<?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-19375402</id><updated>2011-04-22T14:26:49.270+09:30</updated><title type='text'>Because most people have taken me for a ride</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Cornelius</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12906346816074875982</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>12</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19375402.post-114943528234556016</id><published>2006-06-05T00:06:00.000+09:30</published><updated>2006-06-05T01:07:55.443+09:30</updated><title type='text'>Good love is on the way</title><content type='html'>For the longest time in my life, I've always been seeking. Seeking real love, true love. And one gets tired. Because if you look at love in the wrong places, you're more than likely to find it. Hurting hearts needing solace and before you know it, one thing that led to another with more hurt and a deeper vacuum than ever before. Sometimes I wonder-how many times would I have thrown my hands up in frustration if I were God and look at my creation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 men walking on a sidewalk on the hippest side of town; sorry, make that the only hip side of town, we are talking about Adelaide after all. Dressed to the nines due to a previous divine appointment. Walking, talking, watching, changing, comparing, listening, comparing, bargaining. Men shop-they just need some encouragement to go into the finer details. So we eventually end up at a DVD/CD store, Tim, James and I. After wondering around for a bit, Tim and I land in the foreign film section. Tim ends up with a DVD titled &lt;a href="http://http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sex:_The_Annabel_Chong_Story"&gt;"Sex: the Annabel Chong story"&lt;/a&gt; in his hands. 30 seconds later, he mutters "It's sad, isn't it?" before shelving it again. I guess in this day and age of freedom and sexual revolution, people are proud of the numbers that they'e chalked up. And Annabel would come out the proudest of the lot. After all, 251 sex acts in 10 hours is no mean feat. As much as people are disgusted by it, some yearn it. Not so much the sex acts, rather the title. "Yeah, I've had a few....10, 15 maybe? I lost count". People carry it proudly. Men especially. In hope of some affirmation. Some love. And they keep looking at the wrong places continually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately I feel this need to sort my feelings, in the hope that everything will come into place. Maybe love has come knocking and I feel unworthy. Maybe it's a knock on someone else's door and I mistake it for mine. Rather than make a fool of myself and opening the door, I sit and wait. Because one can only dangle himself out there for so long. What ever the case may be , I want to tell you (whoever you may be, we haven't met yet. Or maybe we have and we're still waiting) 2 things.&lt;br /&gt;1) There is no place I'd rather be than right here with your hands entertwined in mine&lt;br /&gt;2) There is no greater distance than you beside me and not knowing how I feel&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19375402-114943528234556016?l=thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/feeds/114943528234556016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19375402&amp;postID=114943528234556016' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/114943528234556016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/114943528234556016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/2006/06/good-love-is-on-way.html' title='Good love is on the way'/><author><name>Cornelius</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12906346816074875982</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-19375402.post-114104375767732089</id><published>2006-02-27T22:39:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2006-02-27T23:05:57.766+10:30</updated><title type='text'>try</title><content type='html'>Just came back from the movie &lt;a href="http://www.transamerica-movie.com/"&gt;TransAmerica&lt;/a&gt;. It's one of those movies which taught me about acceptance. Accepting the choices that we've made and the choices of others. That you can't say you love someone and not respect them (funnily though I've actually said it to someone. I'm sorry, if you ever do chance chance upon this blog)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I received my assignments for honours today and I must say I've got my work cut out for me. I'm gonna have to revisit concepts that I thought could be thrown out the window. Surprise surprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of late I've struggling with self-worth. Rather I've come into the realisation that I've struggling with self-worth all this while. Like the words to the song "try" by John Mayer, "gonna try to be myself although myself will wonder why". I need someone to find the real me. Maybe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19375402-114104375767732089?l=thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/feeds/114104375767732089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19375402&amp;postID=114104375767732089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/114104375767732089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/114104375767732089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/2006/02/try.html' title='try'/><author><name>Cornelius</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12906346816074875982</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-19375402.post-114034346147841706</id><published>2006-02-19T20:18:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2006-02-23T00:32:29.360+10:30</updated><title type='text'>Melbourne trip 2006: numero uno</title><content type='html'>Doing 150 km/hr is a bad idea on the highway. Unless you drive a car with good enough specs. Or just good enough tires. 