And although the White Pelé quickly earned the fans' adulation at Kashima Antlers, going on to manage the national team at the 2006 World Cup, he couldn't always understand the culture.

Players, apparently, expected instruction. Not just tactical guidance - they would, at times, look to the touchline for direction. "What should I do when I have the ball? How should I proceed?"

Interesting to see how Japanese metro signs differ from the ones TfL produce here in London.

They don't ask for a change in attitude ("be nice"), and they don't just state what you can't do ("No Smoking"). There's no criticism of loud music, mobile phones or make-up application. Simply an instruction to proceed - "Please do it at home".

Everyone's entitled to their own vices, as long as they keep them private. Do what you like, but don't make your dirty mess in public.

So what are these suicide barriers on the platform saying?

On the other hand, it seems Sarah Palin, as pretty as she looked tonight, STILL didn't have too many solid points. She made some (against Obama), so let me not act like she was incoherent or anything. BUT, she still relied on a lot of tactics like emotions and trying to 'connect' back to the people by describing the same kind of scenarios that Hillary Clinton is so good at. At some point, Sarah Palin actually said "...the hockey moms and Joe six-pack". Come on! Joe six-pack??? Who the hell is that? She also had the same kind of attitude she had during some backstage Katie Couric interview...you know, very sarcastic. I do not like her sarcasm.

During the debate, the MAIN topic was John McCain. Seriously. Within the first three minutes of the debate, it was funny to hear Joe Biden make a say John McCain was out of touch. Damn, it seems anybody who has a mouth keeps saying McCain is out of touch, it even seems funny. I think it's just taking a shot at how old he is. He really isn't THAT old. He's 72. There are several senators who are older than him...so let's give him credit for that. During the debate, Biden seemed to have a very comprehensive knowlege of foreign policy, and an even better knowlege of McCain's voting history, so it seemed that regardless of the questions that the lady presiding over the debate(I wish I knew her name)...the name 'John McCain' kept coming up. If it was Biden saying that name, then it was about his voting history in the senate, and how he had sided with President Bush on most issues, and if it was Palin saying the name, it was about how great his values were, and how great a leader he is and will be.

If you ask me, I'd say Biden clearly won the debate, as it seems Palin didn't have much knowlege to tear down his points, or make strong points against him and Obama.

In other news, I was on the phone with one of my friends today...a good friend of mine who's currently studying for his PhD in physics at a very respectable university. He told me he's now addicted to the strip club. He told me about a certain stripper he's convinced he's in love with. He said that it seems that as you put down a vice, you pick up another. In his case, he stopped smoking pot and now goes to the strip club. I admired the fact that he just quit smoking pot totally...I'm still working on that. He said that the stripper he likes(actually, he said he loves her) gives crazy lap dances, and that in the room where she gives lap dances(i think it's somehting like $50 or $60 for 5 minutes), he said it's almost like sex with her. 5 minutes of fantasy. I don't criticize it in any way, because I'd definitely say just because you like a stripper doesn't mean you don't respect her. And...the world is full of men who really just would like to cut out the prelimiary games and wooing, and get some action. That doesn't mean the men just want women for sex either. It just means that they don't have all the patience to go through the wooing. Funny enough I've never been to a strip club, but when I go visit him...I'll definitely bring my stash of one dollar bills along. You know...

I told him to go ahead and make some conversation with her, and get to know her as a person - but by no means should he prevent her from fulfiling her proffesional duties though. Cause, regardless of whether she might see my friend is a customer who likes lap dances from her, everybody is looking for somebody who really likes them for who they are. Flaws included.

What do you think of strip clubs and the guys who go there?

By 4 AM, we were choosing the spot where we would sleep on. I'll tell how we managed. JE and Alice, being the firsts to go to the room were firsts on the single bed. Leslie being thin enough to squeeze herself anywhere followed suit. Chris provided a cushion which Famay, Franze, and I used. We told Daniel we would still be comfortable enough if he slept with us on the cushion but he opted to lie the lower half of his body on a chair and the upper half at Leslie's feet. At around 6 AM, he was crawling to the cushion.

Falling asleep needed a lot of effort. First of all, you have to be able shun all the noise away which is very hard because "the noise" was using a microphone. You then have to endure the very cold temperature of the room. And then there's the sunlight which tells you it's time to rise and shine. Before 9 AM, we were all up. Well, all of us except Chris.

We had nothing to eat so we decided to have food delivered. We then decided against it since McDonald's will only be delivering burger meals starting 10:30 AM. Some just wanted to buy food from the local supermarket. Some wanted to wait. So we played cards while deciding which was the best option. By 10:30 AM, we were walking to the local supermarket to buy ingredients for tuna sandwich.

After eating, we took turns in taking baths while playing some more cards. It was 2 PM when BuddyDan, JE, and Leslie left for UP for their small group. Chris ordered pizza as bribe for us to stay a little bit longer which we ate while watching The Exorcism of Emily Rose. Although from the middle to the end of the film, I was jut sleeping. The best sleep I had that day. After watching, it was going home time. I took a jeep and then a bus and I was home.

