<?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-6819780661942236823</id><updated>2012-02-17T07:10:03.563+08:00</updated><category term='Quizes:D'/><category term='Birthday:D'/><title type='text'>Hero/Heroine:D</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>tessa</name><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>110</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6819780661942236823.post-1646688220847967307</id><published>2008-04-19T23:58:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-20T18:18:49.066+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>UPDATE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Visit&lt;a href="http://minutesaway.livejournal.com"&gt; minutesaway&lt;/a&gt; for a while, I doubt I'd be using blogger, only when I feel like I want to update two blogs. So for now (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anonymous comments are accepted there so you can still tag. Do come here occasionally though (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;/UPDATE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm addicted to livejournal. Well, influenced by Jo, and I think she got annoyed so she blocked me. Whoopsee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, all I said was I couldn't add the tile, and then voila, suddenly I could. So, I'm not annoying right? Oh boy, here comes self doubt. Maybe she's in a bad mood, like she always is, or because I didn't want to do some meetup for her :X&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahwells.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really tired, it's 00 04. But I can't sleep, I need to make use of my time on the computer because tomorrow, I'm going to be made studying again. Honestly, my mum doesn't make it very painless to sit down and focus. The more she screams and makes it seem as if we're making her sit down and watch us makes me want to rebel and not do my work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See? If you'd leave me alone, I'd do it. If you restrict me, I might be a pain. So, it's your fault, not mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel very blah. I feel so low that I might break down. It's always times like these that make me feel so lousy. Someone save me ):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sandrea nice, she's making me feel light and happy. The world needs more people like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I wanted to make my livejournal quiet but if you wish to hear me ramble instead of talk rubbish it's http://minutesaway.livejournal.com.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will update later in the day, if and when I get my laptop. /:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-1646688220847967307?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/1646688220847967307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=1646688220847967307' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/1646688220847967307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/1646688220847967307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-think-im-addicted-to-livejournal.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-7095116095076357210</id><published>2008-04-19T13:30:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-19T13:47:14.004+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's not an addiction, I don't really know what it is. I guess my laptop is just my best friend. The fact that it brings me joy to touch the keyboards and type out my anxiety, unpublished or not, makes me happy. And it's no human so it can't judge me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the kind of feeling you feel, like you can't trust anybody because you don't know if one day that person would just turn around and stab you in the back. So you become self conscious and worry what the person think about you, say about you. You worry about your appearance and how you appeal to the person you're befriending.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's no really 'true colours' because as a human you know when to show what kind of person you are to different people. There are times you get to show different personalities, you can't show them all at once. What 'true colours' really mean when the person starts acting like a total bitch. In that circumstance, there might be something wrong with you to make this person act that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're always visualised in a negative way. Either too clingy, too talkative, too bossy, too stubborn, too proud, too arrogant, too vulgar, too annoying etc. Humans judge people too fast and they never once think that they themselves might be as annoying, talkative, bossy, stubborn as the other party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then again, we're only human. It's hard not to judge by the outward appearance or the way someone acts; we always have something to say. Hardly are there times where we sit in front of the mirror and reflect on our own behaviours, which is what we should really do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a difference between being modest or really realising your faults. You could always tell a person, "Yes, I think I'm actually quite a proud person," but inside you think otherwise and secretly agree with the other party that indeed she is very proud (although you told her, "No, I don't think so.")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that's what we lack, we lack to be truthful to other people. We cross the line of being sweet and polite to be lying. I know a person like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there are people who try to act like they're a complete angel and say that you just don't see the good in other people. Yes, they have a right to believe that in every person there must be some good in them but when you tell someone that actually, this person is quite nice but you detest the person too, then what are you really trying to show?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hypocrite you become.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are also people who are too self indulged and even when a person is genuinly trying to trust you and sharing their problem, you always cut in and share your own making the conversation revolve around you in the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh. I think right now how I'm living, plus the mini war going on, all of us need a reality check. I need one and so do you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to get out of this place and rewind. Meet new friends and stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends don't seem like my friends anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-7095116095076357210?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/7095116095076357210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=7095116095076357210' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7095116095076357210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7095116095076357210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/04/its-not-addiction-i-dont-really-know.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-567048385271050438</id><published>2008-04-18T21:43:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T22:58:25.015+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay, my short update was due to me wanting to write something but not knowing what to write so here's your post(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But firstly, I wanted to ignore this loser but since everyone is involved in this conflict, I shall reply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tag Replies (:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anonymous -&lt;br /&gt;Of course you're a much better Anonymous(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jo -&lt;br /&gt;This person really doesn't have a life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Donkey Godmother -&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, it's a wonder why these people exist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lame Hater:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohkay, so you want praise?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, loser, you're lame! I think in this context, it is a praise for you, considering how stupid you are(: What do you want me to do? You come to my blog, be a coward, tag some nonsense that does not make sense and jump into conclusions before tagging, what is your problem?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, I can't praise you, you clearly have no good points.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And er, who the hell said Sharon's my best friend? My dear, she isn't. Copying you: If you can guess who my best friend is, I'll give you a kiss! NOT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See your lameness? That's how you sound like. I hope you feel ashamed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and if you're Stephanie Chee, get lost. Seriously! You and your lesbian best friend can go hold hands and cuddle for the whole day, so much free time come to my blog for what. Crazy. Some more don't know who's my best friend any how say.  Yes I do note the&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; '&lt;/span&gt;best friend&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;'&lt;/span&gt;. What's that supposed to mean then? Goodness. Don't any how whack lah. I know people like me better than you, don't need to be jealous right? Stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're not wanted here, go away.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to less unimportant matters, I'm feeling rather... down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, no surprise there. I know, I know, I've been a little cranky and clingly lately but it's just the mood, it can't be helped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been feeling (still) sick despite seeing two doctors, I've grown fatter, I feel like there's no hope of living and I really want to escape to some foreign place and start all over again. Like new friends and people. At least then I can be discreet and different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I feel as if the bunch of people whom I regard as friends are the people I don't deserve to have as friends. I feel as if they should just fight with me and then I'd be a loner. Maybe then I'll just be so depressed, I'd slash and die? Is that what loners and emo people do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know. Just a thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though the migrating idea seems more idealistic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I shall go burry myself in sorrow. If you ever want to help me get out, I'd be happy (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for the screwed skin and all. I fixed it now. I shall go to bed soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-567048385271050438?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/567048385271050438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=567048385271050438' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/567048385271050438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/567048385271050438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/04/okay-my-short-update-was-due-to-me.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-5380917080732992430</id><published>2008-04-17T14:38:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:00:45.732+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>UPDATE:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190164351848872098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/SAcq-rXY-KI/AAAAAAAAAO4/s4G9e7ePQQg/s400/lamer.jpg" border="0" /&gt;I am going to delete that soon because : I DON'T CARE. &lt;p&gt;First of all, excuse you? Er why? Why should I care about you in the first place? You're in 6.4, and is a coward and wants me to guess who you are... because you're a loser and your mum forgot to name you? Oh that's hilarious.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I don't care darling, I don't give a shit. When I went to your class to confront, your coward ass didn't own up. And anyway, I have doubts that you are from 6.4 because I know none of them are as childish as you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I'm dumb, I wonder what you are. Really, I do.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And who said I wanted a kiss from you? Your lips are probably fish-like and swollen red that no one would want to kiss you, even your mum or grandma or something. I don't know, you're so childish you probably still drink from a baby bottle, and wear diapers.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I don't want your kiss or to know who you are. In fact you're so disgusting I don't want to be associated with you so, goodbye Spammer. No one cares about you.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;/UPDATE&lt;/p&gt;Death is a scary thing, but what if it gets the better of us?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It isn't fair, to have a brother three years younger than you, and he gets everything his way, and you're left to always be the one getting the blame or getting scolded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You &lt;strong&gt;never&lt;/strong&gt; meet the expectations set for you&lt;br /&gt;You &lt;strong&gt;never &lt;/strong&gt;do anything right&lt;br /&gt;You &lt;strong&gt;never&lt;/strong&gt; become smart or good enough&lt;br /&gt;You&lt;strong&gt; never&lt;/strong&gt; become someone your parents are proud of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're always a &lt;em&gt;no one&lt;/em&gt;, a &lt;em&gt;nobody&lt;/em&gt;, a &lt;strong&gt;stranger&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While on the other hand, he gets everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The free will to do anything he wishes&lt;br /&gt;The free will of verbally demanding something and getting it straight away&lt;br /&gt;The free will of floating around the house not doing anything&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What he wants is what he gets. When he wants to get his work done, he'll get it done. When it needs to be done and he doesn't do it, he doesn't get scolding unlike me, he gets away with it by crying and whining. And then my parents will do the work for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He doesn't get to watch TV, only during his meal time (and giving him the benefit of doubt, half an hour later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's 14 43, it's pass his TV time, and yet what is he doing? Sitting there watching &lt;em&gt;Jimmy Nutron&lt;/em&gt; (?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I make my mistakes, I break the rules. I take the computer, the laptop out of the hidden areas that my dumb parents put in their rooms, when caught, I'll get a punishment, scolding and in rare occasions a possibly &lt;em&gt;canning&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm 12? Canning?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not fair. Albeit me not studying very hard, I still make the grade, I still maintain my work. I do whatever I can to improve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was his age, all I remember is getting scolded whenever my work isn't completed at the desinated time. He? He doesn't have a deadline, he sets his own deadline.