2 hours into my drive to melbourne, my right rear tyre burst. My life didn't flash before my eyes, and all that came out of my mouth was "SHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT!!". Missed an illuminator marker about 2 armelengths. Once the dust had settled, I tried to start the car but travelling with a busted tire was not exactly the best idea on the highway. Then came my baptism of fire. I had to change a tire. In the dark. All you car enthusiasts can laugh all you want, but having to change it under such conditions is nothing short of terrifying. Especially when truckers are making their runs in their huge-ass trucks, blowing up a mini dust-storm when they come zipping past. I guess I was sorta glad it happened as it's made me take a look at life at a whole new angle. Near-death experiences changes a person like that. Plus the adrenaline rush kept me more or less awake for the whole night drive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Melbourne itself was good. I didn't go shopping though, save the city. Didn't make the Chadstone run. Missed Chapel street. Bridge road and Smith st? pphhh!! It was just a lot of chilling. But what's really priceless were the people that were involved. I made a new friend, gave someone a 2nd chance to know her better and last but not least, a deep and meaningful with my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing I wished Adelaide has is an arcade with proper video games. Like king of fighters. So the prilgrimage to the Bourke St arcade is a must when in Melbourne. It happened on a thursday night after an awkward evening with Steph and Co, but that's another story for another time. So into the arcade, and came out winning my 1st game after losing 10 games. I'm not rusty, jus met my match. So as gamers go, the best leave after losing. Not gonna let you have the satisfaction of having the POSSIBILITY of winning a 2nd game. Most people would be pissed. Believe it or not, it's a mind game. The game doesn't actually end you step out of the door. So once he upped and left, I fiddled with the video game for all of 10 secs and followed suit. Being the childish prick that I was, I deliberately walked past him outside the arcade (Hmm, maybe the game still continues outside the arcade), just to let him know I was after a challenger and not actually wanting to play the game. I then went to the arcade on Russell St, did a round and saw nothing interesting and left. When I stepped outside, I saw the guy who bested me. I did the polite thing and let out an awkward smile while raised his hand for a small wave. I continued on my way for all of 5 secs and this voice in my head said, "what have I got to lose?" So I caught up with him and did an introduction. I was glad he was friendly. Come to think of it, it was pretty risky but hey, what have I got to lose? We exchanged numbers and was supposed to meet up the next day for some for arcade action. I didn't manage to make it due to schedule clashes but really glad I made a new friend. Corny? Hey, all part of the charm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dawn's Estee best friend. I should, by right, do the whole "getting into your good books by getting to know your best friend" gig. But our initial meetings haven't been the best. I thought she was just a showoff with all her Prada, Gucci, LV and Hermes. "Look what my friend got me! This Hermes thing-a-ma-jig." I wasn't impressed. But I managed to bump into her this trip. Come to think of it, I managed to bump into her last year as well. That's like 2 outta my last 4 trips. I probably wouldn't call her but I did bump into her so I did the polite thind and arranged for breakfast. And I was glad I did. I never did go beyond the facade that she built up around herself and she was every bit the friendly person that I never thought she would be. We did a cafe crawl and on the 2nd cafe, on the cobblestoned walkways on Collins St, I had what had to be the best chocolate hazelnut crepes. It's almost orgasmic. So there we were, enjoying the heavenly crepes when a group of 4 girls did a mini photo-shoot at an adjacent dumpster point. It's quirky stuff like that happens and people wouldn't bat an eyelid. Since I couldn't contain my amusement, I decided I wanted in on a piece of the action. So off I went and asked them if they'd pose for me. I'm no professional, so here they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3783/1337/1600/Image%28074%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3783/1337/320/Image%28074%29.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3783/1337/1600/Image%28076%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3783/1337/320/Image%28076%29.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Didn't get their names(what was I thinking?!!) Left them the name of my blog. Hopefully they'll visit and leave a comment. And their numbers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't remember for the life of me when Wen and I had a good heart to heart. I guess it stemmed from the fact I was this in-your-face character she had to show around people in church. It was awkward for her I guess. But on a deeper level it was as if she was ashamed to be associated with me. Not wanting to go into details, we made our peace. Thanks babe. For this has to be the highlight of my trip.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19375402-114034346147841706?l=thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/feeds/114034346147841706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19375402&amp;postID=114034346147841706' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/114034346147841706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/114034346147841706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/2006/02/melbourne-trip-2006-numero-uno.html' title='Melbourne trip 2006: numero uno'/><author><name>Cornelius</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12906346816074875982</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-19375402.post-113668621364734320</id><published>2006-01-08T12:33:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2006-01-08T12:43:12.553+10:30</updated><title type='text'>holdin' on</title><content type='html'>I wish I was stronger. Faster. More in control. Funnier. More articulate. Smarter. But God made me in His image and through that imperfect mirror here I am. And everyday I try to polish this mirror so that I may be like Him someday...