Here are a few that I found lulzy or moving (did not correct spelling errors of the OP’s):

61577. I sometimes wish I loved my mother

61569. I like to try and predict where the "pop under" ads on Snopes will come up when I go to their page, and click the "x" to close it before it has a chance to load. Every time I do this I feel swift and powerful, and smug satisfaction that I am beating their idiot marketing measures...(!)

61555. reading this website is what makes me late for work.

61545.
I have a friend who is in the 93 percentile for penis length/girth but he rarely has an orgasm with a woman. My unit is 4-3/4 inches long and my wife comes nearly every day with me. My friend with the giant dick is jealous of me. My little penis is as sensitive as a clit and it makes me sooo happy!

61523. I fight with my wife so much because I am gay and cannot face the truth.

61516. I used to go out with this guy that would get all pissy whenever I refused to give him blowjobs. He'd bring up how when we first hooked up I always gave him them.
Yea I did, and you wanna know why I stopped - you got too comfortable with me which meant your fucking hygiene standards went out the fucking door. Do you really think that I want to put my head down into your 'haven't showered in three days' crotch?
How about how you thought splashing tap water on your dick was the same as cleaning it? I could still see the goddamn fluff from your pants sticking to your foreskin and you want me to suck that?
Or the nights where you'd be out drinking all night and ask me to go down on you after you'd taken about 300 pisses that night each one getting sloppier than the last until you were too drunk to even bother shaking it before you put it back in your pants. Cos mmmmmh mmmmh every girl loves the taste of dried beer piss.
So think about that the next time you try to call me frigid, you disgusting smelly motherfucker.

61514. My father raped me when I was 10. I blamed my mother.

61470. everytime i drive at night and i see someone walking on the street. i automaticaly assume they are zombies and i start to veer my car towards them. then i quickly relize that their not and get as far as away as i can. dont worry world im prepared for when they come :D – ce

61453. I am consumed with the thought that people hate me. After a conversation I replay every word in my head to see if I said anything stupid. I certainly always find something and beat myself up over it. It is really hard being me.... You know what I am thinking? I shouldn't have said any of this. That was so dumb of me. Ug, I just put my foot in it again didn't I? I'll bet you all hate me.

61449. It's amazing how tears can turn a guy into mush and make everything that much better for you.

61444. Someone who fucked me over in the past has a terminal disease. I love it!

Here is my challenge to everyone that reads this. Comment anonymously, and post your own dirty little secret!

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No, I have no idea what I'm talking about right now.

"Just a friend!  Just a friend!.. Who you're probably jealous of."

And admittedly I was.

Once upon a time.

In another time.

Now it's a given that I date quite a bit.  Or rather, have dated quite a bit in the past.  It takes a lot to dazzle me.  I hadn't found the person I was willing to be exclusive with.  I enjoy the single life far too much to be tied down with a ball and chain to someone less than extraordinary.

Once upon a time.

In another time.

I thought this man and I would one day be that exclusive couple.  But he was far too greedy as well, but wouldn't admit it.  Our last sexual romp involved arguing about his philandering ways.

"No more. No more."

"Yes mam'"

We pseudo parted ways.   Taking yet again another "time out" as it were.

Because that's what you do when it's more than just throws of passion under the sheets- however amazing as they may or may not have been.

Part of me craved that volatile relationship.

One upon a time.

In another time.

He ended up becoming official with this girl now.. who he'd claimed was only a friend.  He'd brought her to parties and functions... who did he think he was kidding by thinking everyone didn't at least gather they had to be sleeping with each other.

She was local.  It was conveniently accessible.  He's all about the convince.  We've been through this before, earlier in the year when the equivalent of his first love- someone he was previously engaged to but broke it off with.  He doesn't pursue a challenge, or he didn't before.

Now this current affair.  I don't know a lot about her.  It's not my business.  I will say this though... she seems to be amazing, talented, intelligent, funny and beautiful.  She is good for him.  They could potentially be good for each other.

So why when she was away did he so quickly have me in his bed?  Why continue this push and pull game with me?  Is it just sex?  It could very well be.  Then you add in other things...

A friend of mine and I had a falling out a bit ago.  Previously him and said friend didn't care for each other.  Miraculously he messaged her soon after I told him that we had a falling out.  He's quite manipulative and knows what hes doing.

Something that we had discussed since near the beginning of our courtship.. he was now talking about doing with her.  This.. girl he knew vaguely in instant messages versus me, whom he'd had a history with.

I was frustrated, but I let it go.  I let them both go.  I focused on other things.  I focused more on me.

I went down there again.  That place is home and I'm passionate about those events regardless if he's there or not.  I went down there for my friends.  But most importantly, I went down there for me.

When I was there, I met someone that he was associated with.  Someone I'd heard of but hadn't formerly met.  To Big, I was never interested in talking to him because you knew him at all.  It wasn't a plot to try and make sure you were stuck dealing with me.  I just thought that person might be awesome and he is.

I didn't approach Big at the party.  I let him be.  I didn't want to intrude on him and his girlfriend.  I genuinely respect them.  I would like to get to know her better.  I hadn't given her a chance before, and that was just me being a baby.

Something happened in the interim of a hug at a party to later that night.  I'm really not sure what exactly it was either.

He has since deleted me from all social networks and the one time I tried messaging him politely to find out his version of the story, I'm gathering that I was likely blocked.