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parent's excuse is either "He does his work, you just don't see." or "He's only 9."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not comparing by a 12 year old expectation to a 9 year old expectation, I'm comparing my life at his age vs his life now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so much more pressured. This will never change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He will always be the one laughing at me and I'll always be the one crying. It's never the other way around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wish he would just disappear into thin air, wishing I never wanted a sibling, a brother in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or, my other choice is to disappear for him, maybe that will satisfy him. Then he'll get all the attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cracking under pressure. I can't take it anymore. If everyday, I have to sit through a scolding of not studying 'just because I do naughty things on the computer' or 'just because I'm taking PSLE this year', followed by unnecessary crying then I'm through with even living.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who the hell goes through life when life is hell?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you don't see me tomorrow, you'd know what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suggest the first person you should call is my brother, he shall be the cause of my death. Followed by my dear old mother.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a lighter note, Meagan is funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had moral ed today and Mrs. Heng made us to Angel and Mortal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite funny (: Mrs Chong made us do that last year but it failed, which was really retarded. But this one is quite successful, despite the fact that all of us know who our angels are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thing is, I don't know. I'm really afraid it's LI YING ):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though my mortal is MEAGAN and, well, she found out from Fiona. Rawr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She funny (: Today during Maths we got called out (surprise, surprise) and then she was talking to me and I couldn't stop laughing. Or at least, tried not the laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other funny girl is Claudia (The Ang-Mo-Lang who speaks funny Hua Wen). She lent me $10 to go buy a new book from the bookshop so that I have a worksheet for Ms Soh. She was like "I have money! I can give you, but I don't know how much. Oh, I see $10! Here you go. :D"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently in order to photocopy a worksheet (blank, with no answers or worked solutions what so ever) you have to buy the whole book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But KYM! saved the day by having an extra book and so I didn't need to buy a new one (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my mood wasn't really ruined, until just now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yeah, I guess it was partially fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm starting to love 6.3 quite a million :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh but we saw some "I HATE 6.3 by 6.4" big on the class board. I wonder who wrote it. Then Lao Shi told us, translated in English "You think I'm stupid to scold 6.4 (See? Everyone thinks that they're so brilliant *pukes*)?! I know you all write it!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RUBBISH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're not so childish lor, please. It is in fact that I do proclaim that I really despise their class, and so does the rest of my classmates but why the hell would we do that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We take their attitudes and insults like humans, not barbarians, who write stupid retarded I HATE YOU notes on the board. It's too much of a coincidence, since the hater tagged on my blog.&lt;br /&gt;And anyway, I swear to God I came into class and Sharon said "LOOK AT THE BOARD!" I did not write it. And If you know me well enough, you'd know that I would never do such a thing. I might have changed but my mental maturity is still there, even if you don't notice it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Admit it, who ever you are. We don't care, we just want to know who the coward is for sabotaging your whole class. You don't like us then say lah! Goodness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all think it's Sarah Ann Lee or Kimberly Foo though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) The handwriting on the board really looked like Sarah's. I've been in her class for 2 years to know how her handwriting sucks, even she knows it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Both of them think our class is stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Kimberly hates our class. And thinks lowly of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahwells. I hate whoever that wrote it, because 6.3 is a bomb of a class darlings, even you want to be in it (: We've got awesome people and they all have a great sense of humour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even so, if 6.4 wants to fight with us, we win hands down (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've got the most rowdy people, the most vulgar people and the people who are toned and muscular. Unlike their bony thin unhealthy brainy (or not so, in fact) selves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why they want to pick a fight? Who knows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note: I still like some of the girls in 6.4 because I think they are innocent and would not do such a stupid thing. Plus they have friends in our class. People like Ang and clique, Nicola and Alex, some of Andrea Wong and clique, Niki and Faith, Lilian and clique, Barney (&gt;&lt;) and clique. These people won't do such stuff one lah, I'm sure. No matter how much they've changed. Why Nicola and Alex? YY is in our class! So that concludes my dwelling post. See you in heaven (: (Refer to ^)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-5380917080732992430?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/5380917080732992430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=5380917080732992430' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5380917080732992430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5380917080732992430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/04/death-is-scary-thing-but-what-if-it.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/SAcq-rXY-KI/AAAAAAAAAO4/s4G9e7ePQQg/s72-c/lamer.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6819780661942236823.post-803461426588761452</id><published>2008-04-16T18:38:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T22:12:05.850+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>UPDATE:&lt;br /&gt;My hater admits to be Sharon? But yet still tagging with her/his/its lame title?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really believe, unless Sharon, you've turn lamer while fighting with the people who called you a ripper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if it makes you happy, er, I'm an individual now. I changed my skin, like that makes a difference.&lt;br /&gt;/UPDATE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, lets settle this. I'd like to reply this (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my darling hater:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Did I ever say I was not weird? Nah, I agree very much with you. I am in fact a big weirdo! But hello, you are one too! Who has so much free time to tag on a haters blog? If you hated me in the first place, then why are you here? Obviously, you love me too much, don't deny it (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Er, one question: I don't even know you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know you because you're a coward! I'm quite sure your mummy gave you a name right? So why don't you use it? There are so many people who hate me, why do you want to be so ordinary? Stand out! Put your big name there! I won't hate you, at least you told me in my face instead of gossiping behind my back. Thank you! But please, your name is very precious. Anonymous (Apart from my dearest Anonymous, the one and only) comments will be deleted. I'm sick and tired of losers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) If I don't know you, how do I know what your blog looks like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I copy you when we live different lives, share a different name, CCA, hopefully class and everything else! The contents of my blog is my own brain and thinking and writing, how can I copy you? What logic are you talking about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skin wise? Er, there's such thing called the credits dear, please go see who made this skin. I didn't steal your skin, I took it from something called blogskins.com because noobies like my don't know how to skin. So, use your brains dear. I'm sure God gave you one. I can't copy you. Think before you say okay? Don't make a fool out of yourself next time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who has so much time to do this? Sheesh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, this is to someone who doesn't (hopefully) hate me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my Anonymous, the one and only. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yay, you're back. Such a joy to hear your sarcasm and read your spelling errors (: I'm sorry I shifted, blame Sharon, whom I presume you should know by now.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whether was nice today. Until it started to rain. Rain makes Tessa sad. ):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I'll describe my oh-so-boring day in point form, to avoid it's lengthiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I solemnly swear that Mrs Tham, our music teacher, really sucks. I mean like, she's reallyyyy sucky. ):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Ms Soh sucks! ): She held me back for the whole recess today causing my anorexia to get worse (Haha. As if.). Okay, I was starving and after that, I had no mood to concentrate. A hungry Tessa is a grumy one! I have yet to locate her worksheet. SIGH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Being the orderly of the day is fun(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love blowing the whistle! Heh. When I blew it outside of the canteen, someone said shut up to me ):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well screw you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and Clarissa's mummy is nice:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did vespers twice and Mrs Tay was like "Hello again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there goes your unlengthy post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just two more things:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I don't really want to watch American Idol. I'll be very xin tong ):&lt;br /&gt;2) Secondary girls can't throw insults:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be more creative can? You guys have been 'Primary School Kids' too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-803461426588761452?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/803461426588761452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=803461426588761452' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/803461426588761452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/803461426588761452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/04/okay-lets-settle-this.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-454527007675588413</id><published>2008-04-15T15:01:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T15:37:34.447+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm alone at home so I'm taking this very opportunity to sneak on the computer. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MY ARM HURTS ):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today was injection day, and of course, all of us were very scared. But honestly, it was not that bad, in fact it was nothing. I didn't cry, or tear or anything. I merely squeezed Meagan's hand for moral support (: Which was rather shocking, because Meagan doesn't look like the kind that would give moral support.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus she was freaking brave. And I found out her dad's a doctor. Surprise, surprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much for someone telling us exaggerated stories. AKA, 6.1 and 6.2 crying their hearts out. Apparently most of them cried. That makes our class brave because only one poor soul cried (: As far as I'm concerned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I squeezed the crying girls hand, or more of she the other way around. Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Oh yeah, and there goes ___ and ____ of 6.4 boasting their proud asses off again. Of course, all of us know your brilliance darlings. *Pukes*)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so like the normal procedure, did the eye test, took height and weight etc. That was chicken feet because all we were really doing was sitting around and talking. Best way to kill time (: And it was rather fun to sit around and talk, and miss Miss Soh's lesson, and ART (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it got to the 'In The Zone' part, where we sat in the Art Room and waited for our turns to go see the (Philipino doctor, whom I-Wen kept imitating XD. She's the funniness.).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Awkward, awkwardness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then of course was the jab time. I went to see the nurse so that she can 'interogate' me before I was fit to go take the jab and this was kinda the conversation I had with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;Me: Hello! *Tries to be extremely cheerful*&lt;br /&gt;Nurse: Oh hello. Take a seat please.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh alright.&lt;br /&gt;Nurse: What's your name? Teesa is it?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Tessa. It's TEH-SAH (Seriously, it is. Check out my awesome file XD)&lt;br /&gt;Nurse: OH! Tessa. Right. Okay. *Flips open health booklet to the immunisation section*&lt;br /&gt;Me: *Darts eyes around trying to avoid the people who are taking their jabs. Needles make me scared &gt;&lt;* Nurse: GOOD NEWS GIRL! You only need to have one jab! *Smile encouragingly* Me: Oh, yay! Nurse: You'll skip the MMR one, the first one. Me: Oh, the less painful one *shudders* Nurse: What makes you think so? Me: I don't know. Everyone says so.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She also said that I looked like a sports girl o_o. I told her that I was a uniform girl and she was like "NO! DON'T LIE! YOU DON'T LOOK VERY PETITE!