tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170787782024-03-07T23:50:09.855+08:00Eternal OptimistUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger278125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-39414680348655995952010-02-13T16:47:00.002+08:002010-02-13T16:51:09.967+08:00Moved!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8N_B-AM4BRHzVbZA8BEFXUPxRA-5cE9Wo7HSOC-HFd1kP42yNG2dQHUhl3aJZ5CMUM0HwPVttxW6gLS-atd0yPnlIwTcBEcda7FEyvzjSAnQ6QY3OPdvm4gy2AiQpmKWszth/s1600-h/MovedSign.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8N_B-AM4BRHzVbZA8BEFXUPxRA-5cE9Wo7HSOC-HFd1kP42yNG2dQHUhl3aJZ5CMUM0HwPVttxW6gLS-atd0yPnlIwTcBEcda7FEyvzjSAnQ6QY3OPdvm4gy2AiQpmKWszth/s400/MovedSign.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437647376969105858" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">New year, new beginnings.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Skip over <a href="http://thechowchow.wordpress.com/">here</a> if you wanna move with me.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-3670577019921123952010-02-09T23:35:00.004+08:002010-02-09T23:58:22.286+08:00My Favourite Things<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4yCz3SXAL0yiXZzLkHrUE6_Wmwvi7e9Ws7_2avoSpl93DGbdT5zXDNCVvvCuLqWRrVJN3hZL4sc2G7z3ITsCL6MKtLy5zhGAJnnQGulY4GB0OZHMAvv3MOO4o4MyqBH3XNvI/s1600-h/sound+of+music.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 319px; height: 318px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4yCz3SXAL0yiXZzLkHrUE6_Wmwvi7e9Ws7_2avoSpl93DGbdT5zXDNCVvvCuLqWRrVJN3hZL4sc2G7z3ITsCL6MKtLy5zhGAJnnQGulY4GB0OZHMAvv3MOO4o4MyqBH3XNvI/s400/sound+of+music.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436270841414162402" /></a><div>Suddenly thought of the songs from the Sound of Music. I cannot effectively articulate how deep an impact the movie had on me as a child. The familiarity with every song, dialogue and scene gives me a queer, warm feeling. It may be difficult for you to understand such deep love for something. But I do love things with a passion. Though none has come close as my love for the Sound of Music. Not even the Backstreet Boys. Okay, maybe BSB is about 4mm apart.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here are some of my favourites songs (i.e. every song in the musical, haha). Nah, I'll just link up some that you may be familiar with, help you stir up some innocent memories :)</div><div><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/13f044H3PH0&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/13f044H3PH0&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i>Do Re Mi</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">. A breathtaking piece.</span></b></div></div><div><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tfbB0p-yyLA&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tfbB0p-yyLA&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /></div><div><b><i>My Favourite Things.</i></b> This video is a nice compilation that made me smile :)</div><div><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2bRjbWV7T-s&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2bRjbWV7T-s&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><i><b>So Long Farewell</b></i>. Darn cute.</div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-48718211283535334142010-01-31T18:02:00.009+08:002010-02-10T00:18:50.814+08:00Wolf Howling, Spring Cleaning<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.squidoo.com/resize/squidoo_images/-1/draft_lens4027002module27087552photo_1239601651dark_moon.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 516px; height: 484px;" src="http://static.squidoo.com/resize/squidoo_images/-1/draft_lens4027002module27087552photo_1239601651dark_moon.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><div style="text-align: left;">Do you know that during days surrounding the full moon every month, it is widely believed that human beings are more jittery and flare up more than usual? We all have an inner werewolf in us.</div><div><br /></div><div>Like the effect of full moon on us, Her Royal Majesty's behaviour is just as affected by another astrological phenomena - the first day of the lunar year, generally known as Chinese New Year. As the day of red packets and bak kwa close in on us, Her Supreme Highness is exhibiting signs of bad temper while she goes about the annual spring cleaning regiment.</div><div><br /></div><div>It really is a nuisance to listen to her relentless tirades. Even when she is not within sight, our ears are not spared on how we are not filial, how we ungrateful we are, and nonsense like that. The scene will remind you of the deranged old woman who sits alone at the void deck spouting insults at no one in particular.</div><div><br /></div><div>After 20 years of the similar treatment, us mere mortals learn to be careful not to step on her toes and go about our duties before she directs her attention on us.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>This post started out as a reminiscence of the forgotten things I found during spring cleaning. Turns out to be an angsty rant against the Celestial Queen. Feels like 14 years old all over again. Haha. Will write about my old stuff in another post.</i></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-46681418136707528172010-01-30T00:04:00.002+08:002010-01-30T00:08:28.944+08:00Siang vs. Xiang: Progress Report (Jan 2010)2 weeks into challenge,<br /><br />Xiang: Can breathe freely in an old dress which once became too tight to wear.<br /><br />Siang: Appetite escalated.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-84131365362989802572010-01-24T12:28:00.002+08:002010-01-31T18:53:29.325+08:00开学恐惧症<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://astro.swarthmore.edu/~burns/images/hate_school.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 321px; height: 388px;" src="http://astro.swarthmore.edu/~burns/images/hate_school.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>If you observed the following symptoms (1 day - 1 week before school starts) in your little sister, you can be sure that she has a phobia of starting school:<div><br /></div><div><ol><li>A bout of stomach aches and dizziness (not faked). The fear conditioned her body to display biological symptoms in order to skip school.</li><li>An irrational display of tantrums, "I want to wear Hello Kitty shoes!" in the middle of the night.</li><li>An attack of anxiety. Never go out with family on the Sunday before school starts because there's bound to be some unfinished holiday homework. It's always a bummer to need to return home in the middle of a movie just cos there's a "week's worth of Maths assignment to be handed in the next morning".</li></ol><div>This is a condition the family has to endure throughout the little sister's school life. Oh, remember to check that the uniform still fits after a short 4-week school holiday. You don't want to have the unpleasant shock that she doesn't have any fitting uniform on the first day's morning.</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-48233835988708631822010-01-24T11:08:00.004+08:002010-01-24T11:35:52.380+08:00Bedroom Concert<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE6eGwZX0IPu6ancA19P7knV0Wc-D5oEqwotPlKS0x6A4HFMktsG-cotKv8qGx4J8EILx30VZ94mACiuUJ1yRzguOq_m95alEnlw4ZdGxLcDeLtrjCoJzyg5ZroD7G2wIBR7y6/s1600-h/200265812-001.