I didn't expect this to happen.  I expect little anymore.  I shouldn't even give a care about that whole mess.  But for some reason.. I valued the friendship and time we had invested in each other.  I guess I'm just a masochist for letting it go but wishing things ended amicably.

Is it so wrong to want someone you cared about to be happy?  To walk away knowing you really did all that you could in order to make things...

Its amazing how when you let go, you realize how much you really were cheating yourself about.  Sure I've dated quite a few frogs.  I've met a few worthwhile princes.

And then I met my "princess."

confessionizer:

i wish that i said goodbye instead of running away from our issues and text messaging you…
would things of been different? its the question I ask myself every second of the day… I MISS YOU.

Sometimes I wonder... why people do things like this.. and I think of the situation with "Big" & me.  There wasn't a text message.  Hell, I'm not even sure what exactly transpired in the interim.  All I know, is that I did all I could do.  Most of the time I feel amazing about it.. but others, I wonder if things could have been different too.

Things with me and the grip are absolutely amazing- in that extremely cute but sickening kind of way.  It's calming and non dramatic.  It's this warm blanket of something so wonderful it almost feels surreal.

And yet, at the same time... it's not chaotic.  It doesn't feel completely challenging.  With "Big" it was this struggle of heart.  This tug of war because neither of us wanted to admit that we were powerless.

I let go.  I had the wind knocked out of me.  The drive home from home had hit me like a brick truck.  I drove in silence.  The sound of the road. The hum of the traffic. No music.  Just pavement and air.  Of puffs of cigarettes and pffff.

I need to have a beach day.  I need to run away to the one love affair that is both that volatile storm of passion and the crackling fireplace on a cold winter's night.

I adore the grip.  I know that Big is wrong for me.  So why does this even phase me?  I think I need some ice cream and a good spanking. /calls the grip

I'll just shorten his name to Henry A.

Henry was a Mexican, not a Mexican-American, by his own declared convictions. As deplorable as all good Americans find the dreaded hyphenated American, Henry was worse. He didn't want the good name of Mexico sullied in such an association. Even though his family had lived in the US for generations.

Henry had an ex-wife he liked to badmouth. She was a black woman of similar attitude and they produced one child who looked just like the curly-headed kid in the old Oscar Meyer commercials ("My bologna has a first name.....") After a session of particularly vitriolic denunciations of her, I asked him how the hell two such incompatible people had ever gotten together in the first place. He looked at me as if I had lost my mind and told me they had plenty in common. Naturally, I asked what, to which he replied condescendingly, "We both hate white people." Of course, if I applied that logic to my life my dating pool would be restricted to the Aryan Nations or some such unsavory racist groups. Logic was not Henry's strong suit, and he considered consistency to be a tool of white oppression.

Even I, however, never fully grasped the depths of illogic and unreason that lurk in the minority racist's mind and soul until Henry showed them to me. One day Henry was "treating" me to a diatribe about the injustice of American society that compelled him to live an impoverished lifestyle in the scummiest part of town. Then, to my shock and horror, he invoked me as an exemplar of that injustice. Of course, I demanded to know what he based that on. My offense, as it turns out was that I owned my own home (and I had since I was 19), lived in a good neighborhood by the river and the biggest park in town, and worst of all I drove a new car. Henry, on the other hand lived in the slummiest neighborhood in town with a sky-high crime rate, few amenities, and he drove a 10-year old car. Since we both worked the same job at the same rate of pay for the same number of hours and lived such disparate lifestyles, he proclaimed that disparity as ironclad proof of the viciously unfair nature of American society.

I probably just should have pointed out that dozens of Latinos at the company lived as well or better than I did and dropped the issue. But no, I had to try to help the guy out. It was obvious to me; Henry had no clue about the real reason that he was poor. So I started asking him questions.

I asked him if he and his woman drank, then smoked cigarettes, then snuff, then smoked marijuana, used other drugs, and if they gambled. All of which questions were answered in the affirmative along with angry demands to know why the questions were relevant. Henry daily drank beer, tequila, and whiskey. He smoked multiple packs of cigarettes a day and "dipped" snuff as well. He and his wife smoke numerous ounces of marijuana per week, along with other drugs as availability permitted. He also enjoy losing a few bucks at the card table.

I had Henry right where I wanted him, I thought. I was sure my logic would show him the error of his ways and he would either change, or at least stop being such an insufferable bigot. I questioned him about the price associated with each of his "hobbies" and he reluctantly gave them to me. When he was done, I added them all up and came up with a figure I was certain would prove my point. The combined costs of his and his woman's vices alone were higher than my first and second mortgages, car payments, all utilities, and food and gas costs—combined. I happily announced that he could live as well as I did in my neighborhood if he quite drinking, doping, smoking, dipping, and gambling as I had done. What did I get for my efforts? The following statement:

"That's just like you peckerwoods. Always trying to tell us people of color how to live."

