties should really be ashamed of themselves, going to pick up their children after school in that get up. Hello! This is a school, not a &lt;i style=""&gt;getai&lt;/i&gt; stage! Crazy aunties, like fatties, have huge arms naturally. All they do is go past menopause, pile on the kilos and there you have it – bodybuilder sized arms. Not only that, they have so much loose skin it creates resistance when they walk , trapping air in the folds of the wrinkles. Ok, so that’s why aunties and fatties walk and jog so slowly. My bad, I should have seen this earlier. Ok, never too late to know. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Some of the aunties I’ve seen here are way past ridiculous. They wear body hugging back baring dresses, no joke man, and 3 inch high stilettos. My God! Don’t they know that the skin on their backs are so flabby and saggy that it needs a truckload of botex just to keep it from touching the ground? And they still defiantly wear bare back dresses! The flaps of skin under their arms is no longer taut. Out come the chicken wings. Oh yes, next time you see an auntie going sleeveless, look to the upper arms. Natural &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Singapore&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; bred auntie wings of fat and tissue. If they were ever stuck on an island, no worries of starvation ladies, chew on your wings. Get fat, re-grow them and feast till you are rescued. And what is the obsession with skirts being 2 sizes smaller? Do they think that skirt’s a girdle? Do they expect it to hold their wrinkled tummies in? NO! The fat and loose skin simply spills out from the skirt! Now aunties become muffin tops. Don’t know what I mean? Go to a bakery, take a look at the muffins. Especially the top of the muffin, just before it reaches the edge of the paper wrap.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuF1BlkUlbI/AAAAAAAAAA0/FvD2H5R0K4E/s1600-h/muff.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuF1BlkUlbI/AAAAAAAAAA0/FvD2H5R0K4E/s320/muff.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107492122539627954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuF1XlkUlcI/AAAAAAAAAA8/Daft05D3KP0/s1600-h/worst.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuF1XlkUlcI/AAAAAAAAAA8/Daft05D3KP0/s320/worst.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107492500496750018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;"&gt;I read somewhere that after menopause, a woman’s body slowly starts to resemble a man’s. Take care of your body and this won’t happen. Some aunties simply let loose after child birth and pig out, increasing their waist line to the disgust of others. This habit follows into the period of post menopause……and they start looking like uncles of the same age. And this scares the shit out of us. Anyway, it’s their life, let them live it the way they like it. I’m ok with it. But stop giving me and other people SIGHT POLLUTION. I'm too young to go blind! It’s time to rid this country of overgrown fatties and ugly aunties. ONWARD WE MARCH, TILL THE FATSOS AND AUNTIES STAND NO MORE! ONWARD!! I love that last line. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-5535580426821297294?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/5535580426821297294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=5535580426821297294' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/5535580426821297294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/5535580426821297294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2007/09/ugly-aunties.html' title='UGLY AUNTIES'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuF1BlkUlbI/AAAAAAAAAA0/FvD2H5R0K4E/s72-c/muff.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-1115331577081835061</id><published>2007-09-07T23:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T20:38:24.223+08:00</updated><title type='text'>FATTIES</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;There are fatties all around us. In the gym, at school, hell, it’s the invasion of the fatties. Yes people, the time has come for the whole world to experience a new type of order – New Fat Order. There was a time when being a fatty was considered royalty. Yes, royalty. Look up Wikipedia on the old kings and queens of Victorian England and you’ll see. Sacks of fat called kings and queens. Ok, so last time, health and nutrition never mixed. Fat parties and mass orgies did. That’s excusable. The people of that time were uncivilized barbarians who saw justice by imprisoning the poor and feeding the already filthy rich. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;Fast forward to 2007. At least everyone is or has some form of education and knowledge that being fat equals ugly. Yet, once we wake up every morning and look out our windows, it seems blocked, like you woke up in the shade. Well, guess what – a fatty is standing in front of your window. Fatties come in both genders and some of them grow so immensely fat I can’t differentiate who the boy or girl is. No doubt I understand that sometimes it’s not the person’s fault that he/she is fat. It’s in the genes. But if you DO value your place in society and spend money on everything else except trying to go on a diet, I feel sorry for you. Not only do some fatties look ugly, they DRESS UGLY! While writing this, one fatty just waltzed past me, ever so ’gracefully’. Yeah, like real! Gracefully? Some advice to fatties planning the New Fat Order invasion – if you ever wanted people to call you ‘graceful’, then you’d better slap your fats and get working on that new diet plan that you’ve been postponing all this while! Move it fatsos! There are wide ranges of fatties – some are morbidly fat, some insanely fat and there are those who are so fat even I can’t find a word to describe them. Fatties are eye sores to the majority ok. Face it, those who admit to liking fatties lie man. Just like the 1% of men who say they don’t masturbate. Ok if they don’t, I say they are either eunuchs or they are born handicapped.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;Let’s get back to the fat of the topic, haha, pun intended! Have you ever seen fatties endorse any kind of product? Zero right? Ok, Dove might have been a little desperate…Face it you fat slobs, even grannies get to endorse products like high calcium milk. Children who have bladder problems endorse diapers and celebrities who are fast losing their hair endorse hair rejuvenating tonics. Fatties? All they do is either eat more to solve their woes or they go shopping with their terrible dress sense and buy the most ridiculous pieces of clothing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuFxn1kUlZI/AAAAAAAAAAk/OH93wQWJmeM/s1600-h/fatsos.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuFxn1kUlZI/AAAAAAAAAAk/OH93wQWJmeM/s320/fatsos.