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 390px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE6eGwZX0IPu6ancA19P7knV0Wc-D5oEqwotPlKS0x6A4HFMktsG-cotKv8qGx4J8EILx30VZ94mACiuUJ1yRzguOq_m95alEnlw4ZdGxLcDeLtrjCoJzyg5ZroD7G2wIBR7y6/s400/200265812-001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430138781362333010" /></a>There are so many things you can do in the privacy of your bedroom. Such as singing and dancing in your undies. ('Tis not my example. Just AN example.)<div><br /></div><div>My favourite bedroom activity is to hold a Bedroom Concert.</div><div><br /></div><div>Gasp! You mean you have never held a bedroom concert??! I tell you, it's the shiok-est thing!</div><div><br /></div><div>You have never pranced around the room holding a hairbrush as a microphone? Or jumped on the bed belting out your favourite songs? It would be half-hearted if you just mouthed the words with the actual song playing on laptop. You need to sing every note with gusto to show that you are a serious singer. By the end of it, you should be feeling as breathless as you would have been if the concert was held in the Singapore Indoor Stadium.</div><div><br /></div><div>That night, I had an encore segment that overran the time limit. My fans were so enthusiastic I couldn't disappoint them right? :D</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-75664604067184089672010-01-24T10:49:00.007+08:002010-01-24T11:23:29.404+08:00Mighty Mouse<div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://wiimedia.ign.com/wii/image/article/971/971317/g-force-pics-20090408044302943_640w.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 362px; height: 480px;" src="http://wiimedia.ign.com/wii/image/article/971/971317/g-force-pics-20090408044302943_640w.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>My friend has a cage of 3 greying hamsters which he wasn't allowed to bring to his new chichi apartment. He asked if I could take the poor little things under my wing at Jalan Tenaga. To which, of course I refused. I'm not fond of animals of any kind.<div><br /></div><div>To make his case stronger, he proposed that if I met with any danger, these hamsters would turn into Mighty Mice and fly out of their cage (with cape flapping behind their backs) to save me.</div><div><br /></div><div>The imagery cracks me up no end.</div><div><br /></div><div>P/s The picture above is not a hamster.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-57939873547693444492010-01-12T00:08:00.005+08:002010-01-12T01:04:33.889+08:00The Biggest Loser: Siang vs Xiang Edition<div>In the name of good health (in actuality, vanity), my boo and I have pitted ourselves against each other for our own version of The Biggest Loser.</div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div>Duration: 6 months</div><div>Challenge: Be slimmer and fitter than the other</div><div><br /></div><div>First measure: How many layers at the stomach each has when we sit and slouch?</div><div>Second measure: How much of the belly sticks out of hip when standing?</div><div>Third measure: How perky is the butt?</div><div>Fourth measure: Is there visible cellulite?</div><div>(more to be set as we progress)</div><div><br /></div><div>He claims that while his stomach is bigger, it's hard and taut - strong muscles. *pui* I say it's hard and taut from too much beer.</div><div><br /></div><div>Part of the strategy to win is also to tempt the other to eat more. So that he/she can be fatter and flabbier. And Bedok 85 is the ultimate challenge of determination.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The moment you step into the area, smells of barbecued food attack your nostrils and you salivate. Your stomach churns in happiness at the prospect of receiving the guilty pleasures.</div><div><br /></div><div><div>At Bedok 85, you have to learn to be a monk in a brothel - <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">nothing is temptation, temptation is nothing</span> (空既是色,色既是空). Amitabha.</div><div><br /></div></div><div>To win, not only we need to resist, we need to use all of our cunning to coax each other to eat oilier and more fattening food. For example, he'll nod his head towards the neighbouring table which has a plate of newly grilled, juicy and crispy chicken wings. Today, I gulped, clenched my fists and looked away. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Victory</span>!</div><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes, I suggest "Let's have grass jelly, it's really hot today." He will grunt (as if trying very hard not to agree), "No, there's too much sugar in that drink."</div><div><br /></div><div>The first week has just started. I'll try to document our progress. May the best man win.</div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-29103577475906748242010-01-04T01:31:00.003+08:002010-01-04T01:48:54.374+08:00Traffic Lights (Another Bites The Dust)<div>And so, another of you decided to join the dark side. Congrats and much love!!</div><div><br /></div><div>*****</div><div><br /></div>At the beginning of Uni orientation, we are supposed to tell our group members a bit about ourselves. To make it easier to define our relationship status, we have to indicate whether we belong to the Red, Green or Amber categories.<div><br /></div><div>Red - Attached, Taken, Unavailable</div><div>Green - Single, Available</div><div>Amber - It's complicated.</div><div><br /></div><div>But as we progress through the age boxes, these 3 may not be enough to define the stages of life we belong to. This is how I categorise my girl friends.</div><div><br /></div><div>2 - Green Light</div><div>2 - Red Light</div><div>1 - Amber Light</div><div>2 - New car (Engaged)</div><div>1 - Car parked (Married. Gasp!)</div><div>0 - Car scrapped (With kids. Oh, the horror!!!)</div><div><br /></div><div>You know who you are :D</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-24581060071358084462009-11-11T23:01:00.003+08:002009-11-11T23:23:42.245+08:00I Only Need One EZ Link Card In My Purse<div>Dear product designers of credit cards/ loyalty cards/ membership cards/ staff passes etc,</div><div><br /></div><div>Please stop adding EZ Link function to your cards. At the rate you are "revamping" your cards, I'll need to get 12 separate purses to store my 19 cards. Or I won't be able to get up the bus cos the reader can't read multiple EZ Link linked cards in one purse.</div><div><br /></div><div>I suppose you drive a lovely BMW and have never taken the public transport in the past 5 years. It must have made perfect sense to you add the one most important need of common consumers - convenience of not having multiple EZ Link cards cos "I already have the EZ Link function in a DBS Live Fresh card". However, you have forgotten that "I also own UOB One Card and 2 EZ Link cards". Already, I'll have 4 different purses for these cards.</div><div><br /></div><div>A friendly opinion - It would have save you a lot of money if some market research was done before hand.</div><div><br /></div><div>From the common commuter,</div><div>Chowchow</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-34169132133242278002009-11-10T00:29:00.000+08:002009-11-10T00:31:22.799+08:00The Lies Of CelebritiesMy boss who used to be part of the BSB team disclosed another piece of insider info - Sometimes, 'autographed' items may not be signed by the artistes themselves. To save the hassle, their managers or their assistants just forged the artistes' signatures.