Naturally, Henry doesn't speak for his entire demographic group. Doubtless, not even the majority of it. But he does hold and speak the thoughts of millions of people that live in this country. It is bad enough when we have people who can't understand that having your cake and eating it too are mutually exclusive. It is worse when we have people like Henry who believe, and demand, that he have his cake and eat it too. Also, that you make the cake, deliver it to him, feed it to him, and then apologize because the cake wasn't chocolate. My point? Once again it is simply this:

I've put forward this example, and will put forth others, to illustrate that America's false reverence for compromise and accomodation need to end. Certainly we should try to come to a mutually beneficial agreement (not compromise or appeasement) whenever possible. If, however, it isn't possible then you must strive to win the conflict, or you're an idiot. Six years of reasoning with Henry A. never availed me of anything, except unnecessary stress. In the end, his heart and mind were as rotten with hate as when I started. Henry A., and others of his ilk, can only be beaten. If we don't fight them now, we'll be obeying them later.

Magbabayad ka rin! 

Siya ay isang pulis, matapang, walang kinatatakutan, malakas sa kanyang mga superior at may backer pang pulitiko. Pinangingilagan ng lahat, mga kawatan, mga miembro ng sindikato, huldper, mamatay tao, drug pusher, addict, rapist, manloloko, etc. Laging nangangati ang kanyang mga daliri sa gatilyo ng baril. Kaunting bagay lang nanunutok kaagad ng baril. Kung may hindi siya nagustohan sa kausap ay nananakit siya kaagad lalo na kung lasing. Isa siyang salot sa lipunan na isinusuka na ng kanyang mga kamag-anak at kababayan. 

Malakas ang delihensiya, kinaiinisan at isinusumpa ng mga magbabalut, sidewalk vendors, tricycle drivers, jeepney drivers, at pati na ang mga pokpok. Marami siyang mga bata-batang halang din sa bituka at tirador. May mga hawak siyang putahan at pasugalan. Laging makapal ang laman ng kanyang pitaka at ang kanyang suweldo ay sa opisyal na lang napupunta dahil hindi na niya ito pa kailangan. May asawa siya at mga anak na feeling milyonaryo din dahil sagana sila sa katas ng kanyang pangungurakot at illegal na gawain. Papalit-palit ang kanyang sasakyan at kadalasan ay may mga gamit siyang mamahaling alahas. 

Marami siyang mga babae at kabit na GRO. Lahat ay suportado sa laki ng kanyang mga kinikita mula sa mga illegal paraan. Marami nang reklamo lang inihain aban sa kanya ngunit lagi naman siyang napapawalang sala dahil malakas ang kapit niya sa mga nasa itaas. Malaki kasi ang pakinabang sa kanya ng mga superior officers.  May mga krimen pang pagpatay na ibinibintang sa kanya ngunit walang naglakas loob na tumistigo. Ang tingin niya tuloy sa kanyang sarili ay isang untouchable. 

Ngunit sagad na yata hanggang sa buto ang kanyang kasamaan at tila parang buwitreng  walang kabusogan. Maski ang mga kaawa-awang pokpok ay kanyang piniperahan, kung ayaw magbigay ay kulong silang lahat. Ang matinde, hindi lang sila kinukotongan, isa-isa pang pinagpaparausan. Kung minsan ay dinadala pa ang mga ito sa kanyang mga katropang sindikato para sila'y paligayahin at papaparausan. 

Isang araw nagawi siya sa isang beer house at kanyang naispatan ang isang bagitong dancer. Kinausap niya ang manager at sinabing gusto niya itong ilabas. Walang nagawa si Mamasan kung hindi niya pagbigyan ang kati ni Mr.Cop. Ayaw sana ni Inday dahil gusto pa niyang kumita sa mga tip na ibinibigay sa kanya ng mga customers na pinagbibigyan niya sa paghipo ng mga maseselang bahagi ng kanyang katawan. May sakit ang kanyang ama at nangangailangan ng malaking halaga para ito'y maoperahan. Sa pag-aakalang one-night-stand  lang siya kay Mr.Cop sumama ito at ginawa niya ang lahat para paligayahin ang masamang pulis na ito. Labis namang nasiyahan si Mr.Cop; kaya sa halip na pakawalan ito, iginarahe niya ng isang Linggo at puulit-ulit na pinagpaparausan. Nakawala lang si Inday sa kanya nang tawagin si Mr. Cop ng kanyang superior upang magreport sa police station dahil may red alert.  

Ngunit nang bumalik si Inday sa Club may masamang balita siyang natanggap. Inatake raw muli sa puso ang kanyang ama subalit hindi na siya nadala pa sa hospital dahil sa kawalang pera. Tinawagan daw siya ng kanyang mga kaanak sa Club ngunit hindi siya mahagilap sa mga panahong iyon. Ni hindi man lang daw sinasagot ang mga tawag nila kay Mr. Cop sa kanyang cellphone. Kaya umuwi ng probinsiyang na punong-puno ng puot at pighati ang puso ni Inday upang dumalo sa libing ng kanyang ama. 

Pero puot, galit, at pagkamuhi naman ang sumalubong sa kanya sa probinsiya. Ang perang pang-paopera sana ng kanyang ama ay napunta na lang sa pagpapalibing sa kanya. Hindi naman nagtagal si Inday sa probinsiya, lumuwas siya kaagad ng Maynila pagkatapos na pa-siyam. Ngunit sa kanyang pagbabalik ay may nabuong paghihigante sa kanyang kalooban. Ilang panahon din niyang pinag-isipan at pinagplanohan ito nang hindi siya sasabit sa gagawin. 