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PETITE?!?! How are we petite. That's nonsense. SHE'S NONSENSE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, yeah. Then I took my jab lor. Sharon, Jo and Sofi were like "THINK OF CLOUDS! THINK OF HEROES! THINK OF GOSSIP GIRL! THINK OF THE NOTEBOOK AND SEXY CALHOUN! THINK OF SERENA AND DAN! THINK OF YOUR BROTHER GETTING RAN OVER BY A CAR"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heh. Obviously they know me well (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was like "I NEED SOMEONE TO SQUEEEEZEE! ARRRGH!" Then Meagan came to my rescue ^^. Yay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was no pain (: But now it hurts big time and it's my left hand we're talking about. So I can't write and I can basically do nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's as if my arm is paralysed or something. It's slightly better but I still can't write properlly, nor lift. Lift especially. ):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AHWELLS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realised I shouldn't have changed my URL because Anonymous can't track me ): Sniff sniff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="350" align="center" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="middle"  style="color:#eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14;"&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Your Thinking is Abstract and Random&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img height="100" src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatkindofthinkerareyouquiz/abstractrandom.png" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are flexible, adaptable, and creative.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's many ways that you can learn - and you're up for any of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You relate well to other people, and you do well working in groups.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can help people communicate together and work with each other's strengths.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't work well with people who are competitive or adversarial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You prefer to work toward a common goal... not toward conflicting goals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofthinkerareyouquiz/"&gt;What Kind of Thinker Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P/S: I should just stick a "I TOOK A JAB TODAY, MY LEFT ARM HURTS" sticker on my forehead. Sheesh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my sleeve isn't rolled up, no one seems to care. But when it is, people take notice. Doye, but like, my sleeve likes to roll down /:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I have to be defensive cause Sharon smacked me. And it hurt. And so I think everyone will do the same.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus I slammed myself into the fridge door. Sigh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Leave me alone to bleed.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-454527007675588413?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/454527007675588413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=454527007675588413' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/454527007675588413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/454527007675588413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/04/im-alone-at-home-so-im-taking-this-very.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-2748153650281914949</id><published>2008-04-14T17:19:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-14T18:24:23.748+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>UPDATE:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Siyue&lt;/strong&gt;: Yes, we all know that my dearest senior is obviously very LAME. I know you can walk, I didn't mean it that way. Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I feel really useless, and a little bummed. ):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My exams are coming and yet I'm not doing anything about it, instead I'm sitting in my bed lazing around and being, well, useless. No knowlage is going in my brain, I'm not using my brain for anything useful. Other than correcting my english on my blog, which I hardly do anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one cares for goodness' sake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I'm starting to miss Nic jie, plus I haven't been talking to her much. When all else fails, your family is still always there for you. By that I don't mean my parents, cause they are hardly there. Which sucks. And since my friends aren't really doing a good job lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry dearies, but it's true. I feel like, a social outcast. Or probably worst than that. Let me doubt myself then. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are friends anyway? This world doesn't really have a perfect defination. After all, we're all only human, eventually we get sick and tired of one another and only to cover up for it we doubt it when the person points out the obvious. There is no friends forever. Or at least I don't believe so. It's like saying you'll live happily ever after.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe there's such thing as best friends either, because regardless, they're still human and they're as good as your normal friends. It's just that in a way they make an effort to be closer to you, but that'll pass too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not an optimist, I'm sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pebbles is my best friend, I could say that. But she gets pissed at me too, and I get pissed at her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Eeyore is my only best friend, since he can't speak to me, he can only provide me comfort, which is really what I need most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall go burrow myself in my self pity. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;/UPDATE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, thanks Siyue for the pressie (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might not be dying because apparently, my rash isn't what I thought it was! I have to say I'm a little disapointed that I got worried over nothing. Over an allergy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I'm lame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that's besides the point. The thing is, I still feel &lt;strong&gt;sick&lt;/strong&gt;. And I was only diagnosed with whatever was what caused my rashes so therefore I still don't really know what the hell is wrong with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, one thing's for sure is that I'm not having dengue. Thank God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I need proper medication. I can't keep having headaches and nausea all the time right? This is ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I'm not allowed to eat processed food. Which means nothing, not even milo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My live is pathetic. No cookies either ): Except homemade ones. Bleah. Goodbye Famous Amos. Goodbye my darling Milo and icecream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO WHAT EXACTLY CAN I EAT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is ridiculous. And they needed to take me for some allergy test too, which consists of drawing two test tubes of blood from me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel weak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And tomorrow's the jabb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel weaker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Faints*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And anyway, for the whole day today I felt weak. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully I'll get better soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P/S: It is proven that cockiness doesn't get you anywhere. For those boastful 6.4-rians, ha. That's to you for boasting, and then us winning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Booya.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-2748153650281914949?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/2748153650281914949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=2748153650281914949' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2748153650281914949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2748153650281914949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/04/this-is-sad.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-7299703917446826798</id><published>2008-04-13T13:52:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-13T14:13:39.628+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay, it's been a pretty upsetting weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, on Friday, dearest Sharon (who is worrying me, will go to that later) didn't come to school because she's sick. I'm sure it's true, and I certainly hope she didn't pon school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we had some Olympic thing which was really, horrid. But whatever, the 6.4 girls can continue to be them proud selves, I really can't be bothered. These are the people I used to be associated with, used to love dearly and suddenly they turn so proud and boastful. It's such a shame people like these, the people who used to be nice and friendly, turn so &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cocky&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, to you guys: 6.3 girls aren't stupid. It was foolish of me to look so lowly of these people. For your information, these people turn out to be one of the nicest people you can ever meet. At least even if their IQ isn't up there, their EQ definately&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; pwns yours&lt;/span&gt;. They care despite the fact that they aren't close to you. They aren't proud and they're ALWAYS cheerful people, making the atmosphere light and not competitive. Honestly, you need to learn one or two things from them you arrogant people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and for a bunch of arrogant people, you guys are sure &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;childish&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh. Of course I do take note that some of you guys aren't all that bad. So don't go around putting words in my mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, why would you come across this humble blog? Since you guys probably think it is shameful to be even taking note of what I say? After all I am a 6.3 girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever, go and wipe your asses with gold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Fumes*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My 'Aussie god' is out of American Idol!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nooooooooooooo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can MICHAEL JOHNS, the sexiest, voice and body, talented Aussie boy, be out and not that lousy bitch KRISTY LEE COOK?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is wrong with you America?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am utterly disapointed. If only I could be there to make a difference. If I could, I would have flown to American just to vote for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll miss having to look forward to his sexy voice every Wednesday. ):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn you Kristy and David Archuleta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, apart from that, I have found a love for the Samsung SGH-E870. It's a really old phone but I swear, it's beautiful! It used to be Mer's phone but she lost it so, yeah. They don't sell it anymore. It's such a shame):&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I went to see the doctors on Friday (much to Ina's happiness) and I was diagnosed with...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOTHING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor could not diagonose me with anything, although he did note that my rashes did not look like dengue rashes, nor measles. But he can't even diagnose me so I don't trust him. And he made us pay a consultation fee and wasted our time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid doctor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I caught a fever on Saturday, as well as a bad case of diarrhoea and a bad headache and tummy ache and a cold and basically, I was quite a sickly girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm supposed to see some skin specialist guy to diagnose me acording to the state of my (worsening) rashes but I don't have the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm dying. According to AM too. She wanted to dress me up in a purple dress and buy me a nice coffin. And inherit by purple bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahwells. I'm slightly better but I doubt I'm fully recovered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully I'll be alive for a much longer time. I still have a lot of things that make me feel so unsatisfied.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You don't need to lie, darling. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What's the point of pretending?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-7299703917446826798?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/7299703917446826798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=7299703917446826798' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7299703917446826798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7299703917446826798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/04/okay-its-been-pretty-upsetting-weekend.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-2131089759588952237</id><published>2008-04-11T20:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T20:21:31.110+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="center" bg style="color:#eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What Your Little Black Dress Says About You&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/thelittleblackdresstest/dress-2.png" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are lively and outgoing. You are naturally friendly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You enjoy meeting new people and making new connections.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your style is whimsical and unique. You're good at putting together interesting outfits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you were a shoe, you would be: High heeled boots&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/thelittleblackdresstest/"&gt;The Little Black Dress Test&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-2131089759588952237?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/2131089759588952237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=2131089759588952237' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2131089759588952237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2131089759588952237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/04/what-your-little-black-dress-says-about.