<br /><br />In conjunction with our endorsers' press tour over the weekend, we got them to sign a hundred posters and notebooks. They managed to sign all in one night. I wonder...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-48399680196812635222009-10-31T22:37:00.004+08:002009-11-01T01:41:23.110+08:00Our Cinderella Love StoryThis week's i-Weekly cover story is on the evolution of modern day princes. I wanna give my 2cents worth for I am one who can't resist a fairytale love story. I will start by describing two most desirable kind of guys who exist mainly in TV dramas.<br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">The One with the Silver Spoon</span><br />Do you remember Tokyo Cinderella Love Story? I think Karasawa Toshiaki was every teenage girl's fantasy boyfriend in 1996. The rich heir to a powerful family business only has eyes for a plain Jane because she is kind, sincere and not pretentious. He will romance her in ways that the man on the street will never be able to. Like this:<div><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wnmDsd5Wf3Y&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wnmDsd5Wf3Y&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><div><br /></div><div>To have a man who has everything to worship you, what more can you ask for?<br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">The Bad Boy</span><br />Bad boys are attractive because they are reckless. Their rule bending ways give girls a sense of adventure, which make their lives exciting. He will be mean to everyone, especially the girl. But the rare moments of TLC to the girl will send hearts a-fluttering. Less is more - We get really silly when it comes to bad boys :) Also, the girl's maternal instinct will want to tame the bad boy so that he will settle down with her. The idea of the bad boy changing his ways <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">for</span> her is a dream come true.<br /><br />Recent years, idol dramas have created a hybrid of the above 2 categories - the bad/mean/naughty rich heir. Which made them all the more desirable.<br /><br />The Cinderella love story is an evergreen fantasy. With time, it will just be packaged in different ways.<br /><br />My own Cinderella fantasy is being the apple of the eye of a pop star. He has the world at his feet but only has eyes for me *swoons*</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-59070032366387336622009-10-25T00:14:00.004+08:002009-10-25T00:36:41.916+08:00Afternoon Sips<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6YICQUHa67eRPqsJhadrWUD85UTrA4Wi3WjFG7Di6JvBKcaValUngaQzWZvK8yc9jONWxnEtIeIzvG0oWX7JMVncwPIb3KMia0DwwZKVzrdeVFemsG1ylMPmvs1soxdvzakUV/s1600-h/P1040343.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6YICQUHa67eRPqsJhadrWUD85UTrA4Wi3WjFG7Di6JvBKcaValUngaQzWZvK8yc9jONWxnEtIeIzvG0oWX7JMVncwPIb3KMia0DwwZKVzrdeVFemsG1ylMPmvs1soxdvzakUV/s400/P1040343.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396205995719108674" /></a><div>I'm very much taken to the French habit of drinking wine any time of the day.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I tried to convince the girls to open a bottle of Lambrusco today. It's sparkling <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">red</span> dessert wine. You see, the French (or Belgians) scorned white wine cos they felt that white wine would never be as refined as red wine. And we amateurs like white wine mainly cos of its sweetness. So dessert red wine would be a good introduction to actual red wine. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Oh the atrocity!</span> Evon would look at me in exasperation.</div><div><br /></div><div>But the girls didn't want to try...</div><div><br /></div><div>After the very delicious Italian fare at Robertson Quay this afternoon, I couldn't resist ordering a glass of wine to clear my palate from the rich creamy pasta - taking cue from my Belgian friends.</div><div><br /></div><div>I really like the idea of drinking wine on a lazy afternoon over long lunches with dear friends. Oh my, am I turning French? :D</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-42144295719930561172009-10-25T00:01:00.003+08:002009-10-25T00:13:24.646+08:00The Best And Worst AirportsJust saw this <a href="http://sg.news.yahoo.com/rtrs/20091023/tap-airports-worst-c3bb44c.html">article</a>.<div><br /></div><div>I realised I passed through the world's worst and best airports in a space of 2 weeks.</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, I don't know about it being the worst or not, but the London Heathrow Airport was rather dismal. Among other things, the only directions were all over the place, the officials there barked at me for being confused.</div><div><br /></div><div>And Charles de Gaulle lost a piece of my luggage.</div><div><br /></div><div>Home is always the most inviting :) Way to go, Changi!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-80063027155530448372009-10-15T23:29:00.006+08:002009-10-16T00:25:08.013+08:00The Love Of Eating And Cooking<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://pmf1852.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/julie_and_julia_poster.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 294px; height: 436px;" src="http://pmf1852.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/julie_and_julia_poster.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><div style="text-align: left;">I just caught Julie and Julia with Angela today. While I guess it would not score very high with movie critics, I think it is absolutely delightful. Perhaps it's such joy to see people enjoy their food so much, like myself. I loved Meryl Streep's adorable expressions when she ate something delicious. I suspect that's how I look when I like what I am eating. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Actually I think I look like I enjoy my food too much. So much that people develop the perception that I eat a lot. I admit that I can plough through dish after dish if there is no one there to stop me. I am sort of a marathoner when it comes to eating. I can't do short sprints. Let me have my food slowly and I can be the last man standing at a long meal.</div><div><br /></div><div>While I enjoy eating and eating (good food only, thank you very much), it becomes embarrassing when people start to make comments like, "I love eating with Melissa. I like to see her devour her food. Very good!" That came from my COO. And he will order a second serving of rice just for me, without asking.</div><div><br /></div><div>And when colleagues were jokingly promoting me as a potential girlfriend for another colleague, his first reaction was, "No lah! Melissa eats too much!"</div><div><br /></div><div>And when opening a time capsule put together with the girls 5 years ago, I read that one of the messages calls me "Chowchow the bottomless pit".</div><div><br /></div><div>Or towards the end of a meal, when everyone can't finish the last piece of food on every dish, "Don't worry, Melissa can polish it off."</div><div><br /></div><div>Once and for all, I wanna announce that I am going to shake this label off! Please do not encourage me to clear the food left on the table. I need to train my stomach to expect less food every meal.</div><div><br /></div><div>As for love of cooking, I have zero talent/patience for it. Leave it to my boo to savour that. I will handle the eating part. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-84657377542272258852009-10-15T23:18:00.004+08:002010-01-24T11:48:53.657+08:00Wow<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/zqYmEaUeV64&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/zqYmEaUeV64&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><div><br /></div><div>This is my song of the moment. It's on repeat on my iTunes. It's my ringtone. It's my wake-up call. It just wakes up my every nerve. Who needs coffee when there is music?!</div><div><br /></div><div>Can't get it out of my head! Lurve it!</div><div><br /></div><div>P/s Couldn't find a video clip that allows me to embed. So I took this instead.</div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-11545506062471676362009-10-04T19:27:00.004+08:002009-10-06T00:05:23.829+08:00Difference Between 18 and 25 Years Old"We still have the same dreams when we had at 18. The only difference is that we are now financially able to chase the dream."<div>- Poffy</div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-16515625374840952032009-09-28T02:27:00.003+08:002009-09-28T02:39:15.382+08:00InfamousCan't believe this! I was checking my blog tracker and realised I have a lot of visitors from football forum pages. They were particularly drawn to the Chester City section. From the looks of the threads, they were highly amused.<div><br /></div><div>Check them out <a href="http://www.devachat.com/index.php?showtopic=58464">here</a>, <a href="http://www.redpassion.co.uk/forums/wrexham/43472-dean-saunders-chester-city-fan.html">here</a> and <a href="http://www.footballforums.net/forums/showthread.php?t=222873">here</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div>To the Chester City fans, *waves from the sunny shores of Singapore*! I was trying to highlight how well equipped your club was. In comparison, the teams in our local football league have much room to improve.</div><div><br /></div><div>I had a great time at your stadium. It was a unique experience that few of my friends will encounter. Hope I will have a chance to visit again :)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-72587566657026580372009-09-27T18:12:00.006+08:002009-09-27T19:23:46.988+08:00Chow In Europe '09: Hard Day's Night Edition<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://thehottestgadgets.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/beatles.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 336px; height: 337px;" src="http://thehottestgadgets.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/beatles.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><div>I confess that I don't feel a connection to the Beatles. I didn't grow up with their music. (Gimme MJ anyday.) But I still had to go through the memory lane, didn't I? Their influence was legendary! I wanted to feel it for myself too.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>An extract from The Time Traveller's Wife:<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-style: italic; line-height: 19px; font-family:verdana;font-size:13px;"></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-style: italic; line-height: 19px;font-family:verdana;font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-style: italic; line-height: 19px; font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">She looks up. “Henry, who’s your favorite Beatle?” </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-style: italic; line-height: 19px; font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“John. Of course.” </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-style: italic; line-height: 19px; font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“Why ‘of course’?” </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-style: italic; line-height: 19px; font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“Well, Ringo is okay but kind of a sad sack, you know? And George is a little too New Age for my taste.” </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-style: italic; line-height: 19px; font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“What’s ‘New Age’?” </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-style: italic; line-height: 19px; font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“Oddball religions. Sappy boring music. Pathetic attempt to convince oneself of the superiority of anything connected with Indians. Non-Western medicine.” </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-style: italic; line-height: 19px; font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“But you don’t like regular medicine.” </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-style: italic; line-height: 19px; font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“That’s because doctors are always trying to tell me I’m crazy. If I have a broken arm I would be a big fan of Western medicine.” </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-style: italic; line-height: 19px; font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“What about Paul?” </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-style: italic; line-height: 19px; font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“Paul is for girls.” </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-style: italic; line-height: 19px; font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Clare smiles, shyly. “I like Paul best.” </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-style: italic; line-height: 19px; font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“Well, you’re a girl.” </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-style: italic; line-height: 19px; font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“Why is Paul for girls?” </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-style: italic; line-height: 19px; font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Tread carefully, I tell myself. “Uh, gee. Paul is, like, the Nice Beatle, you know?” </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-style: italic; line-height: 19px; font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“Is that bad?” </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-style: italic; line-height: 19px; font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“No, not at all. But guys are more interested in being cool, and John is the Cool Beatle.” </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-style: italic; line-height: 19px; font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“Oh. But he is dead.” </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-style: italic; line-height: 19px; font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I laughed. “You can still be cool when you’re dead. In fact, it’s much easier, because you aren’t getting old and fat and losing your hair.”</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Cos of this excerpt, I paid more attention to Paul and John in all the memorabilia. And Paul <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">was</span> so cute. Always great at making the cutest expressions. Now... I think he looks like a chikopek.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ghostradio.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/paul-mccartney-toking.jpg"><img src="http://ghostradio.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/paul-mccartney-toking.