Parang wala lang sa kanya ang nangyari nang magkita at mag-usap sila ni Mr. Cop. Nagtrabaho pa rin siya sa club, at si Mr. Cop ay  binabalik-balikan pa rin siya. Tila nahuhumaling na yata sa kanya si Mr. Cop. Bakit nga hindi parang artista siya sa ganda, at kahit pokpok pa parang sariwa pa ang pangangatawan. Wala na rin kasing ganang sipingan pa ni Mr. Cop ang kanyang asawang tumaba na ng husto dahil sa dami ng mga kinakain. Sanay na rin kasi si Misis sa pambabae at pagpaparaos ng kanyang machong mister na pulis sa mga dancers at pokpok sa club. 

At dahil  parang girlfriend na rin ang tingin ni Mr.Cop kay Inday, lahat naman ng kahilingan ng babae sa kanya ay kanyang pinagbibigyan. Kaya nang nagbirthday si Inday ay hiniling nito sa siyota niyang pulis na dalhin naman siya sa isang resort kung saan siya ay mag-celebrate ng kanyang birthday. Dahil walang duty noon si Mr. Cop pinagbigyan kaagad ang girlfriend niyang dancer. Isang week-end noon at doon sila sa malayong resort na nag-celebrate. 

Dahil sila na lang ang natitirang panauhin sa gabing iyon, nagmistulang lovebird naman ang dalawa habang magkayakap at mainit na naghahalikan sa may swimming pool. At panay naman ang tungga ng beer itong si Mr. Cop kapag bumitiw sa kanya si Inday na tila nagpapakondisyon upang romansahin ang babae. Ngunit talagang malakas yata ang resistensiya ni Mr. Cop dahil kahit naparami na siyang bote ng beer na nainum ay nagawa pa niyang sipingan nang magkasunod ang babae.

Bahagya silang nagpahinga pagkatapos ng mainit na romansa. Nagyaya naman ang babae na magswimming pa uli sila dahil naiinitan siya. Pinagbigyan naman siya ni Mr. Cop dahil hindi pa namang lumalalim ang gabi at may balak pa itong makipag-sex dito habang nakalusong sila sa tubig ng pool. Naglabas uli ng beer si Mr. Cop at panay panay na naman ang tungga nito. Si Inday naman ay nagsu-swimming lang at tinatantiya ang pinakamalalim na bahagi ng pool. Hindi pa rin tumitigil sa pagtungga ng beer si Mr. Cop hanggang naubos niya ang baon nila. Gusto niyang magpabili uli ngunit nagsara na ang store sa resort. At ganon na lang ang laki nang tuwa nito ng ilabas ni Inday ang dala nitong Russian Vodka. 

Dahil lasing na lasing na siya ay hindi na naisip pa ni Mr. Cop kung makakasama sa kanya ang pag-inum ng Vodka. Mabilis na naglabas  ng ice cubes sa bucket itong si Inday at inilagay sa loob ng isang baso. Binuhusan kaagad niya ito ng whisky at inabot kay Mr. Cop sabay halik sa pulis. Itinungga naman kaagad nito at muling humingi pa siya ng kasunod kayi Inday. Pagkatungga ay muli na namang hinalikan ang babae, mainit at matagal na naglapat ang kanilang mga labi na tila ito na yata ang kahulihulihang niyang malalasap na halik mula sa babae. 

Kumawala sa pagkakayakap sa kanya ng pulis at isa-isang tinanggal nito ang kanyang bikini na tila sini-seduce ang pulis.  Wala na siyang saplot pa sa katawan. Uminit bigla ang pakiramdam ni Mr. Cop nang tumambad sa kanya ang seksing katawan ng babae. Mahilo-hilo man siya tumayo kaagad ito para yakapin ito gaya ng kanyang ginagawa tuwing magsisiping sila ni Inday ngunit mabilis na tumakbo ang bababe. Natuwa naman ang pulis na tila gusto ring makipaglaro ng habulan sa kanya. Ngunit nang medyo abutan na siya ng pulis mabalis itong tumalon sa pinakamalalim na bahagi ng pool. Tumalon din ang pulis. Unang umahon si Inday at mabilis na pinulot ang kanyang mga damit para maligo. Ang pulis naman ay nasa tubig pa at dahil sa hilung-hilo na ito sa sobrang kalasingan ay hindi na niyang makayanan pang umalis doon sa malalim na bahagi ng pool. 

Mabilis naman nagtungo sa kanilang cottage si Inday para maligo at magpalit ng damit. Kunwari ay iniwan lang niya ang kanyang boyfriend na pulis na nagsi-swimming lang sa pool. Hindi nagtagal biglang may kumatok sa kanilang cottage. Dalawang sikyung nagro-ronda na siyang nakakita sa pulis na noon ay lumulutang na sa pool. Halos hindi sila makapagsalita nang ibinabalita sa kanya ang pagkalunod ng kanyang siyotang pulis. 

Sa harap ng mga rumisponding pulis at mga tauhan ng resort, ganon na lang ang pag-iyak at paglulupisay ni Inday nang makita niya ang wala nang buhay pa na katawan ni Mr. Cop. Pang-FAMAS talaga ang acting nito at dinala pa sa despensary ng himatayin sa sobrang pagdadalamhati.