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-5265583723479928275</id><published>2008-04-09T19:11:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T19:12:19.847+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today was horrendous. Horrible. All the worst things you can think of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel the need of giving up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahwell, even if I don't the aedes mosquitoes are there to aid me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got the symptoms, waiting for the fever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-5265583723479928275?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/5265583723479928275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=5265583723479928275' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5265583723479928275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5265583723479928275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/04/today-was-horrendous.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-8505507470168115377</id><published>2008-04-08T10:53:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T15:12:23.306+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;UPDATE:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TESSA COULDN'T WISH FOR A BETTER BIRTHDAY! It seems that I have underestimated my fellow... peers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off thank you&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;6.3&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;for all the birthday wishes! Even though after learning it from many the numerous people who exclaimed it loudly in class... and my obvious chunk of presents &gt;&lt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Ina and Sofi for wishing me on the dot! (Plus minus one minute or so [:) and Fiona, Sofi (again), Tianna, Jie and Nic jie (all the way in St. Gallens) for greeting me with wishes early in the morning. (: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you to all the people who gave me little notes and cards:D Because you knew I love cards:D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sofi&lt;/span&gt;, for the really adorable cup and two cards&lt;3 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ina&lt;/span&gt;, for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;EEYORE&lt;/span&gt; who is really freaking adorable and has already have an extended family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry Piglet, Eeyore pwns :X&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sharon&lt;/span&gt;, for the awesome card! Freaking hilarious :D I loved it lots(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Rachel C&lt;/span&gt; (donkey godmother:P) for the milo! Haha! Five more days:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sandrea&lt;/span&gt;, and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;sister&lt;/span&gt;, for the lovely presnts!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sandrea&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jo&lt;/span&gt; for the picture (though of random ACS(I) guy named Aaron who apparently is Jo's brother's friend T-T) and card (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Rachel L&lt;/span&gt; for the delicious banana puffs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Molly&lt;/span&gt; for the really pretty notebook and the pencil case and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Duckie&lt;/span&gt; (Rachel Lee) for the hug!:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mystery Friend&lt;/span&gt; (who later revealed is Ang) for the really adorable notebook! And accomplice &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nicolette&lt;/span&gt; for trying to distract me, making me seem totally a blurr sotong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And thank you &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;EVERYONE ELSE&lt;/span&gt; for the wishes! Many "HAPPY BIRTHDAY TESSA!" here and there. And hand shakes and hugs and so on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Reminds me, thanks Duckie for stealing Eeyore.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;my choir&lt;/span&gt; serenading me xD/singing happy birthday:D And &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mer&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tis&lt;/span&gt; and&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Celle&lt;/span&gt; too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically everyone for playing a part in making today so special.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also for my dearest friends who broadcasted to all the teachers that it was my birthday, making today really painless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lovies:D&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8TH APRIL&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1513:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spanish explorer Juan Ponce de Leon discovers Florida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1838:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brunel's 236 foot steamship Great Western leaves Bristol for New York on her maiden voyage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1904:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Britain and France signed the entente cordiale, resolving disputes about areas of Northern Africa and establishing diplomacy between the two nations.&lt;a style="" class="hotlink" href="http://www.thehistorychannel.co.uk/site/encyclopedia/article_show/Madagascar/m0019814.html?from=hotlink" target="_SELF"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1907:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Britain and France confrim the independence of Siam (Now Thailand)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1908:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;King Edward VII  appoints Liberal politician Herbert Asquith as British Prime Minister following the death of Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1925:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Australian Government and the British Colonial Office offer low-interest loans to encourage Britons borrow the money to emigrate to Australia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1940:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;World War II: Germany invades Norway&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1953:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Futre Kenyan President Jomo Kenyatta is convicted in Kenya of involvement with the terrorist Mau Mau organisation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1967:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bare-foot English singer Sandie Shaw wins the Eurovision Song Contest for the United Kingdom with 'Pupet On A String'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1973:&lt;br /&gt;Master artist Pablo Picasso died at his chateau, near Canne in France.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1974:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hank Aaron, the American baseball star slugged his way to 715 homeruns, beating the Babe Ruth's total, despite receiving daily death threats to leave the record alone. Nevertheless, Aaron finished his career with an amazing 756 homeruns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1986:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;American actor  Clint Eastwood is elected Mayor of Carmel in California.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1994:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;The lead singer of rock band Nirvana, Kurt Cobain, commits suicide by shooting himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1995:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;After twelve years on death row, Richard Ingram, the British man on death row, he was electrocuted for the murder he committed against J.C Sawyer in 1983.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1996:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tessa Oh was born:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;2008:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MY 100th POST:D FINALLY:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something cool about my birthday, Picasso died. HAHA. (:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-8505507470168115377?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/8505507470168115377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=8505507470168115377' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/8505507470168115377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/8505507470168115377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/04/8th-april-1513-spanish-explorer-juan.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-6654003508027150030</id><published>2008-04-06T10:30:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T10:52:38.702+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Birthday:D'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quizes:D'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;HAAAAAAPPPYYYYY BIRRRTTHHDAAAY INAAAAAAAAAAAA&lt;3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're a grand age of 13! Good for you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall go bake your lovely cookies later. Wish me luck(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-  &lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg="" style="color: rgb(238, 238, 238);" align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Georgia,Times New Roman,Times,serif;font-size:14;color:black;"   &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are An ISFP&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatsyourpersonalitytypequiz/isfp.gif" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Artist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are a gifted artist or musician (though your talents may be dormant right now).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You enjoy spending your free time in nature, and you are good with animals and children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simply put, you enjoy beauty in all its forms and live for the simple pleasures in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gentle, sensitive, and compassionate - you are good at recognizing people's unspoken needs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In love, you are quiet and sweet yet very passionate. You love easily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have an underlying love for all living things, and it's easy for you to accept someone into your heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At work, you do best in an unconventional position. You express yourself well and can work with almost anyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You would make a good veterinarian, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;pediatrician (dream career path. Hint hint)&lt;/span&gt;, or composer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How you see yourself: Sympathetic, kind, and communicative&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When other people don't get you, they see you as: Incompetent, insecure, and overly sensitive (agreed.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatsyourpersonalitytypequiz/"&gt;What's Your Personality Type?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-6654003508027150030?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/6654003508027150030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=6654003508027150030' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/6654003508027150030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/6654003508027150030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/04/haaaaaapppyyyyy-birrrtthhdaaay.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-3538175624005038755</id><published>2008-04-05T13:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T13:24:41.215+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="center" bg style="color:#eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Your Family Is 68% Dysfunctional&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/isyourfamilydysfunctionalquiz/family-4.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your family definitely has some major problems, and they're still effecting you today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's time for you to step back, reassess, and decide what kind of role your family should have in your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The people around you can be toxic, and there's no reason to let your family bring you down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consider getting some therapy or talking the situation over with a good friend. And spend more time around people who truly care for you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/isyourfamilydysfunctionalquiz/"&gt;Is Your Family Dysfunctional?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I rest my case.&lt;span style="display: block;" id="formatbar_Buttons"&gt;&lt;span class="" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_JustifyLeft" title="Align Left" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 10);ButtonMouseDown(this);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-3538175624005038755?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/3538175624005038755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=3538175624005038755' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/3538175624005038755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/3538175624005038755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/04/your-family-is-68-dysfunctional-your.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-4240599252621875217</id><published>2008-04-04T16:54:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T17:21:00.195+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I swear I'll never do yeoman service ever again in my entire life. It was horrible, though I'm not surprised I'd say so. Sigh. So much for a wasted Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="center" bg style="color:#eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are 40% Shy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/howshyareyouquiz/shy-2.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are slightly shy, but overall, your reactions to social situations are normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You dread difficult social situations, but you still handle them with grace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howshyareyouquiz/"&gt;How Shy Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="center" bg style="color:#eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are 40% Boyish and 60% Girlish&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/howboyishorgirlishareyouquiz/unisex.gif" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are pretty evenly split down the middle - a total eunuch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, kidding about the eunuch part. But you do get along with both sexes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You reject traditional gender roles. However, you don't actively fight them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're just you. You don't try to be what people expect you to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howboyishorgirlishareyouquiz/"&gt;How Boyish or Girlish Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Top 10 Friends&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Choose 10 Friends&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Jo Ee :D&lt;br /&gt;2. Fiona Leong (:&lt;br /&gt;3. Rachel Loh :D&lt;br /&gt;4. Sharon Soon :D&lt;br /&gt;5. Sean Sim (:&lt;br /&gt;6. Timothy Heng:D&lt;br /&gt;7. Rebecca Heng(:&lt;br /&gt;8. Ina Lin:D&lt;br /&gt;9. Deborah Eu (:&lt;br /&gt;10. Rachel Cheng :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;If you're wondering, Sharon's over and she chose these people, so sorry if you aren't there &gt;&lt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Does 4 have small feet &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sharon says "I guess so? A lot of people say I have..