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107488381623113106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;How over the top do they dress? Stand at the MRT platform and wait for the train. In a while, hordes of colorfully dressed fatties appear and start to mow down the average person in front of them with their immense weight by rushing into the train. These fatsos wear halter tops without realizing the damage being done. I mean, it’s perfectly ok if they suffocate to death, that way we average people won’t have to compete with another person with twice our lung capacity for God’s air. NO, the damage done instead is to our eyesight and our brains. We go cockeyed at the sight of poorly dressed fatties and our brain goes into a trauma and shuts down. They have tree stumps for legs, salamis for arms and potatoes for fingers. Cut them up and oil flows out instead of blood. Normal people let out gas when farting, fatties fart oil and stain their underwear. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;There is a growing trend of fatties who start dressing like nympho Japanese schoolgirls. They think its super &lt;i style=""&gt;kawaii &lt;/i&gt;to be seen in those outfits.Yes, Gwen Stefani gets male hormones raging when she dresses like that. Fatties can have the stage to themselves should they ever contemplate performing in those outfits. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Some even have a taste for thongs!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuFyUVkUlaI/AAAAAAAAAAs/hQodRkoXPA4/s1600-h/thong.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuFyUVkUlaI/AAAAAAAAAAs/hQodRkoXPA4/s320/thong.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107489146127291810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Sometimes fatties really go too far. At the gym, fatties always hog the treadmills by doing SLOW, I mean &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;S-L-O-W walks. A little jiggle of their thigh fats and ok, workout done, time to feast. Please, wake up and open the flaps of fat you pigs call eyelids and smell beyond the &lt;i style=""&gt;bak chor mee&lt;/i&gt; and&lt;i style=""&gt; char kway teow&lt;/i&gt;! You are going to have to work harder lose those pounds of lard. My god, yesterday I stood behind a fatty waiting for her to finish bouncing on the treadmill. After 30mins of shifting the fat, she finally got off, heavy breathing and all. IT WAS ONLY A WALK! HELLO! NOT THAT YOU RAN 20KM! Get used to this people, like I said earlier, fatties are here to stay and you better understand that! &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Fatties also take up 2 seats wherever they go, be it the MRT or the public buses. They cause uneven wear and tear to a car’s suspension due to the weight focused only on one side of the car. Taxi drivers, watch out or your earnings will be spent on suspension repairs rather than diesel refills. Fat people go around blaming fast food outlets for their escalating obesity issues but fail to realize that it’s all up to them to stop eating and start working out! These fatties better watch out or soon they’ll be sharing the same cloud with Moses Lim by going the way of the dodo while I’ll be eating healthily to my own health. Don’t they realize they are the ones bringing down the image of their countries? Tourists come to &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Singapore&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; expecting to see a green city free from litter and what do they see instead? Fatsos everywhere wolfing down whatever is in their hands. Next year’s National Day speech had better incorporate the obesity issue our country is facing. The Caucasians have genes which make them tall and huge compared to out Asian physiques. Not to worry, we Asians are catching up too, not in height but in size. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Yeah, fatties have made their point by putting the fat where it sizzles. Have you?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shapetype id="_x0000_t75" coordsize="21600,21600" spt="75" preferrelative="t" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" filled="f" stroked="f"&gt;  &lt;v:stroke joinstyle="miter"&gt;  &lt;v:formulas&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"&gt;  &lt;/v:formulas&gt;  &lt;v:path extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" connecttype="rect"&gt;  &lt;o:lock ext="edit" aspectratio="t"&gt; &lt;/v:shapetype&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1025" type="#_x0000_t75" style="'width:156.75pt;"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file:///C:\DOCUME~1\Owner\LOCALS~1\Temp\msohtml1\04\clip_image001.jpg" title="Ugly"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if !vml]--&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-1115331577081835061?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/1115331577081835061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=1115331577081835061' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/1115331577081835061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/1115331577081835061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2007/09/fatties.html' title='FATTIES'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/RuFxn1kUlZI/AAAAAAAAAAk/OH93wQWJmeM/s72-c/fatsos.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8877512981159694863.post-2359587507909743071</id><published>2007-07-30T22:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T20:38:25.096+08:00</updated><title type='text'>BEST DAY!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/Rq32E25xxiI/AAAAAAAAAAU/wff9ScrlNwo/s1600-h/Wheels.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/Rq32E25xxiI/AAAAAAAAAAU/wff9ScrlNwo/s320/Wheels.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092997316943660578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a very nice car!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/Rq32FG5xxjI/AAAAAAAAAAc/3eU1ZjJXrz8/s1600-h/Hot%2520Toys%2520Robocop%2520and%2520ED209_1.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/Rq32FG5xxjI/AAAAAAAAAAc/3eU1ZjJXrz8/s320/Hot%2520Toys%2520Robocop%2520and%2520ED209_1.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092997321238627890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have this 2 toys now. The Robocop and ED 209 are made by Hot Toys. The sculpting is very good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8877512981159694863-2359587507909743071?l=hamsterisalso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/feeds/2359587507909743071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8877512981159694863&amp;postID=2359587507909743071' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/2359587507909743071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8877512981159694863/posts/default/2359587507909743071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hamsterisalso.blogspot.com/2007/07/best-day.html' title='BEST DAY!'/><author><name>When darkness ends tonight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17059310334566703920</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_M5Q9nUOiOWs/Rq32E25xxiI/AAAAAAAAAAU/wff9ScrlNwo/s72-c/Wheels.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