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 450px; height: 479px; " /></a></div><div>It's sad how age catches up with us.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, back in Liverpool, we took a trip down their past, where they began.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz_6lDGdm2ooWi9nGuRbiG6zmYy2SmyKoeWYHh-9CSOrB-ozlat1bryS9Nfv01BdAShTP_q6L7tYxRns9F9eO499jHHkeWMnPb-noyIYrvL0AM79LT3jjEVzN6sdXt8_Wedf9X/s1600-h/P1030803.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz_6lDGdm2ooWi9nGuRbiG6zmYy2SmyKoeWYHh-9CSOrB-ozlat1bryS9Nfv01BdAShTP_q6L7tYxRns9F9eO499jHHkeWMnPb-noyIYrvL0AM79LT3jjEVzN6sdXt8_Wedf9X/s400/P1030803.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386098309782400658" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG3qAYwAv2GVaU-JAOJhSCDvq-tTt5MN-okBaMrUfTHK20qtFaTgCvcWLdAf4gDUhWFfczxJDMivfnXnGEtdETkpkINJC0ERhNXAG0iNXneh8IZI-g5RoPuilV8j3ICSsLz5EZ/s1600-h/P1030810.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG3qAYwAv2GVaU-JAOJhSCDvq-tTt5MN-okBaMrUfTHK20qtFaTgCvcWLdAf4gDUhWFfczxJDMivfnXnGEtdETkpkINJC0ERhNXAG0iNXneh8IZI-g5RoPuilV8j3ICSsLz5EZ/s400/P1030810.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386098324443786978" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj63xii3r9X1b-7qOYM5XHYmOb-w1zJOj310FRFVIFblHTrV7aF20QF4rpluXhw5FeJU6ythGMVrXtki2q0D8jRuD5SMmusKwhJ7sWqHLO-39WRwYsIxZh4bOyTfEiAMxLddqOB/s1600-h/P1030817.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj63xii3r9X1b-7qOYM5XHYmOb-w1zJOj310FRFVIFblHTrV7aF20QF4rpluXhw5FeJU6ythGMVrXtki2q0D8jRuD5SMmusKwhJ7sWqHLO-39WRwYsIxZh4bOyTfEiAMxLddqOB/s400/P1030817.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386098338190022498" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>We visited the pub where they first started out and got the attention of their manager.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo2ymh3bXWXys2QR9U0XbcewVLqiL4Z9k3U5u_Zv0TfUJR01X2Wpq9BFN0BCTxGtgv1C7svyBkFt3mECwT9nKJtpgew6tC9CdBMjo1Rij1HTU_EgH0GPV62wdZ1w0fJBYDUwqn/s1600-h/P1030856.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo2ymh3bXWXys2QR9U0XbcewVLqiL4Z9k3U5u_Zv0TfUJR01X2Wpq9BFN0BCTxGtgv1C7svyBkFt3mECwT9nKJtpgew6tC9CdBMjo1Rij1HTU_EgH0GPV62wdZ1w0fJBYDUwqn/s400/P1030856.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386101041250888690" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs1hjoGMDwOFaA9QTjqibKmtOSpK-wib_rsBzULIki9HtqQI4XiWrs-YuQjvYsYEuDecVxu24zIpmFP-Hsw_lgOpOPwW_S1vSHBgUScMePOOLuMvHO1kD_jaik4tL-5oAiUg12/s1600-h/P1040090.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs1hjoGMDwOFaA9QTjqibKmtOSpK-wib_rsBzULIki9HtqQI4XiWrs-YuQjvYsYEuDecVxu24zIpmFP-Hsw_lgOpOPwW_S1vSHBgUScMePOOLuMvHO1kD_jaik4tL-5oAiUg12/s400/P1040090.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386101049872848946" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipqPn0cEfEaqpxHWMNsddfCvUsKb0qgG-9L22f7nBxftb8Q9LxPgbQgNmWupiPZ6MknbQ81td0Q3TFpF8x8KnMslcBWNtleIZiejgxx0K-4OimV_c3qZ1GcLfSf6N6jD69hK3m/s1600-h/P1040095.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipqPn0cEfEaqpxHWMNsddfCvUsKb0qgG-9L22f7nBxftb8Q9LxPgbQgNmWupiPZ6MknbQ81td0Q3TFpF8x8KnMslcBWNtleIZiejgxx0K-4OimV_c3qZ1GcLfSf6N6jD69hK3m/s400/P1040095.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386101057767556706" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>And bought some collectibles.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ7jY2l6W1YDCNtv7-9y7EpR5QBENm1gKlOeIY4MoBNmbTPsMuVGu_iTKHuXFE0c88YQZDvBSHrb2YiR5NcpQPv68RSDpXrQRa9XdqAcxLRLgsPM18Q3IYJ4Lq7VzRGAGJaqe-/s1600-h/P1030878.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ7jY2l6W1YDCNtv7-9y7EpR5QBENm1gKlOeIY4MoBNmbTPsMuVGu_iTKHuXFE0c88YQZDvBSHrb2YiR5NcpQPv68RSDpXrQRa9XdqAcxLRLgsPM18Q3IYJ4Lq7VzRGAGJaqe-/s400/P1030878.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386105867160399266" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div>Okay, I'm not elaborating anymore. Running off to the Padang to meet the BSB (my Beatles) now!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-52314841493281973842009-09-26T10:25:00.005+08:002009-09-26T10:54:28.630+08:00French KissingThe beautiful French like to kiss and hug on the streets.<div><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhlRiphtOhEzk_vablvWUflpV48qpjbdHEC7BHirXUPXPVrMmo0OBPTGyVlwFmxO2pBFeW6o-zX1R8O5mL8uaIo0cSXOGfqmIY_-GYRwPFVU9s5HJ75i2iOLyRxKdwRUL0dJAU/s400/P1040769.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385597587243142530" /></div><div>I like that very much. I'll do that more often - just being French :)<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-41086626053657432082009-09-26T01:02:00.020+08:002009-09-26T03:28:03.214+08:00Chow In Europe '09: Football Crazy Edition<div style="text-align: left;">UK is a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">football crazy</span> nation. It spawned a highly profitable industry.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I was very lucky to catch 2 live matches during my short stay in Liverpool. I'm a MU supporter. Stepping into the home ground of our bitter rival is considered blasphemy. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to catch an MU match as they were in Turkey for an away game. So had to make do with Liverpool's game. Still it was un-missible - a real live British football match.</div><div><br /></div><div>By the way, my boo is a Liverpool fan. So it was a dream come true for him.</div><div><br /></div><div>Before the game, we were invited as VIP guests to a match played by teams in a lower division. Even our local host didn't know which division they belonged to. The game was in the neighbouring town of Chester.</div><div><br /></div><div>A small team like Chester City FC already has an actual stadium, full fledged VIP pampering service, complete with regular programme booklets and full-time working staff and footballers. The footballers from such a small team earn about 3000-4000 pounds a month. That's why every boy wants to be a professional footballer. If luck strikes, they will propel to super stardom. If not, they can still earn a decent income comparable to normal executives.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcrLPy-Ewrp-jDGSopEXzFtfq5I2yEgbmoHWXog3HyMI4Aq2uSTRe2pah_Rdqkm5DnEisI9qUZhRRqKN8buftralQoMULfKOInkNP_aWPnMB0XUrZnmHz50dQmQk-d1D6ZPEO/s1600-h/P1030736.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcrLPy-Ewrp-jDGSopEXzFtfq5I2yEgbmoHWXog3HyMI4Aq2uSTRe2pah_Rdqkm5DnEisI9qUZhRRqKN8buftralQoMULfKOInkNP_aWPnMB0XUrZnmHz50dQmQk-d1D6ZPEO/s400/P1030736.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385465720017112674" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi0BCpyDJgW2GYw-NUPQl6w_gdcifskOnijCEx6ONLGHnWaaLxyXF_HU2aTBGYU7t-WwameCMAxTHAmqFXGMgFhJILkCYE2eRV_6rzgIqXRisUg2LsBIYz0v4mV2eiuGXA3ztd/s1600-h/P1030739.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi0BCpyDJgW2GYw-NUPQl6w_gdcifskOnijCEx6ONLGHnWaaLxyXF_HU2aTBGYU7t-WwameCMAxTHAmqFXGMgFhJILkCYE2eRV_6rzgIqXRisUg2LsBIYz0v4mV2eiuGXA3ztd/s400/P1030739.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385465740285075266" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI38Ra1A2x3LUtjfK0UmBRVK7kBi_zRGbFShCx0UXbJgl2ljbeeQ8vVA8OFQklvwgl5zmiAdrsDyWYGkomlWuTCPv8fvIAcK0FWGOixToySsxr2HkuCBFHaFmopo0DBwhh7-v5/s1600-h/P1030737.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI38Ra1A2x3LUtjfK0UmBRVK7kBi_zRGbFShCx0UXbJgl2ljbeeQ8vVA8OFQklvwgl5zmiAdrsDyWYGkomlWuTCPv8fvIAcK0FWGOixToySsxr2HkuCBFHaFmopo0DBwhh7-v5/s400/P1030737.