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Holdin'on by Citizen Cope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I have been wantin you for so long&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I have been wantin you for so long (so long)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I been down I been down a diferent road&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I been out I have been out of control&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But girl when you touch me that yeah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I get my senses back yeah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But when you touch me that yeah (that yeah)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I get my senses back yeah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So now i'm feelin right&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cuz nothing feels like when you're holdin on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Said I feel alright&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cuz nothing feels like when you're hodin on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I feelin alright&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cuz nothing feels like when you're holdin on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;when you're holdin on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I wanna treat you like you wanna be treated yeah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I wanna see you as you wanna be seen yeah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I been down I been down a different road&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I been out I have been out of control&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But girl when you touch me that yeah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I get my senses back yeah (back yeah)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But when you touch me that yea (that yeah)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I get me sense back yeah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So now i'm feelin right&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cuz nothing feels like when you're holdin on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Said I feel alright&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cuz nothing feels like when you're holdin when you're holdin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I feelin alright&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cuz nothing feels like when you're holdin on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;when you're holdin on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19375402-113668621364734320?l=thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/feeds/113668621364734320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19375402&amp;postID=113668621364734320' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/113668621364734320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/113668621364734320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/2006/01/holdin-on.html' title='holdin&apos; on'/><author><name>Cornelius</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12906346816074875982</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-19375402.post-113660903134506844</id><published>2006-01-07T14:34:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2006-01-08T12:44:19.186+10:30</updated><title type='text'>Who did you think I was?</title><content type='html'>A belated Happy 2006 to all. To the many readers that i don't have, I apologise. All thanks to Cherie, who gave a friendly nudge about updating my blog. Really wish I was back in SG to spend some time with you guys. Good things come to those who wait I guess...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up yesterday with a sense of urgency. I realised I'll turn friggin' 26 with nothing much accomplished. Not raking in the big bucks, no degree yet, nobody to call my own. Maybe this is what's meant by a quarter life crisis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then I look around and I realised that the sum experiences of my life are invaluable. You can't barter it, can't sell it. The relationships that I've formed with the people here in Adelaide and in Singapore has been nothing short of life-enriching. And all the random people that I've met in the weirdest of places (it's gotta do with my penchant for talking to people and being geniune about it) has given me such a myriad experience of feelings. And I must say, I'm am done with loss and grief. I've experienced this combination at this most acute in 2004 and realised it's eaten away my 2005. Forward to new things in 2006 I say. Charmy, if you happen to be reading this, I leave you with this song. Think only the Rachael Yamagata version sits well with me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I wish you love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Goodbye, no use leading with our chins&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This is where our story ends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Never lovers, ever friends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Goodbye, let our hearts call it a day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But before you walk away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I sincerely want to say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I wish you bluebirds in the spring&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;To give your heart a song to sing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And then a kiss, but more than this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I wish you love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And in july a lemonade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;To cool you in some leafy glade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I wish you health&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But more than wealth&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I wish you love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My breaking heart and i agree&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That you and i could never be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So with my best&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My very best&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I set you free&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I wish you shelter from the storm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A cozy fire to keep you warm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But most of all when snowflakes fall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I wish you love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But most of all when snowflakes fall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I wish you love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19375402-113660903134506844?l=thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/feeds/113660903134506844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19375402&amp;postID=113660903134506844' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/113660903134506844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/113660903134506844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/2006/01/who-did-you-think-i-was.html' title='Who did you think I was?'