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Have you and 7 ever hooked up &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh my. NO?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Where the furthest youve gone with 8 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As in...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Does 1 get on your nerves somtime &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes. She Does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Does 6 have a bf/gf &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHAHAHA. In his dreams!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Has 5 ever been your bf/gf &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;When is 2s birthday &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3rd January.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Is 6 Loud &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How did you meet 8 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long time ago in a faraway land there lived a...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Does 9 live close to you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you talk on msn with 3 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep. Lots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you go to the same school as 1 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep yep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Does 3 go to school &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Duh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Have you ever had a crush on 4 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO! WHAT THE HELL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What would you buy 8 for X-mas &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hehehe. Good question &gt;&lt; I wonder if she's using last years Christmas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Describe 5 in 3 words &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is weird?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you see 9 at least once a week&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too many times!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Does 7 love you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aw, no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Does 3 make you laugh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Is 4 a mean person&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sharon says "I can be mean..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Is 10 nice &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope. Waha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ever hugged 8 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Would you ever date 1 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO WHAT THE HELL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Would 7 and 2 make a cute couple&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In personality wise, they're perfect for each other &gt;&lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Would you sleep with 4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO! HAHAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Have you ever hugged 1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How long have you know 9 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite a short time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you see 2 alot &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Does 10 make you hapy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, she doesn't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What's 5 favortie color&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Are you and 6 close&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kinda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How did you meet 10&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In school one day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Have you kissed 3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOPE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Have you meet 1 parents&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/S77051/Top_10_Friends.html" title="Top 10 Friends"&gt;Take this survey&lt;/a&gt; | &lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/surveys" title="Bzoink Surveys"&gt;Find more surveys&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/" title="Bzoink"&gt;Bzoink&lt;/a&gt; - The Original Survey Site&lt;embed src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/CIMP/Jmx*PTEyMDczMDAyODQ*MDgmcHQ9MTIwNzMwMDI4ODExMiZwPTg5MjExJmQ9Jm49.swf" flashvars="" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="0" width="0"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-4240599252621875217?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/4240599252621875217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=4240599252621875217' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/4240599252621875217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/4240599252621875217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-swear-ill-never-do-yeoman-service.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-5415720632376563353</id><published>2008-04-03T22:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T22:49:50.520+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Bored. I need to post today though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I FEEL LIKE KILLING SOMEONE. Sigh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-5415720632376563353?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/5415720632376563353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=5415720632376563353' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5415720632376563353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5415720632376563353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/04/bored.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-3384011963002275722</id><published>2008-04-02T21:40:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T21:58:03.537+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>RACHEL AND I APPARENTLY WORK WELL TOGETHER IN MATHS! *GASPS*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But still, we ahem, shout at each other a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rachel: "YOU GOON! YOU'RE WRONG!"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "I'M NOT! I THINK I'M CORRECT! REALLY!"&lt;br /&gt;Rachel: "NO! IT'S WRONG!" *stares at paper*&lt;br /&gt;Me: "I CAN'T BE WRONG!"&lt;br /&gt;Rachel: "FINE! YOU'RE NOT WRONG!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rachel: "LET ME SEE QUESTION 2!"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "WALAO!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well Rachel, if more percentage worksheets come, we're doomed. I SOLVED QUESTION 5! HA! I knew it! 10% IS 46!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. Okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to feeling sick. I have a headachel and I want to sleep):&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-3384011963002275722?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/3384011963002275722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=3384011963002275722' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/3384011963002275722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/3384011963002275722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/04/rachel-and-i-apparently-work-well.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-7424269894532632991</id><published>2008-04-01T17:57:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T20:40:55.287+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>[edit]&lt;br /&gt;Omg, I'm like the boredest person in the whole world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh. I can do work! ...but aiya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I feel a little adgitated. Ahwells.&lt;br /&gt;[/edit]&lt;br /&gt;I think I write the most shit ass compos in the world. They're so cheesy, corny and retarded. Plus I sound like a two year old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall time my post such that in a week's time, I shall be at my 100th post. I should be in time. Hehe. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so retarded. Oh, why am I not surprised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to bake next Monday, prepare birthday cards, scout for Sarah's present and yep. Sigh. So many miscellaneous stuff. Where does the studying come in? GOD KNOWS MAN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like giving up. It's so TIRING. DRAINING. I need sleep. I need sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my bloody average for a English paper is like 77-79. ANNOYING. HIT 80 CANNOT MEH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bloody careless I am.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Waiting for your call, I'm sick, call I'm angry&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Call I'm desperate for your voice&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-7424269894532632991?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/7424269894532632991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=7424269894532632991' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7424269894532632991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7424269894532632991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-think-i-write-most-shit-ass-compos-in.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-2707124704681853202</id><published>2008-03-31T17:37:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T17:55:36.825+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Every breath you take&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Every move you make&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Every bond you break&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Every step you take&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'll be watching you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Every single day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Every word you say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Every game you play&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Every step you take&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'll be watching you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Oh can't you see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You belong to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How my poor heart aches&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;With every step you take&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And every move you make &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Every vow you break&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Every smile you fake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Every claim you stake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'll be watching you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Since you've gone I've been lost without a trace  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I dream at night I can only see your face &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I look around but it's you I can't replace&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I feel so cold and I long for your embrace&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I keep crying baby, baby, please&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Oh can't you see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You belong to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How my poor heart aches&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;With every step you take&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Every move you make&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Every vow you break&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Every smile you fake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Every claim you stake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'll be watching you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Every move you make&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Every step you take &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'll be watching you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;Tessa will make sure she scores well for SA1, because:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-She knows that with good grades, comes happy parents and jealous twin. :D&lt;br /&gt;-With every paper she scores, she lets her parents guard off her (which is so much less stressful)&lt;br /&gt;-She won't need to search around the house for the lappy, when she needs it.&lt;br /&gt;-She won't be filled with regret for not doing better, studying harder&lt;br /&gt;-She'll be over the moon, like really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;English she MUST score.&lt;br /&gt;Chinese she MUST improve (like seriously.)&lt;br /&gt;Maths she MUST try to be better! (Because that makes Tessa happy! When she is capable of doing something that she sucks at!)&lt;br /&gt;Science she MUST DO BETTER (Everyone wants to be good at something they enjoy! I must go back to where I was, the best in Science!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tessa will get higher in her compos, making Rachel C. bow down to her! I will get 35 for my next compo! Bearing in mind the character development, etc.!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tessa will be nicer to her dear ones, because she always strives so!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tessa will exercise like she used to! Before dengue hit her!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And apart from all these, she really really is tired, from school. It's so draining!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She can't wait to have no CCA, because GB is time consuming. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But fear not! She will make a come back! :D&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Honestly, honey, do you really think I didn't know?;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's only because you think you know everything dear.&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/6819780661942236823-2707124704681853202?