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385465726878744226" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div>As I said, football is big business in UK.</div><div><br /></div><div>The game ended 2-1 to the home team. They have actual supporters who buy season tickets to their matches okay? Maybe in 20 years' time, they can reach the ranks of the English Premier League.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghM8ommXPOFg94vQBgXJDFXruwaoZtIloVrUWK2t2rkex60CsKFxEplYmYmmyz3VpJTNuixx2H3sA8sTVw1dbBeS4MIbms10SCfjlOX88F0eOIOYTV_Gygq5E7ivt9AkYp19Ka/s1600-h/P1030759.JPG"><br /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6NWMz98J8uB5exFzS8wVSW073YXRUalUuRVeVGJe8ngedNUcsMJBUOOHlN1GBIvkKrpuzqfufSyettDjGhB8YoeK1h3EXO_DsCmP_tkEcC7-U7KWYVcOfpR21Y0IU9IcOA-B/s1600-h/P1030754.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6NWMz98J8uB5exFzS8wVSW073YXRUalUuRVeVGJe8ngedNUcsMJBUOOHlN1GBIvkKrpuzqfufSyettDjGhB8YoeK1h3EXO_DsCmP_tkEcC7-U7KWYVcOfpR21Y0IU9IcOA-B/s400/P1030754.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385468251263448770" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhekwn0WhmW73AHfSNsvDtgiWTpJUsjRaYdULXLlNMCQgzfG-a7HzxZ2YwzNURw22mV4eaQFxAfX5Ujxqdi8kLU5-cEYG7SHdHvDIru_wR9HnjgBnb0q965V-N1D9Ug2BRr9cuy/s400/P1030759.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385469337528104978" /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ-3BwF31O1AQHRQddkoRycECPftAzag0bFIsDPSUdssJ_wzlJo32oYO3FzVHVd-YgcXGlzEdvopRTUMNtFuuNUHQdqgcnJlxsqvkbKQHv-W1z7QqDwBIdgnEJXnk8Es8SYJbk/s1600-h/P1030742.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ-3BwF31O1AQHRQddkoRycECPftAzag0bFIsDPSUdssJ_wzlJo32oYO3FzVHVd-YgcXGlzEdvopRTUMNtFuuNUHQdqgcnJlxsqvkbKQHv-W1z7QqDwBIdgnEJXnk8Es8SYJbk/s400/P1030742.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385468239327350802" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><div style="text-align: center;">Dean Saunders, ex-Liverpool player, Chester City fan<br /></div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>The next day, we visited the Liverpool megastore in the local shopping mall. Fans from Hungary were pouring in to watch their team play Liverpool that evening. They visited the store too. Many mocked at the shop by posing outside with their team's gear. So did I. Harmless rivalry is fun, eh?</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlOJGah1elmCy__JD_FoRsSWVjiA1O0nvkzC6YTIecaHc94ZfAMsX4rT27GtXvN9Vcb35dISXaVoIJt3jE7oxU0vngLWEs9ac-jM9RWmFjRvE0JvEHmmZe0kB4rcJM8LYGiG0h/s1600-h/P1030886.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlOJGah1elmCy__JD_FoRsSWVjiA1O0nvkzC6YTIecaHc94ZfAMsX4rT27GtXvN9Vcb35dISXaVoIJt3jE7oxU0vngLWEs9ac-jM9RWmFjRvE0JvEHmmZe0kB4rcJM8LYGiG0h/s400/P1030886.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385472342639401442" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEzVUVXRwYq642RSJC_f-0izF2DEyfSfS5Q62_0r08nSNi_scs9dApjRhvQiMTBEBweNqVRVIFGAP3jsRgWRWPS-JYDiiPeN1b8cT3p7D3BZBhg3hZ7FDsz_9gOGxr38dZCDN_/s1600-h/P1030885.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEzVUVXRwYq642RSJC_f-0izF2DEyfSfS5Q62_0r08nSNi_scs9dApjRhvQiMTBEBweNqVRVIFGAP3jsRgWRWPS-JYDiiPeN1b8cT3p7D3BZBhg3hZ7FDsz_9gOGxr38dZCDN_/s400/P1030885.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385472333296220178" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxnFUsMHKnw0nPhwIla1iokC605lkUhkD8vqlEEdAJWO-5zrZAvjwzYAOnE9WVdUOALCgbg7q_UK0PKBK1EjDBGfZ6U1mOL4TMpmt0nLn8g22ls600zkkR7IeHAAm1JFxZCm1N/s1600-h/P1030721.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxnFUsMHKnw0nPhwIla1iokC605lkUhkD8vqlEEdAJWO-5zrZAvjwzYAOnE9WVdUOALCgbg7q_UK0PKBK1EjDBGfZ6U1mOL4TMpmt0nLn8g22ls600zkkR7IeHAAm1JFxZCm1N/s400/P1030721.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385472324489451010" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div>After paying for a mountain of merchandise, it was time to proceed to Anfield.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh92zeTYj40xFsK4cBkg3tRDGnPdJzJxweoZs8i4qJCfxmOj6j4G2XkUX_KrtzKg09SO4dHsOc3ocLQJOXNgexAbwPH0iarqsX59WORNI-u2pZEQ-ZPoWZ2rzLLl4DsuccLDv_b/s1600-h/P1030723.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh92zeTYj40xFsK4cBkg3tRDGnPdJzJxweoZs8i4qJCfxmOj6j4G2XkUX_KrtzKg09SO4dHsOc3ocLQJOXNgexAbwPH0iarqsX59WORNI-u2pZEQ-ZPoWZ2rzLLl4DsuccLDv_b/s400/P1030723.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385474168378439906" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 400px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-uvT5E9POjDGV8VaPaVQnJ2oWYZtbCsyFHmKWKmHWErHpmiC7ZXMfk-2doGrSJPrcODBExB-eD4EOTgwZHatmJNngOY1L8HwgFNPjAH0rRJIZ6FaGSKMpqZCu6ANj-YUsfyHh/s1600-h/P1030909.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-uvT5E9POjDGV8VaPaVQnJ2oWYZtbCsyFHmKWKmHWErHpmiC7ZXMfk-2doGrSJPrcODBExB-eD4EOTgwZHatmJNngOY1L8HwgFNPjAH0rRJIZ6FaGSKMpqZCu6ANj-YUsfyHh/s400/P1030909.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385474180225751586" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR-JSUs4m4J6MRGBPDzDknAryvnINxrGBjPCuOF1IPcGWBiWrVDsVt1h8xvx5khFnHzIbsqGiZah7xzrqqqnsktFe0Rp4HMObbrIRCPAfcAztYxqv5COccM6HcdoUpS-j4hFf8/s1600-h/P1030911.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR-JSUs4m4J6MRGBPDzDknAryvnINxrGBjPCuOF1IPcGWBiWrVDsVt1h8xvx5khFnHzIbsqGiZah7xzrqqqnsktFe0Rp4HMObbrIRCPAfcAztYxqv5COccM6HcdoUpS-j4hFf8/s400/P1030911.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385474192627247426" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ0i7-fLHetxNK1dBiyFrQ8OyIZMsFMlR_1-9jGfw1_f0Irv8mRSELzvUQDtGMMy5kgbrwe1ZiDptknckugveE73baIiRVKdt5oh73waFSjHw4NY_c2o372RJI2xsSHjQGAsY0/s1600-h/P1030920.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ0i7-fLHetxNK1dBiyFrQ8OyIZMsFMlR_1-9jGfw1_f0Irv8mRSELzvUQDtGMMy5kgbrwe1ZiDptknckugveE73baIiRVKdt5oh73waFSjHw4NY_c2o372RJI2xsSHjQGAsY0/s400/P1030920.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385476332644406514" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC07aofRnrZnVZZM-1UYAMipg_N-MrZb4XCnJkyc3TSYlkhZUM940l3yQfO-wQmkETENbFeFVSp70KoKLVqNDQPxTCqAnXavpmF0DiGmYQAaAnifh7Patr6_mc3D12TNV1iCHa/s1600-h/P1030946.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC07aofRnrZnVZZM-1UYAMipg_N-MrZb4XCnJkyc3TSYlkhZUM940l3yQfO-wQmkETENbFeFVSp70KoKLVqNDQPxTCqAnXavpmF0DiGmYQAaAnifh7Patr6_mc3D12TNV1iCHa/s400/P1030946.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385476337958084386" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1RKP_oEter1tfgVXaiCe6p0k9-zy_Ywnl1yr0SmMZpgDjXW7H_SJHpAWO4_U3lQMWUjCAyErhi0XxEimPjzcnmb7LZP4t-u3NFAUep62W3sdHhD8AsmLCFzsqn2HCawjv6grQ/s1600-h/P1030958.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1RKP_oEter1tfgVXaiCe6p0k9-zy_Ywnl1yr0SmMZpgDjXW7H_SJHpAWO4_U3lQMWUjCAyErhi0XxEimPjzcnmb7LZP4t-u3NFAUep62W3sdHhD8AsmLCFzsqn2HCawjv6grQ/s400/P1030958.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385476346092663794" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div>And so, Liverpool scraped away with a 1-0 win. Not the most impressive performance but the stadium atmosphere was still overwhelming for a first timer.</div><div><br /></div><div>Since there was no chance to have a good look at the stadium that evening, we made a trip back the next morning. Torres was supposed to do a book signing that afternoon. But we couldn't stay cos... <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I was going to Old Trafford</span> in Manchester - just a half hour drive away!