My doctor dug into my head recently to remove the wax he thought might be irritating my throat.  The tool he used looked like Barbie's ice cream scooper and the hardened blob he removed looked like a raisin.  I've never been afraid to ask for a peek into the Kleenex afterward, but I wasn't about to out my sudden craving for Rum Raisin ice cream.  Barf. 

I was also super paranoid that he'd see what I've been doing in my ears since my last appointment.  That was the time he told me to stop using q-tips which I haven't since.  But I have failed even more miserably by choosing to dig the wax out using the bent end of bobby pins instead. 

I can't even begin to process why I think that's okay.  Maybe if he had said, "Don't put anything in your ears" I wouldn't have.  What idiot needs a damned list of things not to put in their ears?  I do!  I'm sure I could keep out of there if I really tried because I'm not completely hopeless, but honestly the longest I've gone is a couple days.

Luckily, I haven't done any permanent damage because he didn't say a word about it.  I really can't imagine having that conversation aloud with someone, let alone my doctor.  If you asked why, I would have no answer for you.  And that's a little scary. 

I still use q-tips to remove eye make up, but I can't even go about this routine in a decent way.  When I'm done with one I toss it behind the tiny trash can in the corner instead of directly into the trash can.  I don't leave them piling up back there for very long because I don't enjoy a mess, but it feeds the compulsive little monster tummy in my brain that I can't tap into for very long without being swallowed myself.

When I was a kid I did similar things.  As unoriginal as it might be, it all started with my ABC (already been chewed) gum under the nightstand.  This wasn't a very big deal until I was caught in the midst of revisiting each piece. 

As I grew I graduated from the nightstand to the kitchen where stuck my ABC gum underneath cabinets and even in the refrigerator beneath the fruit crisper drawers.  I never knew what to say when my parents found a wad, but they always asked.  "Why can't you just put your gum in the trash can?"  I... don't know. 

By the time I was a teenager I had graduated to the living room where I finally kicked the ABC gum habit and began hiding Popsicle sticks in our couch cushions. 

I don't think I'll ever stop having tiny secrets like these. 

Well, not secrets any more.

It was reported that three youths in Hong Kong brazenly raped a young girl at a Yoshinoya outlet in Sha Tin Hong Kong and recorded the rape on their handphones.

After the incident, Yoshinoya Hong Kong decided it would spend HK$1 million to improve the security system as well as provide additional staff training and counselling.

It makes me wonder .....

Read more here:

http://ryblogland.blogspot.com/2008/09/what-if-yoshinoya-rape-video-clip.html

Beer, being fairly easy to get ahold of in L.A. (lower Alabama), it was the liquor of choice among the under 18 crowd, with Mad Dog 20/20 coming in a close second.

I remember being totally trashed once on Mad Dog and then having to run the sound board at church. I'm pretty sure that I still have about 50 good deeds to perform before I've worked off that spiritual debt. But that too faded and it wasn't until I was in my early thirties that I even bought my first bottle of "hard liquor," such was my fanaticism with my health.

Now, my meager liquor cabinet is stacked with the usual amenities: rum, vodka, midori, Lemonchello (sp?), some liqueurs of various flavors including some Godiva chocolate liqueur that my mom purchased when she was here a couple of years ago and that is really too sweet for much of anything except the one cocktail recipe she used it for (something to do with a Hershey's Kiss in a martini glass?).

Anyway, I used to play golf with a fellow who smoked cigars and I've smoked one or two here or there, but nothing ever seriously. Recently I saw a good deal on some cigars that came with a little humidor and I couldn't pass it up.

See, despite my protestations to the contrary, I like the idea of doing grown-up stuff, even if most of the time I don't feel especially grown up. But therein lies the problem see; most of the time, it turns out that I like the "idea" of it more than the actual "doing" of it.

For instance, the other day I cracked open my new humidor (it's like a little jewelry case for men) and randomly picked out a cigar. I took it outside and lit it while I had the house to myself for a while and I smoked it while reading. After about 20 minutes, I looked up and realized I had a bit of a buzz going. Now, to show you how ignorant I am about these things, I didn't even realize a buzz was a side-effect. All this time I thought old guys smoked cigars because they liked the way they tasted. Those sneaky old coots!

Excited over the prospect of getting a buzz without having to drink anything, I smoked away until the end of the cigar was getting too warm for comfort and then I ashed the tip and tossed it in the garbage.

About ten minutes into the "buzz" another feeling started to creep in...nausea. It grew and grew until I had that cold sweat thing going and it stayed there for about an hour. Not even a good shower, teeth brushing and a bowl of Frosted Flakes helped. All told, it took about another two hours for the effects to completely go away.

Now, I've gotten sick from drinking alcohol before and it certainly didn't dissuade me from that vice, but I'm wondering if I have the stomach for another cigar any time soon (pun intended). And again, it seems like a cool, middle-aged guy thing to do, but my sissy, go-to-the gym everyday, system couldn't handle it.

Too much manliness I guess. But I have grey hair; doesn't that count for something?

gambling...is addictive...

"roll the dice...sex,drugs, and rock n roll are my only vice...." -Everlast

im not usually one to gamble... i work hard for my money... so ..im pretty careful bout how i spend it...and well... i know the odds... and ...thats what usually keeps me from gambling... MOST of the TIME...