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/2707124704681853202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=2707124704681853202' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2707124704681853202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2707124704681853202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/03/every-breath-you-take-every-move-you.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-977811212881367223</id><published>2008-03-29T21:43:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-29T21:56:26.274+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mama, didn't mean to make you cry. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Carry on, carry on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so life goes on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I uh, don't really know what I should tell you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-977811212881367223?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/977811212881367223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=977811212881367223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/977811212881367223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/977811212881367223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/03/mama-didnt-mean-to-make-you-cry.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-5487196918846049880</id><published>2008-03-27T21:57:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T22:14:39.691+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sarcasm much?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, why do I bother to still bear with all your comments? I'm obviously the dumbest person in the world.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel real anymore. I feel as if I'm being consumed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sick, not sick. Dengue, no dengue, screw it, I don't mind ending it right now. I really, really don't see the point going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because all I want to know is to see what happens when I die, who would really care, really. The answer to "Who are really my friends?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like some materialistic world. Someone says "Oh, you know, I really care for you" and someone doesn't show any sign of anything but in the end, the one that 'cares' is a hypocrite (milo joke sharon :P) and obviously was merely saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then how does the term 'best friends' come about, because honestly I don't see how anyone can fit that description. You THINK she's/he's your best friend but you don't KNOW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, that person for all you know gossips about you behind your back. Some best friend. It might sound really self-indulged but I think you can only be your own best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, I'm a really bad friend so I can't fit what I want in a best friend. Gah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh then there's the type of people, like me, who think you can trust everyone just cause they're nice to you. Then you spill everything and voila! That person knows everything about you, exposes you and then...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're left with nothing. Nothing but being backstabbed and betrayed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who can you really trust?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I doubt there's really anyone, really.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-5487196918846049880?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/5487196918846049880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=5487196918846049880' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5487196918846049880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5487196918846049880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/03/sarcasm-much-god-why-do-i-bother-to.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-373071965567437018</id><published>2008-03-25T14:17:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T14:23:04.181+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sick, sick, sick. With God knows what. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hum, maybe I've gotten dengue! :D It's the paranoid thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my sickness has led me to have peaceful sleep, lovely dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hohum:D&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-373071965567437018?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/373071965567437018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=373071965567437018' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/373071965567437018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/373071965567437018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/03/sick-sick-sick.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-8871545581425869362</id><published>2008-03-17T22:04:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-17T22:09:34.217+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I really love British writers. Seriously, I really love them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finished &lt;i&gt;Can You Keep A Secret by Sophie Kinsella&lt;/i&gt; and I loved it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I just don't get it, how can a person enter your life and change every single thing about it? I mean, this doesn't beat Nineteen Minutes but it's one awesome book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I suddenly want to read the Undomestic Godess again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to finish Life Swap but I can't find it. I might have lost it. /:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-8871545581425869362?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/8871545581425869362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=8871545581425869362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/8871545581425869362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/8871545581425869362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-really-love-british-writers.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-337369888121433507</id><published>2008-03-16T20:29:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:00:46.128+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I think I might have gone completely insane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah Anonymous, I might start to like you a little. You've got some sense of humour. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't finished my homework. And all I've been doing is going craazy over The Notebook. And Ryan Gosling *Swoons*. I really love that movie! I really do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R90Tg26lDTI/AAAAAAAAAOc/HgQ-Pl-VphQ/s1600-h/allienoah21.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R90Tg26lDTI/AAAAAAAAAOc/HgQ-Pl-VphQ/s200/allienoah21.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178316601763892530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;i&gt;"What happens if a c&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;ar comes?"&lt;br /&gt;"We die."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might die. Seriously. Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams really did it, I love that movie. 100%. Now if you ask me what my favourite movie is, I can answer you straight away, "The Notebook (2004)". I want the novel now! I want the novel by Nicholas Sparks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Borrow the movie from me. Seriously! I garuntee you it's an awesome movie. No one can resist!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R90Ua26lDUI/AAAAAAAAAOk/o4HpEPkCOBA/s1600-h/000nb10.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R90Ua26lDUI/AAAAAAAAAOk/o4HpEPkCOBA/s200/000nb10.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178317598196305218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Now say you're a bird"&lt;br /&gt;"If you're a bird, I'm a bird"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-337369888121433507?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/337369888121433507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=337369888121433507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/337369888121433507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/337369888121433507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-think-i-might-have-gone-completely.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R90Tg26lDTI/AAAAAAAAAOc/HgQ-Pl-VphQ/s72-c/allienoah21.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6819780661942236823.post-6600011703059401368</id><published>2008-03-15T20:37:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:00:46.635+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sorry Anonymous, I got tired of being cheerful. Blogs are made for ranting! And camp is already a boring topic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, by the way, my group got 3rd place:D.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe that the school holidays are ending. Sigh, so much for a holiday. Zoom! And it's over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had the chinese culture camp. FIONA SEND ME THE PICTURES!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got grouped with Sarah, lw, Jolene and Shu Kit (Who can't seem to keep her mouth shut). Honestly, it was quite fun. It was after all a culture camp so nothing too 'chinese'. Plus if you bear in mind that I had our dearest lw in my group (who isn't a very good role model! (: ) then yeah, it was fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Highlight of the camp: Painting the palette army green and then proceeding to paint our hands and then doing stupid things in the toilet (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah and we ate oily youtiao and drank SOYA BEAN:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sharon: *looks at schedule* GOT SOYA BEAN!&lt;br /&gt;Me: SOYA BEAN?! YAY! I'm going:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're so laaame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that Fi's father brought us out for lovely SUSHI TEI:D And if you go to &lt;a href="http://kisseshoney.blogspot.com/"&gt;sharon's blog&lt;/a&gt; you would see an extremely unglam picture of me going to eat the sashimi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SERIOUSLY SHARON?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Said byebye to Fi and then we went to bake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not trying to be ego or anything but,&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;b&gt;THEY TASTE FREAKING DELICIOUS&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. And they're addictive! I'm craving for more! I actually finished everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel the urge to bake some more. Really feel the urge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R9vHEm6lDRI/AAAAAAAAAOM/GRNQv07-AYI/s1600-h/isdfj.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R9vHEm6lDRI/AAAAAAAAAOM/GRNQv07-AYI/s200/isdfj.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177951078572166418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Okay, so they don't look that great, but they taste awesome. Seriously, no joke. I have other people who tasted them, and they agree. Mer, Ina, Sean, Tim, Rachel, Sharon, my Gran, Darien and me think they're some awesome cookies okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel a sense of achievement. Thanks Sharon and Rachel &lt;3. Credits to them too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, we went a little nuts while walking in the rain. HEH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday:&lt;br /&gt;I woke up at 10, FINALLY. Did I mention I overslept the day before and was late? Yes, I am extremely deprived of sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Met Ina and then we went to my house. Shh, secret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OKAY, basically, we did absolutely nothing. I think having to do that is quite fun. I mean like, at least I'm bored with someone else. &gt;&lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We watched a movie, quite okay lah. Sharon and I do that all the time. She comes over, we watch something together, she goes home. There, day done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it's Saturday and I did nothing. I wanted to study but I felt so lazy and I couldn't think straight so I left it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll finish my Maths paper by tomorrow. PROMISE.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-6600011703059401368?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/6600011703059401368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=6600011703059401368' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/6600011703059401368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/6600011703059401368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/03/sorry-anonymous-i-got-tired-of-being.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R9vHEm6lDRI/AAAAAAAAAOM/GRNQv07-AYI/s72-c/isdfj.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6819780661942236823.post-4928978104532607618</id><published>2008-03-12T17:53:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-12T18:35:17.145+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Since anonymous think's I'm 'emo' (clearly she hasn't met Jo), this is going to blow your socks off. And screw it if I really sound ridiculously stupid and childish.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OKAY! I promised you an upupdate on camp after everything ended so here it is(: I don't care if you don't care about my life:D Anyway, no one reads the shit I write anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOHUM(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall just tell you what happened on Tueday since it was the most interesting day. Sad eh. Today was quite boringg. /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Humum, we had devotions from Mrs Yap before we went to place icebreakers. WHICH WAS REALLY FUN:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Splited into our empires (which by the way, &lt;b&gt;EARTH-lings rule the ELEMENT SCENE:D&lt;/b&gt;) and played some weirdish game that was quite fun &gt;&lt; Basically, Sofi, Debs, Rachel Cheng, Loh and I tact-teamed and did a lot of re-tar-ded stuff before like everyone else was eliminated and the awesome sixes and quite wonderful p5s were left, we awesome sixes joined forces and created the most amazing row-row-row-your-boat team in the whole universe!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until the P5s came and joined our boat and then we got kicked out cause there were too many people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT IN THE END. AN EARTHLING SURVIVED! Amongst the FIRE PEOPLE (I don't know what they're called. I only know that the Metal empire people are called metalic. HAHA) I'm, for once, proud of Debs(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we played some snakes and ladders game, AKA JACOBS LADDER, and we were the first to sit down but they don't see us! ):&lt; RACHEL AND I WERE THE SEXY SEVEN (HAHAHA) and we ran and I tripped over someones leg and nearly fell down. HAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, split into our levels and went for the leadership module thing and played animal concentration! FUN! I was the DOG and Tardy was the CAT! HAHA! The animal actions we had were quite hilarious :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AFTER THAT WERE THE WAAAAAAR GAAAAAMES! (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had to do our lame-ish cheer to get the masking tape! The one and only thing that we need to create the most awesome SUNSHINE (I'll get there)/LIFE LINE in the universe! HAHA:D Sofi and I were the masking tape ladies who distributed lovely maksing tape until we finished the whole roll.