</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi25ms263F3wT7-fQ3d3bs-wmRKgAvcqvGC4cbTZitbHNr5KHmtVM1ORaUBPPTAsuLftfBIXXzUM7Top8hq76u_7HR0BE9ICwfYsK1lA7y-DhGL2TsGW-5_olpAVjEyED2DgTws/s1600-h/P1040009.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi25ms263F3wT7-fQ3d3bs-wmRKgAvcqvGC4cbTZitbHNr5KHmtVM1ORaUBPPTAsuLftfBIXXzUM7Top8hq76u_7HR0BE9ICwfYsK1lA7y-DhGL2TsGW-5_olpAVjEyED2DgTws/s400/P1040009.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385478625785433106" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgntkYOklZIoW5mXBdqrF16JM6ibSLzQ9yozENWikDdgvUuvUn9TjUeFF5dkmbCFESJt3XuwduVmH8OR2Hh3pruoHZ6UIO4mpgpg5QxChnLVhqJ7-v6a3kmT-UmZwD6pQt6sFav/s1600-h/P1040012.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgntkYOklZIoW5mXBdqrF16JM6ibSLzQ9yozENWikDdgvUuvUn9TjUeFF5dkmbCFESJt3XuwduVmH8OR2Hh3pruoHZ6UIO4mpgpg5QxChnLVhqJ7-v6a3kmT-UmZwD6pQt6sFav/s400/P1040012.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385478631997184914" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCyaP4kSM4eBlMtF-WAwiZnjplclA2P9D6pKI69ux5i98YATQMDDd6WWMv0GAtWp4qlIOWKh_EUQX7PYGR0lfyMXHHOuitwpGGH0nEDzrzNuByOm9zBErz_XfPYyceqI4kLqqV/s1600-h/P1040016.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCyaP4kSM4eBlMtF-WAwiZnjplclA2P9D6pKI69ux5i98YATQMDDd6WWMv0GAtWp4qlIOWKh_EUQX7PYGR0lfyMXHHOuitwpGGH0nEDzrzNuByOm9zBErz_XfPYyceqI4kLqqV/s400/P1040016.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385478642388742098" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>There was no game going on, of course. But I was elated to just step on the soil and visit the merchandise store. Unfortunately, we wasted some time finding the way, I only had 30 minutes to shop. I dashed around grabbing stuff into my arms until it was time. The guard genially shepherded me to the cashier, calling me "my love".<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5wBvX6eJV1O_jznBxKACBDFS6BWccrwsBRm7CWH3l6zr-hVC_pk9vDnADObZn1Ea7VenBNX5uT6GVlGJTWgAUDhibAZOsL0uXKT4v2X6OuaIlCUIDFYj9xPQFxtKMltco8XGK/s1600-h/P1040052.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5wBvX6eJV1O_jznBxKACBDFS6BWccrwsBRm7CWH3l6zr-hVC_pk9vDnADObZn1Ea7VenBNX5uT6GVlGJTWgAUDhibAZOsL0uXKT4v2X6OuaIlCUIDFYj9xPQFxtKMltco8XGK/s400/P1040052.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385481019961027106" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmlxleWvj4G_GDYqEOOjKPNqn2vfxJdggL2j9uIZ0ushv7Q3IuDT0hlfWns_h_ZGlArlFr0wjOEsHUHQGKyAnG9U-f1G_gfB4DAntf2Yso2-k90FUw7Zn2xr-eUSk9b2rYejMS/s1600-h/P1040054.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmlxleWvj4G_GDYqEOOjKPNqn2vfxJdggL2j9uIZ0ushv7Q3IuDT0hlfWns_h_ZGlArlFr0wjOEsHUHQGKyAnG9U-f1G_gfB4DAntf2Yso2-k90FUw7Zn2xr-eUSk9b2rYejMS/s400/P1040054.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385481029714697842" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5hz6xthLPUvLzF-_89xsv8gUh_eOUWDPlzBVu7RDbcVnsn8uTrX46TZDXtlMmnqfUVeKx_iEbxDjbwlaYfL_-iODxcRjyJN3dBZAVq7wlbQZo_eLZzdYupfIFX_fF2mKz9dfb/s1600-h/P1040062.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5hz6xthLPUvLzF-_89xsv8gUh_eOUWDPlzBVu7RDbcVnsn8uTrX46TZDXtlMmnqfUVeKx_iEbxDjbwlaYfL_-iODxcRjyJN3dBZAVq7wlbQZo_eLZzdYupfIFX_fF2mKz9dfb/s400/P1040062.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385481038182095298" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1SyQi-6UZjV6Kxw3mTY6rplk5147n4x4cRvCTlTYwfoJt8IF41MemqLM405Q2KQZlN16k6BDXVjYcunM2wpKjqwz5giyOOp8ezDd6sRcPL5ZOlf58u1IrEQGj6i7d1AUW14fg/s1600-h/P1040065.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1SyQi-6UZjV6Kxw3mTY6rplk5147n4x4cRvCTlTYwfoJt8IF41MemqLM405Q2KQZlN16k6BDXVjYcunM2wpKjqwz5giyOOp8ezDd6sRcPL5ZOlf58u1IrEQGj6i7d1AUW14fg/s400/P1040065.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385481922122192818" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFAbvzsQh3p_oZRDfIkmafGtkv2NO_XvG2-g3Q0DSVD5BbAMY78Sy-xXdBEWknwtktgVTEH5vsprFEfROmo8IkMvbbhqzpOr2jprSf8I52DOUUhPh6aZg26ni6yEwRqn5zyULc/s1600-h/P1040075.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"> <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFAbvzsQh3p_oZRDfIkmafGtkv2NO_XvG2-g3Q0DSVD5BbAMY78Sy-xXdBEWknwtktgVTEH5vsprFEfROmo8IkMvbbhqzpOr2jprSf8I52DOUUhPh6aZg26ni6yEwRqn5zyULc/s400/P1040075.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385483122824722562" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a><object width="560" height="340"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ukXf8VpsufQ&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ukXf8VpsufQ&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object><br /><div><br />Whee!</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4YjWNJBtXWJZ31SQsFxGAuLd5HT8OUSE38Q4eMBq11DGPinPyExz9yrpYv2bf9dY-AN3ZJ3NpY26fMWF8MydVcu5UiHZym50BXrKTkpamVxf-rPKJMUxjaVVqKdDT7bCKJn92/s1600-h/P1040068.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4YjWNJBtXWJZ31SQsFxGAuLd5HT8OUSE38Q4eMBq11DGPinPyExz9yrpYv2bf9dY-AN3ZJ3NpY26fMWF8MydVcu5UiHZym50BXrKTkpamVxf-rPKJMUxjaVVqKdDT7bCKJn92/s400/P1040068.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385483114286119586" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div>We were scheduled to leave the next day. Our host gave a tip - wait at the gates of the Liverpool's Melwood training ground before 9am, the football stars reporting for training might just stop and sign autographs. They were more accommodating to overseas fans.</div><div><br /></div><div>And we did just that, in the cold morning wind. Looking like idiots.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwXzRMNiYrwkWFsMTYwMFi0_zQvuG6R1Yh44-yfwR3y9St7HoG6ZZAn9-xiktWfgIK6_xr5JQo6WVkzgVDxpodXc9DcMQCMgF6Q3mOBwVYJ8wKo8VSaYQwOWQ-9iclzfzsundq/s1600-h/P1040102.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwXzRMNiYrwkWFsMTYwMFi0_zQvuG6R1Yh44-yfwR3y9St7HoG6ZZAn9-xiktWfgIK6_xr5JQo6WVkzgVDxpodXc9DcMQCMgF6Q3mOBwVYJ8wKo8VSaYQwOWQ-9iclzfzsundq/s400/P1040102.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385487112738611378" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHxNp4BAW47CxJnfq1oSMZO9gSo8dQBlGYIUeLMrL3jqo7V0uFf8-d-t4wLfs93ve144YpsDjkCxfqlRcgUhF9v5bjcym02vd_rtbr9sgO8NRmpbZNt1vOGjVQ1qfKDK1hmJvh/s1600-h/P1040107.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHxNp4BAW47CxJnfq1oSMZO9gSo8dQBlGYIUeLMrL3jqo7V0uFf8-d-t4wLfs93ve144YpsDjkCxfqlRcgUhF9v5bjcym02vd_rtbr9sgO8NRmpbZNt1vOGjVQ1qfKDK1hmJvh/s400/P1040107.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385487122299590962" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPOlAHrAoMKwvOYQr0n7Laqx4qek6IEtMQ60h9nPHjgVXnuPPutxwdS1aVdbqdSwqWsIVrzqKzre5Ef3EYpv09NXcgHH4eKSu7F_6iDEL2qXzwds2yDsjRFc1k-qEQ7fxyhv8q/s1600-h/P1040115.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPOlAHrAoMKwvOYQr0n7Laqx4qek6IEtMQ60h9nPHjgVXnuPPutxwdS1aVdbqdSwqWsIVrzqKzre5Ef3EYpv09NXcgHH4eKSu7F_6iDEL2qXzwds2yDsjRFc1k-qEQ7fxyhv8q/s400/P1040115.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385487134563148930" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></a></div><div>After numerous flashy cars whizzed past, including Gerrard, Carragher and Benitez, we could only give up. And we proceeded to the train station for the next leg of the trip.</div><div><br /></div><div>The last picture was Steven Gerrard in his car, by the way.</div><div><br /></div><div>And that's the full account of the biggest highlight of the holiday :D</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-36985804420722403842009-09-26T00:40:00.001+08:002009-09-26T17:49:14.672+08:00Stephie's Shop Project<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidbz-1_zKJoEL4GH42qyrh4uO668b0jeeh5YMBncRepUs9uF1-CG6UsD-xN_Txs_-ORA70j3t0KquULyTM0nLfZLgLxQp8wgbApvgoiacMDXXU89xmLSXF_ccrzLUKZfdfZBI7/s1600-h/3937046201_be486c4573.