..but...on occasion i get lured into a game... usually ...if im tempted..

its with house money... nuthin to lose...those are pretty good odds...

even a sex kitten has a hard time saying no...

...but a kitten has to be careful...

because sometimes... the house money runs out... and if you arent done with the game...

you catch yourself investing a bit of your own...

and thats when...things get dangerous...

and kittens get skittish...

and ...

well...

trips out of town get booked... and car keys get tossed about carelessly...

and the housekeeper starts shaking her head at the frequent requests for linen changes...

im afraid im not a brave girl...

and when that happens...i push back from the table..

i'm not sure i can afford to lose...

maybe i shouldnt have sat down at all....

and.. now here i am...in too deep to walk away....but...not far enough

to know if winning is really possible ...

whats winning anyway??

the last one at the table??? the biggest bank roll at the end of the night???

maybe "winning" ...

is just getting to play the game...getting invited to sit at the high stakes table....

and maybe just maybe ...i should consider....

plunking down some cold hard emotional cash....

xoxo

click here for download

]]> http://sevenslumber.wordpress.com/?p=340 Sun, 07 Sep 2008 00:49:17 +0000 windshades http://windshade.wordpress.com/2008/09/07/testing-leica/ 4am Saturday morning

Procrastination is without a doubt a bad thing, especially if you push aside important tasks and end up rushing them out in a shoddy manner. When I keep telling myself, there's this and that to do and yet I find myself hanging for an extra hour at the coffee joint, surfing Fabsugar and Forever21 for celebrity gossip and clothes, downloading new music to spice up my playlists, painting my toes and dancing with myself. I haven't been exercising for nearly two months, not that it is showing anywhere, thanks to my blessed high metabolism. I am down with the most common college-kid affliction (not the flu) the procrastination-itis, and there is no cure in sight, except for a little dose of self-discipline and a wakeup call -- which will come in the form of midterms, project deadlines and the finals. But meanwhile, two weeks away from the mid-semester break, it looks like the procrastination bug is here to stay, so I might as well enjoy it while I can.

Anti-procrastination Resolutions:
#1 - Stay away from my weekly dose of primetime television drama until I have completed the tasks I have set for the day.

#2 - Rethink the purpose of my surfing ASOS.com and UrbanOutfitters and downloading the latest hits when I have some really cutthroat competitors in my class to beat.

#3 - Wake up the moment the alarm rings, and go to bed before I am so tired I fall asleep in an awkward position that leaves a crick in my neck and a perpetual numbing sensation in my arm.

No sleep and then a little bit more sleep.
Little amounts of food to bigger plates of food.
No exercise to lots of yoga practice...

He had all the vices in the world. His friends thought he was hopeless and beyond changing. They knew what he had done and felt terrible that they couldn’t have stopped him in the beginning itself. Loving him was tormenting since it burned their hearts to see him be in the wrong and then have to bear the consequences for it.

He was living his life of destruction when he met a girl who seemed nutty in the beginning. He was intrigued by her sense of doing the right and the good. Yet he shrugged and went his own way preferring to ignore the good he saw in her. She saw him too but unlike others she saw inside him and realized there was beauty and love behind all the messy and destructive traits he had. It was the first time that someone saw worth in him.

She went two steps back and began to speak to him from behind a veil. She spoke of love, passion and glorious success through doing right. Amused but curious he began to talk to her and before long, both were caught up in an uplifting exchange as love slowly overshadowed them like a cloud. In this weaving through time a beautiful tapestry was made – two souls were knit together in love and one lost and broken soul was made whole.

God delights in reformation and restoration. He looks down with compassion on his broken and hurting children, even if they were in the wrong. Even our losses and failures turn into success when they pass through His hands. He is the master who knows how to work on something till His perfection is mirrored on it.

He turns the dead silence of loss, failure and loneliness into the sounds of joy, gladness, thanksgiving and singing. He can transform any person who had failed to become a success. He can transform any place in the world into a haven of peace and joy. If you have something broken within you or around you give it to the master craftsman – God.

Prayer:

“Dear Jesus, thank You for how you sculpt and work within me to make me better and beautiful. Thank You for seeing worth in me, and never letting go of me. May I always follow You, Amen.”

Keywords:

]]> http://townecrier.wordpress.com/?p=45 Mon, 01 Sep 2008 02:45:08 +0000 townecrier http://townecrier.wordpress.com/2008/08/31/stuff-educated-black-people-like/ Today I’m featuring the blog “Stuff Educated Black People Like”. The name says it all, and, just like ‘Stuff White People Like’, it’s pretty damn accurate! A satirical list of things educated black folks like. Here are some of the things I’m guilty of (my comments in italics):

#7 Advanced Degrees (sorry but you’re going to have it harder without a masters)

#9 Town Homes (cheaper than a full house, which means you can afford to own property in a good area. Common sense for a starter place if you can afford it)

#12 Barack Obama (the frist black” man of the past decade that America has produced that seeks to lead that’s not being obnoxious about it. Too bad they’re going to pin all the problems on him if he wins. Not to mention that the new thing from racist whites will be “quit complaining about racism, it’s not so bad, we elected a black president didn’t we!”)