/><author><name>Cornelius</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12906346816074875982</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-19375402.post-113497404578839864</id><published>2005-12-19T16:49:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2005-12-19T17:19:03.710+10:30</updated><title type='text'>Me wear specs, you no like?</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was the day i decided i couldn't do it anymore on my own. the bitching, the complaining, the self-blaming and loathing. I am a new creation in Him, dammit! And I want to live that way. However, today is slacks. Went to the gym and couldn't even sustain for 10 min on the rowing machine. Think cos the top I was wearing showed all my fats, which in turn demotivated me. excuses excuses, bleah.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3783/1337/1600/sexyspeckyblogger.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3783/1337/1600/sexyspeckyblogger.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3783/1337/320/sexyspeckyblogger.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; On a side note, dicovered a &lt;a href="http://flickr.com/photos/tags/sexyspeckyblogger/"&gt;meme&lt;/a&gt; by &lt;a href="http://faithtoh.blogspot.com/"&gt;faithT&lt;/a&gt;, aptly named &lt;a href="http://faithtoh.blogspot.com/2005/12/make-specs-sexy-meme.html"&gt;sexyspeckyblogger&lt;/a&gt; that took up the better part of my arvo. I didn't find the glasses, they found me...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19375402-113497404578839864?l=thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/feeds/113497404578839864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19375402&amp;postID=113497404578839864' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/113497404578839864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/113497404578839864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/2005/12/me-wear-specs-you-no-like.html' title='Me wear specs, you no like?'/><author><name>Cornelius</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12906346816074875982</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-19375402.post-113466498488806951</id><published>2005-12-16T02:38:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2005-12-16T03:13:04.896+10:30</updated><title type='text'>First cut is the deepest (continued...)</title><content type='html'>Over lunch, Lisi told me some geniune pearls of wisdom. Now this was someone who could easily have passed off as 16 leh. But she's 24 and her looks and age dun match..hahaha....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After telling her my sob story, she said over mouthfuls of home-made pasta, "what did you expect from an 18 year-old?" Come to think of it, I could have done worse when I was 18. Mind you, this is not consolation. In the aftermath of the whirlwind romance my state of mind went from "was is something I did or didn't do" to "it's not me it's her". Now it feels better, cos I finally realise it was the psyche of an 18 year-old. Well the psyche of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;THE&lt;/span&gt; 18 year-old. And it truly is time to let go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On an another note--what I almost wanted to treat as spam was actually gd for laughs. There was this marathon event which limpeh run the half marathon. Then I click on the links--not one, but 2 photos wor...so power...maybe cos I'm the slow one that they could get 2 shots of...haha...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of youse interested, go to &lt;a href="http://www.marathon-photos.com"&gt;www.marathon-photos.com&lt;/a&gt; and select sydney marathon on the table on the right. Click red pants and red top (why, limpeh hiao wanna be colour co-ordinated cannot ah?). Gender no need to say, is male hor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19375402-113466498488806951?l=thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/feeds/113466498488806951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19375402&amp;postID=113466498488806951' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/113466498488806951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/113466498488806951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/2005/12/first-cut-is-deepest-continued.html' title='First cut is the deepest (continued...)'/><author><name>Cornelius</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12906346816074875982</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-19375402.post-113462889399557556</id><published>2005-12-15T16:49:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2005-12-16T02:36:10.993+10:30</updated><title type='text'>Attacked by ducks!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3783/1337/1600/Image%28066%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3783/1337/320/Image%28066%29.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My Uni, aside from being screwed up, boasts of a eco-environment. Have lake in the middle which seperates the scientists and engineers from the arts(read:smoke pot all day), business(sells the pot) and law(covers the backsides of those who deal with pot). So with lake in middle smack bang in middle of Uni then must have animals rite? So ducks were free to roam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So happen that when I balek kampong today there was this bunch of ducks near where I parked my car. Raining some more. Technically speaking everywhere water so no need to stay near the lake lah. So when I approached my car, the mother duck ( should be lah,motherfucker..) came at me. Fly 1 round around me nair mind, after land oredi still quack at me some more.. Piangz...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I guess this duck reminds me of my mom. Being protective of me that is. Gosh I miss her...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19375402-113462889399557556?l=thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/feeds/113462889399557556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19375402&amp;postID=113462889399557556' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/113462889399557556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/113462889399557556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/2005/12/attacked-by-ducks.html' title='Attacked by ducks!'