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidbz-1_zKJoEL4GH42qyrh4uO668b0jeeh5YMBncRepUs9uF1-CG6UsD-xN_Txs_-ORA70j3t0KquULyTM0nLfZLgLxQp8wgbApvgoiacMDXXU89xmLSXF_ccrzLUKZfdfZBI7/s400/3937046201_be486c4573.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385710368718982146" /></a><div>As a favour to Wanqing, Baby and I did a series of photoshoot. You may see more at her blogshop. All the clothes displayed are for sale. You may access her <a href="http://www.stephiesays.com/?page_id=94">blogshop</a> here.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-21671590418110203572009-09-25T02:38:00.003+08:002009-09-25T02:50:31.614+08:00Things I Did On A 12-Hour Flight<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO-OL9EbSF5Kl0qONJPt7Tbea_f3EQwU1x0uaiPCmVON7aRHybVMh8YKHfij9fF2cLSVRB47vYatIMP-bGSBu4ZHvxnEQsixjkNahf0iPFDmMbCT0vdnDckKWiAxOWNCBb9wFA/s1600-h/P1030663.JPG"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">SIN >> LHR (London)</span><div><ol><li>Watched The Proposal<br /></li><li>Watched Angels and Demons in Italian</li><li>Tried to read book that I brought along, failing to complete 5 pages at any one time<br /></li><li>Doodled in notebook</li><li>Read over neighbour's shoulder - Guide to London</li><li>Ate 2 in-flight meals + 3 sandwiches</li><li>Napped</li></ol><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">CDG (Paris) >> SIN</span></div><div><ol><li>Ate 2 in-flight meals + 1 bun</li><li>Completed The Lost Symbol</li></ol><div>I didn't realised it then (until I passed by a billboard - see photo below) but I grabbed The Lost Symbol on the day of release at a bargain! Only 12 pounds! It's selling at $48 here (pre-book price $36). One of the best finds of the trip :D</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO-OL9EbSF5Kl0qONJPt7Tbea_f3EQwU1x0uaiPCmVON7aRHybVMh8YKHfij9fF2cLSVRB47vYatIMP-bGSBu4ZHvxnEQsixjkNahf0iPFDmMbCT0vdnDckKWiAxOWNCBb9wFA/s400/P1030663.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385106280962446034" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px; " /></span></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-41448857018293916302009-09-02T00:06:00.003+08:002009-09-02T00:45:18.025+08:00The Case Of The Broken Vase<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">The Mystery</span></div>Yesterday morning I went to work and saw that my notebooks and papers were soaked; my desk was wet. Tracing the source of the water, I realised that my vase was broken into 2 pieces. It was still standing but a bottom corner was slightly "detached" from its body, explaining the leak. Before I noticed that my desk was wet, I actually thought that my flowers were very thirsty and drank up all the water over the weekend.<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">The Queries</span></div><div><ol><li>When did it happen? Friday night? Saturday? Sunday or Monday morning?</li><li>Who broke my vase and pretended to put it back? He/She did not even bother to dry my desk!<br /></li><li>There was no reason for anyone to approach my desk unless he/she intended to wreck havoc. The flowers and the vase were from my boo. Who then, bore such hatred for me?<br /></li><li>Why did the vase break at the bottom? If it was dropped or knocked into, wouldn't the top part chip instead? Unless it was dropped vertically on its base.</li></ol></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">The Witness</span></div><div>The cleaning auntie was the only one who would touch my desk, to pack my papers and wipe the table. She said that on Saturday, the vase was still intact. But she did not see the coward who not only broke it, he did not dare to admit (or clean up after him).</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">The Theories</span></div><div><ol><li>The cleaning auntie broke it but didn't dare to admit.</li><li>Someone was fooling around with a netball (inter-department Captain's Ball competition was coming up) and accidentally knocked the vase with the ball. And kept quiet about it.</li><li>I had a secret admirer who went berserk when he saw the flowers from my boo. Fondness became hatred which turned into violence. He then fled the scene.</li></ol></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">The Conclusion</span></div><div>Each of the above was as unlikely as the next mainly because of the evidence left behind. My vase was not some expensive antique and I am an amicable person. There was no reason for the culprit to be afraid to own up or at least clean up the water.</div><div><br /></div><div>And then, I had a stroke of brilliance.</div><div><br /></div><div>Did you notice that the weather was very erratic over the weekend? It was super hot, then super chilly during the rainstorm. The vase must have been subjected to the sudden change in temperature. And it broke.</div><div><br /></div><div>This would explained why the 2 pieces were so neatly placed together, and why my papers were left to soak in the water. If it was an accident, a normal person would be frantic about saving the documents, wouldn't he?</div><div><br /></div><div>The vase was pretty thick. It could be that the outside surface contracted but the inside couldn't adjust in time, resulting in cracking and eventually breaking.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh man, what a genius! Call me Detective Chow!</div><div><br /></div><div>But all of the above were just deduction. The only thing that was certain - the vase has become useless. And I cut my finger on the broken glass.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">The End</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17078778.post-91482566944505048082009-08-28T00:14:00.005+08:002009-08-28T00:48:06.594+08:00明星。爱情。梦。<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i1.sinaimg.cn/ent/s/p/2009-08-26/U3349P28T3D2669138F346DT20090826001704.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 550px; height: 365px;" src="http://i1.sinaimg.cn/ent/s/p/2009-08-26/U3349P28T3D2669138F346DT20090826001704.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><div><br /></div><div>I'm delighted by this <a href="http://www.xin.sg/article.php?article=32016&st=dtl">news</a>. It's like reading a happy ending to a love story (though it hardly is the ending, of course).<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe it was my lifelong dream to fall in love with a celebrity, to the envy of all his fans. In my dream, I'm the girl next door - the plainest girl he choose to fall for.</div><div><br /></div><div>In my dream, the celebrity often changed faces - For a while in 1998, it was pre-balding, still hot Prince William. Sometimes it was Nicholas Tse or Chilam. Most of the time, it is Nick Carter... <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Ahem</span>, the list gets too embarrassing to go on.</div><div><br /></div><div>In my dream, he serenades me in front of 10,000 screaming fans. I think once he even proposed to me onstage during a soldout concert.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I think I feel a strange affinity to Mrs Lau (above pic). 爱情万岁!</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">OK stop sniggering!</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3