#15 Getting Dressed Up

#17 Jazz

#18 Weddings (although this is universal I think)

#20 Correcting Others (sad but true)

#21 Facebook (Pre-2005) (I hated all the shit on everyone’s profile esp on Myspace)

#23 Spas

#27 Wine & Cheese Affairs (this applies generally, but doesn’t count for me in the sense of developing sophisticated behavior because youre now educated and “bettered”. I grew up appreciating fine wine so this isn’t new.)

Gated Communities (Reader Submission) April 9th, 2008 • 216 Comments (who wouldn’t want to live in a gated community with things the way they are in Jamaica right now? The ideal would be a villa or a separate house in said community. The community should also be small, unlike long mountain, so that the security guards are familiar with everyone, and can therefore pick up things quickly, and it also makes it harder for strangers to enter a small community than a large one like long mountain)

#28 Hiding Their Drama

Foreign Cars (Reader Submission) (technically all our cars are foreign, but perhaps exotic or uncommon would be a better term. To be quite honest I wouldn’t buy a CRV, Grand Vitara, Tacoma or a RAV4, why not? Because everybody has one. BMW is now the Nuevo-richmobile of choice so that’s out too.)

Naming Their Children (Reader Submission) April 21st, 2008 • 190 Comments
“We Educated Black People LOVE to give our children … Names that won’t leave the teacher guessing where the accent should be. Names that don’t necessarily reveal the child’s race…” (damn skippy! When someone picks up my child’s resume, they should see an interesting, pleasant, and not obviously from a poor black family name. Why not? Because it minimizes the chance of going into the auto-reject pile. Companies often do not read all resumes, and sometimes sort simply by looking at names and taking a random sample. This not an official practice, but is fact for how things work at times.)

#31 Pulling Strings “… Once the phone call is finished, they will return to you grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary. This is because they have performed the ultimate EBP act. They have shown how connected and educated they are by knowing someone important and they have helped out a fellow BP. An extra 10 points for helping a WP, because most EBP don’t want to help WP, but they do it anyway to show off their EBP status and that they are better than them.” (Oh so true!)

#33 The Idea of Golf (I like the idea of golf but I’m taking up fishing instead …)

#34 Boycotting BET (yes, because it makes black people look bad. But I also boycott M.tv and all those other stations that are now corporate whores. In particular, the Bratz line of dolls and cartoons. Bratz is taking being a child slut to new levels and letting a child watch that cartoon and think it’s OK to emulate them is the worst news I’ve heard since Iraq was invaded. Yes, their whoredom is of such epic proportions.)

#35 Knowing What’s Best for UEBP (actually I think I know what’s best for everyone … not just uneducated black people)

A few points I totally disagree with: I don’t like Oprah, I hate it when anyone (that means you black Americans) uses slavery as an analogy or plays the slave card, and I don’t buy into CNN because they are only a few levels better than Fox News – Das Official Newsource of the Homeland. Ein Rich, Ein Volk, Ein Fox News!!!

You’ll find many comments like this one from REALTALK // Mar 15, 2008 at 5:18 pm.

While it comes of as stereotypical, I can put MANY of these characteristics to many of my “educated” friends. However, I didn’t find it funny…more like sad. The most disheartening and truthful statement was the #1 characteristic, which has been and is still as a dividing and cancerous thorn in the side of black culture (which actually isn’t black as all). I would prefer this to be called “Stuff Elitist Black People Like.”

So now I have to ask what exactly makes you an elitist, rather than a person trying to live the good life? Where do we draw the line?

I don't think that I could have picked a better month to do it either.  The move to LA has been a rollarcoaster of adventure, heartache, passion, debauchery, and of course... lots and lots of business.

Who knew so much could be jam packed into 1 months time?  It really makes you take a step back and think.

I am making more commitments to myself on a daily basis.  Yes, that's me trying out that other c word.  It's a biggun.

I am finding that I am becoming more and more dedicated and focused as time goes by.  I am learning where exactly it is where I want to be, where my heart is, where I am headed, what I will or will not put up with.. etcetera etcetera blah blah blah blah yadda yadda yadda.

Love.

"Hate."

I never really hate anything.  I honestly believe that that word should be abolished.

On that tangent, I also believe that the word love is overused too.

The things and people that I can say I genuinely love, I can count on one hand.  The fact that it's more than 1 finger leads me to believe I am incredibly blessed, in as blessed as a non religious person can be.

Life is an adventure.  I am learning so much everyday.  I want to learn more.  I crave it.  It will happen.

NaBloPoMo was more than just a month of consistent blogging to me.  It was a dedication and personal commitment to myself.  I was successful. I am successful.  I have the potential to be even more successful in all areas of my life if I only work hard for it.

Is it bad to be your own number 1 fan?  Hell someone has to be right?  Scratch that.  I'm my number -4 fan.  For some reason I'm blessed by 3 beautiful children who rank higher than I could ever imagine...

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Because I know that everyone loves it when bloggers gush about their pets in their posts, today will be devoted entirely to the subject.

Meet the mister's surprise birthday present.  He's a nameless wonder and a formidable hunter and killer of leaves.  He terrorizes the cats, digs at everything, nibbles the toes of sleeping folk, doesn't walk where we want him to, makes forts out of our duvet and has pooped on the bed - my side, even.  But man, how can anyone resist that face?