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...okay so maybe Alex (our EXTREMELY BLUR facilitator) told us that it MIGHT (Alex: "MIGHT ah, MIGHT ONLY") use it for water games. And since we used newpaper to wrap, we used the masking tape to make it kind of water-proof.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, LET THE GAMES BEGIIIINNN! We split into our groups, said bye to QUAKE (quaker oats) and then FISSURE(&lt;b&gt;RULES THE EARTH SCENE&lt;/b&gt;, which by the way is some pokemon attack. I wonder which nerd-of-a-facilitator was the one who made that thing up for us) went out and went to play our first game:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;PASSING WATER.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was rather stupid. ALEX WAS THERE (Alex: "I don't have a watch, I forgot to bring it down" We: "ALEEEEX?!!") to try and control us. And since we were the first group there, it was rather hard for him. We had to pass the water to the person behind us using the cup WITHOUT LOOKING BACK. Shakeera spilt the whole cup on me. WHAT THE HELL. But it was quite fun, and we WON:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FISSURE RULES:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tessa then realises that the stations were washed away with the water so we had to try to remember what our stations were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next game: BODY PARTS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interesting bit: SHAKEERA AND I USED OUR BUTT TO TRANSPORT A BOTTLE OF SOYA SAUCE TO THE OTHER SIDE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;!?!@#!@#&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it kept falling off our asses and we lost anyway but the stupid METALIC group member kept whining at us "EHEH. YOU ALL CHEAT. YOU HAVE TO START AGAIN!!" Then Jia Ling (Our not so blur facilitator), Shakeera and I were like "YOU WIN ALREADY LAH, WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid ______.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 3rd game sucked balls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;HELL (AKA MAZEY GAME)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was literally, very disgusting. First we thread the rope into our T-shirts, suffering a very tickelish sensation. Now I know how our clothes feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first one was not so bad, cause we dipped out hand into the flour cause we chose the easier task (all we get to pick are just coloured cards with nothing on them). Before Jia Ling came to throw flour at us. And before we proceeded to throw floor at each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second one is what I'd like to call the TERIAKI SAUCE MIXTURE. It was black, mushy, mucky, slimey, sticky, and totally disgusting. Rachel smeared some on my shirt T-T We proceeded to put a dirty brush through our shirt. EEK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Third one was the worst. It was soil, worms, snails, mud, grass and UGH, like your backyard blended together after it rains. EEK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we managed. Thank God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tessa was shrieking. And I had to force her hand into the bucket. /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I'm tired, to be continued.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-4928978104532607618?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/4928978104532607618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=4928978104532607618' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/4928978104532607618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/4928978104532607618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/03/since-anonymous-thinks-im-emo-clearly.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-120030593718385114</id><published>2008-03-11T19:51:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T20:05:39.870+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Two days of the holidays gone, and I must say It's been kind of fruitful. The camp was fun today, but really disgusting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really want to go into details until tomorrow, when half of my holidays are gone. I'm looking forward to the second half(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sharon, Rachel Cheng, Jo Ee, Rachel Loh, Sandrea and Ina (:&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder, can you ever make anything go back to the same again? You look back to the life you had and you can't help but miss it, even the slightest bit. You want to forgive, to forget. You're almost there, but they're not willing to except it, so why bother change? Why try?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because you actually are willing to forgive and to be sorry, if it means anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't know, I'm afraid actually, of telling someone I'm sorry. Because I don't think they'll except it, I don't think they'll care. Because everyone has moved on, but me? I'm still thinking maybe we can be friends again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess, I don't really miss you, I miss her. I miss who she was, and who she used to be. I guess she's not the person I knew then, but I still miss talking to her all the same. She knows, herself, that we can't go back, so why do I try?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I'm willing to be her good friend again. I'm willing to make the effort. I guess saying is pointless, it's the act. I don't know, it was just a feeling. Quite a strong one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you know who I'm talking about, and it happens to be you and you came across this post, then I'm sorry. And if you're willing to accept it, I want another chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rash, and very unforgiving I was, and I suddenly realised, I am. I can't bear grudges easily, I should try not to at least. Of all the things I've changed to become, why can't it be this that had changed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Company, friends. I've made a few dear ones, but, I can't help miss the old ones. I don't know. I can try to say I love my life now but sometimes I still feel out of place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frankly, I don't really know how I should feel or feel anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-120030593718385114?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/120030593718385114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=120030593718385114' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/120030593718385114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/120030593718385114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/03/two-days-of-holidays-gone-and-i-must.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-8292314295001746402</id><published>2008-03-09T19:06:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T19:13:19.390+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Regretted cutting my hair? I don't think so, but it's really short. Though thanks to our stupid school rules, it's still long enough to be tied up. But since I layered my hair, there's going to be a slight problem and it also involves thousands of clips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, I bought the balloons (okay so my mum bought them for me) and some silver streamer things for LTC (I mean, they can't possibly just use balloons right?! To decorate the &lt;b&gt;hall&lt;/b&gt;). Honestly, I am looking (kind of) forward to it, but not so much for my piano exam, which I might fail. Correction, I will fail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I need to do some card shit for the secondary prefects. Geesh. What have they done for us? I don't know, mock our intelligence because they think they're so smart just cause they're older.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I watched V for Vendetta today and it is quite a good movie. But because I love Romance films, not a favourite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Notebook still pwns! :D&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shall practice piano and complete some more work. Toodles.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-8292314295001746402?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/8292314295001746402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=8292314295001746402' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/8292314295001746402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/8292314295001746402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/03/regretted-cutting-my-hair-i-dont-think.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-718760092014430541</id><published>2008-03-08T13:39:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-08T13:54:12.180+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Of hopes to study this week, I'll made time to do my work despite my busy schedual. And I have yet to sms my dad and my tution teacher. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Homework&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chinese:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-CA1&lt;br /&gt;-单元 1&lt;br /&gt;-单元 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;English:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Research on Greece (for International Friendship Day)&lt;br /&gt;-Mid Year Examination paper 1&lt;br /&gt;-Draw the IFD doll (they really think we're so free)&lt;br /&gt;-Make a fairy tale mask (?!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Science:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Revision paper 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Maths:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Test 4 (Ratio)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Miscellaneous:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Find out how to bake cookies (HAHA!)&lt;br /&gt;-Buy stuff for ^&lt;br /&gt;-Do my art piece (I hate Mrs Shah)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And anyway I'm not even sure if everyone can make it for Baking. SO I shall go call them too! I'm busy, very busy.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday: LTC (0830 - 1800) and piano exam&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday: LTC(0830 - 1800)&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday: LTC (0830 - 1300), Sharon coming over (? Need to comfirm too)&lt;br /&gt;Thursday: Chinese camp (? - 1200), Baking:D&lt;br /&gt;Friday: I'm going home (away from my dad to my mum's because my dad sucks) and meeting Ina. :X I swear, no one shall tell on me.&lt;br /&gt;Saturday: Daiso shopping with Sharon [and Fiona?] (HAHA)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If anyone wants to cancel TELL ME NOW or I'll murder you. *Stares at Ina, Rachel C, Sharon, Jo, Sandrea and Fiona*&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to go cut my hair and buy balloons and comfirm my schedual once and for all. I need to do my homework and study, which I did make time for by the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, Looking for Alasking is a GREAT book. If you want to know, I stayed up until 1:30 last night reading and woke up at only 1 today. Whoops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoops also reminds me of Little Miss Whoops which the book I borrowed from the library. Yes, I am childish, so are you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my computer came back today:D&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;It's playing on repeat, just like when we would meet&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-718760092014430541?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/718760092014430541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=718760092014430541' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/718760092014430541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/718760092014430541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/03/of-hopes-to-study-this-week-ill-made.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-4861759022009692631</id><published>2008-03-06T21:18:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-06T21:22:10.477+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I sprained my, uh, thigh muscle? I don't even know what happened, it hurts so bad /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No more sleeping late! I'm refraining from doing so or else I'll be sleeping at any possible time during lesson, like today. I slept during chapel and in between lessons and I took a nap just now and yet I'm still exhausted. Boo/:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My holidays are officially killed. I already planned out everything and my free-est days are the week ends and Friday. Amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm kind of tired and bored but I don't really want to sleep. Maybe it's because I'm not wearing my specs so I feel worse. /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PICTURE DAY TOMORROW D:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-4861759022009692631?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/4861759022009692631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=4861759022009692631' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/4861759022009692631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/4861759022009692631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-sprained-my-uh-thigh-muscle-i-dont.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-5866041236297624946</id><published>2008-03-04T17:41:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-04T18:09:16.478+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I know natural suck-ups and those who &lt;i&gt; deliberately want&lt;/i&gt; to be teacher's pet (ahem. ahem. a lot of them belong to 6.3) but why oh why is it that teachers like to pick on me? Is it because I always give them the "NO! DON'T PICK ME LOOK!" so they just have to pick me .__. Anyway, I have no leadership potential so I don't understand what's up with the world lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First was Mrs David suddenly choosing me to be the relay system group leader, after that picking me first during our composition-weak-pair-up-with-strong writers session, then hearing that I was chosen to be the shitty assistant group leader for sports carnival (?! Though that doesn't really make much sense cause &lt;s&gt;Deborah Yap&lt;/s&gt; was chosen too. Heh) and now &lt;b&gt;receiving the form to go for the leadership camp thing from 10 March - 12 March (killing my whole march 'holidays') which is supposed to be open to CCA leaders, prefects and apparently class chairperson and vice chairperson.