/><author><name>Cornelius</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12906346816074875982</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-19375402.post-113461689315691664</id><published>2005-12-15T13:30:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2005-12-15T13:51:33.166+10:30</updated><title type='text'>First cut is the deepest...</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The first cut is the deepest&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I would have given you all of my heart &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;but there's someone who's torn it apart &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;and she's taking almost all that I've got &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;but if you want, I'll try to love again &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;baby I'll try to love again but I know &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The first cut is the deepest, baby I know &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The first cut is the deepest &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'cause when it comes to being lucky she's cursed &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;when it comes to lovin' me she's worst &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;but when it comes to being loved she's first &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;that's how I know &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The first cut is the deepest, baby I know &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The first cut is the deepest &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I still want you by my side &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;just to help me dry the tears that I've cried &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;cause I'm sure gonna give you a try &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;and if you want, I'll try to love again &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;but baby, I'll try to love again, but I know &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The first cut is the deepest, baby I know &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The first cut is the deepest&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was bored enough to go on friendster after a reminder that say saya neber patronise them for a while oredi. So I go lor. Then I see my fren Rita's stat go from "single" to "in a relationship". Wah...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then after some general surfing I went to type her name in "search users". Boredom+curiosity I guess. Bad idea. She has a best fren with the same name.Her profile wasn't there but her fren's was. And it came wif pics. With her in it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yah, limpeh drama. Honestly, if not because I don't have any more tears to shed I would. Friends tell me there'll be others but 1st cut is deepest mah. Tried so many times to put the past behind me but this baggage from 1.5 yrs ago refuses to go away. Or should I say, I don't want to let go...AARRGGHH!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19375402-113461689315691664?l=thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/feeds/113461689315691664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19375402&amp;postID=113461689315691664' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/113461689315691664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/113461689315691664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/2005/12/first-cut-is-deepest.html' title='First cut is the deepest...'/><author><name>Cornelius</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12906346816074875982</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-19375402.post-113443040947893829</id><published>2005-12-13T09:50:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2005-12-13T10:03:29.486+10:30</updated><title type='text'>Something's missing</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was so full-on. 1st day at work at Bilo as night fill. I promise to put the stuff back onto the shelves properly if I put something in my cart and decide to put it back later. Compared to working at Dominoe's, this job is heaps harder. Make till all my limbs wana pit chia oredi. Dominoe's you just drive. The hours go just like liddat. Nabeh, this one, the hours are moderate but move goods until can't feel muscles lah. But I guess the pay is worth it lah. $18 and hour leh, twice that of Dominoe's. Some more have to spend petrol $$, pocket also burn hole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a moment there I wish I was in SG. Darren's wedding was on. Almost the whole primary school gang was there. And I'm missing my favourite foods...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19375402-113443040947893829?l=thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/feeds/113443040947893829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19375402&amp;postID=113443040947893829' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/113443040947893829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/113443040947893829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/2005/12/somethings-missing.html' title='Something&apos;s missing'/><author><name>Cornelius</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12906346816074875982</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-19375402.post-113421940791832842</id><published>2005-12-10T22:43:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2005-12-10T23:26:47.943+10:30</updated><title type='text'>I am the man on the side</title><content type='html'>Quite excited today cos gonna meet Mandy. Haven't seen her in ages. Even went to the trouble of getting a haircut. Then she fly limpeh airplane. Nabeh! Say she not feeling well. She play limpeh out a couple of times oredi. Always last min say something come up. But if genuine reason u can't do anything rite? Suck thumb lor. Well at least we're gonna meet tomolo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bec smsed me todae. Knew her thru another fren but she also dunno fly where oredi.  Was pretty shocked to to be informed of her break-up. Why so shocked is cos only in july she announce her engagement. I guess when u dun see yourself spending the rest of your life with a  person, that's the only way to go. Gotta do what the heart says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This gem of a song for people who are waiting for someone to make up their minds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Man  on the side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; six numbers, one more to dial&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; before I'm before you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I tried to call&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; been busy all night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; gave up waiting at daylight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; excuse me Mrs. Busybody&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; could you pencil me in when you can&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; though we both know that the worst part about it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; is I would be free when you wanted me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; if you wanted me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I am the man on the side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; hoping you'll make up your mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I am the one who will swallow his pride&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; life as the man on the side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; one of the many&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; one of the few&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; to stand back and wait for you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; excuse me Mrs. Busybody&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; could you pencil me in when you can&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; though we both know that the worst part about it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; is I would be free when you wanted me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; if you wanted me, if you wanted me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I am the man on the side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; hoping you'll make up your mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I am the one who will swallow his pride&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Life as the man on the side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Life as the man on the side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I fell in love with the dream that I built of you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; playing the part of the queen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; taking my own advice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I'm giving up tonight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; good luck to you and the king&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I know of such a guy by the name of Daniel. I'm sure we could've been friends...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19375402-113421940791832842?l=thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/feeds/113421940791832842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19375402&amp;postID=113421940791832842' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/113421940791832842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/113421940791832842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/2005/12/i-am-man-on-side.html' title='I am the man on the side'/><author><name>Cornelius</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12906346816074875982</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-19375402.post-113413001406125480</id><published>2005-12-09T21:31:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2005-12-15T13:30:20.173+10:30</updated><title type='text'>I've got half a smile and zero shame</title><content type='html'>1st and foremost, this is a blog to exorcise my demons. To complain, bitch and kaopehkaobu(henceforth known as kpkb). Yesh, limpeh knows thats &lt;a href="http://www.blinkymummy.blogspot.com/"&gt;blinkymummy&lt;/a&gt; oredi uses this. Buay song, sue lah. Scared leh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must admit, this blog is not very the frenly for those speaking the good english. Engrish is splattered about. Sorry Steph, I am a fob (fresh off boat) after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've moved into the new place for about 2 weeks and everything's been fine so far. The only grouse is that it's actually a &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/81686936@N00/71881104/"&gt;converted living room&lt;/a&gt;, so the lack of a proper door bothers me. There's only this &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/81686936@N00/71883267/"&gt;sliding door&lt;/a&gt;. There's actually this &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/81686936@N00/71876926/in/photostream/"&gt;doorway that's been convered up by some posters stuck together and a wardrobe to hide it&lt;/a&gt;. Should've inspected it properly but $60 a week, can't kaopeh lah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was damn ultimate. I &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/81686936@N00/71885304/in/set-1545499/"&gt;knocked my car&lt;/a&gt;, again! 3 accidents in 2 months. Pua cheebye! They have sections allotted for trolleys at shopping malls but the bars are to knee height. When I tried to turn out, I didn't move the car out enough. Next thing limpeh hear is "bang!" Followed by "fuck! Gan pua lin nabeh chao cheebye! nabeh cheebye fuck!" All to pick up a watch that was fixed. Nabeh! At this rate limpeh's car no need to fix oredi lah. Scrap also nobody want. Then the see char bor who kiss my car still dun want to return my call. Neber get her claim number then cannot fix car lah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 days ago, she messaged me on msn. Quite surprised cos it's the 1st time she's initiated conversation. People who know better tell me that she was just bored and said hi to the 1st familiar face. My heart tells me the same.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19375402-113413001406125480?l=thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/feeds/113413001406125480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19375402&amp;postID=113413001406125480' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/113413001406125480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19375402/posts/default/113413001406125480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thevillagebicycle.blogspot.com/2005/12/ive-got-half-smile-and-zero-shame.html' title='I&apos;ve got half a smile and zero shame'/><author><name>Cornelius</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12906346816074875982</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></feed>