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, since when was being a JL in GB make you a CCA leader in the first place? I remember going with Clarissa to ask Mrs Chong last year whether the both of us were considered CCA leaders and she said no. So why the sudden change? Anyway, they only selected like two girls (as far as I'm concerned, Berenice and I) and Tianna was not chosen. Not fair! Why choose me, who said I had leadership potential anyway?! I slack and uh, am mostly irresponsible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really want to go. And anyway, I have my piano exam on that day so I can't attend the thing, unless I go slightly later. I might just go to skip tuition though ^^.  And if it counts as anything to even attend it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can imagine my parents telling me it's good to be in favour with the teachers and it would be a good opportunity to go for it as experience. They say that for everything related to leadership that I do/attend .__. And they aren't very supportive or happy that I'm in GB in the first place. Like majority of my level, it's a loser and time-wasting CCA. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quote my step-dad, &lt;i&gt;"It's just to waste time and for your pure enjoyment. Like floorball to Mer."&lt;/i&gt; Or at least something along those lines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of which, it's that time of year again in which I choose between asking my dad to go for enrolment service or my mum. Dad, embarrassing, mum, more unsporting, could not care less, always late and later make fun of or have something to say. Sheesh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I'd rather none of them come but they like to show their face to prove to the other side of the family (i.e mum to show my dad and dad to show my mum) that they are supportive and good parents. And I need to get the bloody form signed anyway.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Results, not to be talked about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-5866041236297624946?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/5866041236297624946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=5866041236297624946' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5866041236297624946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5866041236297624946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-know-natural-suck-ups-and-those-who.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-9112810088783410357</id><published>2008-03-02T15:12:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:00:47.728+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The 2004 mg CA1 paper is really easy. This shows how much the standards have risen in 4 years :O&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really have much to do. Happy 80th post, like that's of any significance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hm. I shall read and listen to music and write. For the rest of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I found out who got out of American Idol last week on the 28/02/08. Not:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brooke White (AKA Pretty Blonde[: )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R8pW2uJQxzI/AAAAAAAAANs/UcfNTSgj2eY/s1600-h/29546.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R8pW2uJQxzI/AAAAAAAAANs/UcfNTSgj2eY/s200/29546.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173042620088239922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ramiele Malubay (The Asian Girl:D)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R8pXdOJQx0I/AAAAAAAAAN0/H0KP0fSZl4I/s1600-h/29582.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R8pXdOJQx0I/AAAAAAAAAN0/H0KP0fSZl4I/s200/29582.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173043281513203522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I have nothing against the rest of the girls, I kinda like all of them, but I like the both of them the best:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael Johns (The Australian Guy)&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R8pZxOJQx1I/AAAAAAAAAN8/zdA-ovss5nY/s1600-h/29477.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R8pZxOJQx1I/AAAAAAAAAN8/zdA-ovss5nY/s200/29477.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173045824133842770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I don't know why people said he didn't do that well that week but I thought he was quite good. Better than last week. Definately (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;David Archuleta&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R8pZxuJQx2I/AAAAAAAAAOE/fCnqR1ZMrAc/s1600-h/29416.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R8pZxuJQx2I/AAAAAAAAAOE/fCnqR1ZMrAc/s200/29416.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173045832723777378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;If any of them uh, get out soon, I'll hate American Idol. D:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-9112810088783410357?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/9112810088783410357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=9112810088783410357' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/9112810088783410357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/9112810088783410357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/03/2004-mg-ca1-paper-is-really-easy.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R8pW2uJQxzI/AAAAAAAAANs/UcfNTSgj2eY/s72-c/29546.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6819780661942236823.post-4202132765590389157</id><published>2008-03-01T19:11:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T20:57:59.803+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Happy 1st March! Yay! I don't know why I'm happy. /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hohum. I can remember March 07 quite vividly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on, The Leap Years (Leap of Love) was quite a good movie! I thought Wong Li Lin was quite pretty. And as expected, I cried a lot &gt;&lt;. DON'T JUDGE ME. I cannot watch sappy romantic movies, it makes me cry a lot. Yes, I'm emotional, screw you.  Though it was not nearly as bad as &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0332280/"&gt;The Notebook&lt;/a&gt; in which I cried a lot more. The Notebook was a good movie okay! I liked it A LOT. It might be my favourite movie all time. The male leading actor (the older version I think) looks a lot like Fred from Taking Back Sunday (who left like the band already. Sad. He was a good back-up vocalist after the other guy left).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was extremely cliche but whatever. Not bad for a local movie. Only problem is that their voices sounded VERY, EXTREMELY unprofessional and they sounded like they had a very bad diction and english. Can't stand it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2/5 stars. Because it could be improved (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AMERICAN IDOL RANT:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHY THE HELL IS THAT DANNY GAY STILL IN AMERICAN IDOL?! Sigh. Anyway, I love pretty blonde:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PREEEEETTTAAAYYEEEE BLONNNDAAAAAYEE. My brother and I call her that. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vcoc0HVAgzo"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vcoc0HVAgzo" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="200" width="300"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems that none of my favourites are out yet. (According to Rachel). So until one of them get out, I shall continue to try and not miss watching American Idol. (:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-4202132765590389157?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/4202132765590389157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=4202132765590389157' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/4202132765590389157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/4202132765590389157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/03/happy-1st-march-yay-i-dont-know-why-im.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-3990329502096444837</id><published>2008-02-29T15:55:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-29T16:31:33.959+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Science was. Amazingly. Oh so freaking easy. But I'm afraid to say it out loud just in case it might be just me /: This just proves how low my self confidence is. Or maybe it's becaue 2 years back when I said the paper was easy, it was used agaisnt me when the results came out bad. Argh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, CA1 is OVER. Yet, I can't say "NO MORE EXAMS!" because it'll end with "...until PSLE is over." And guess what we do after our Science exam is over? We check when Prelims would be. /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sofi, Jo and I then proceed to freak out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, goodbye Febuary, you were a really bad month though /: Hello March(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="200" width="300"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/guPXicaw3po"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/guPXicaw3po" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="200" width="300"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To greet March the first, I'm watching The Leap Years with Jo, Sandrea, Denise, Sharon and Rachel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SHARON&lt;/strong&gt; you better cancel your tuition! ): &lt; I want to go with you to J8 and have lunch! Meh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If not... I'M CALLING RACHEL! Maybe she can go with me. Anyway, I'm going to see if my mum would allow me to book tickets for us. Cause I'm quite sure my dad won't allow me. Horrible. :S&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 moths and 9 days to my birthday:D I think/:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And uh. 13th March 2008, Thursday - BAKING DAY WITH RACHEL-RANGERS:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jo, Sandrea, Rachel C (of course), Rachel Loh (uh. INTRUDER. Though at first we were supposed to bake together, Sharon and I are going to attempt to back cookies. Hohoho. After the Chinese Cultre Camp. :X&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I NEED CHECK YES JULIET, SECRET VALENTINE, DEAR JAMIE and WON'T GO HOME WITHOUT YOU IN MY IPOD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate my computer for screwing up on me T-T&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-3990329502096444837?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/3990329502096444837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=3990329502096444837' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/3990329502096444837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/3990329502096444837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/science-was.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-8614980036443638105</id><published>2008-02-28T19:35:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T19:42:30.892+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm screwed for Maths and I feel like a meanie. /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rachel called me but I was asleep and I need my phone to charge so I can't really call her back, and I'm not really in the mood for talking now since I just woke up. Ina however is ignoring my messages. Or maybe one of our phones are screwing up again. /: I have yet to sms sharon though. Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As to 'honeysharon' the poser no lifer who tagged at mine, sharon's and jo's blog:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, I know you're not Sharon because you tagged at three blogs, two of which you posted as the same person and another in which you posted at lihuei. And all of which said the same message. Are you daft?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second of all, I know it's not sharon as if she hated me, why were we so happy today laughing our asses off? Hohum, I might not have known sharon for very long but I think I know her well enough to know that she wouldn't hate me for no good reason, so yeah, screw you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, I don't even see you're point in doing this? What is your motive and who the hell are you ? Obviously, your plan isn't working and I don't really give a shit whether you're planning to be a coward for life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I've banned you. So try tagging, you probably can't. Nyah.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tessa needs a hug/:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-8614980036443638105?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/8614980036443638105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=8614980036443638105' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/8614980036443638105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/8614980036443638105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/im-screwed-for-maths-and-i-feel-like.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-6759873060084242408</id><published>2008-02-27T18:40:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T19:04:00.134+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Indulging in coke and potato chips. Something to make my life much better than it currently is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not really looking forward to maths and science. Boo.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;I love Sharon and Jo!:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They decided to follow me and skip chinese sup to study.  Yes, I did study. I finished 3/4 of the paper before going down to do stupid things with them. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were shrieking (at least I was), laughing and being oh-so-retarded. (: Sharon then proceeded to blow a flying kiss at Ina and started pointing the third finger at little innocent p2s. Hoho :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we were about to sit at the pillar when the girl came and told us that she was using the pillar to play her game so Jo was like "Okay... I'll go to the back of the pillar then!" And then she started playing the game that the p2 girls were playing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After which we settled at the pillar before they proceeded to hit my bruise. I fell down last night while trying to sit at the balcony and now I have two bruises. The one on the knee hurts really badly ):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sharon tried to massage it. "Close your eyes and imagine that you're on a beach. And then a seagull starts pecking at you!" Then she started doing exaggerated pecking actions at my poor bruise before I screamed in agony. They're so nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jo was like "I'm sure you'll die of cancer or something if the blood clots" .__.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just received the relay system .__. I really really wished I was the one getting the message. It was a real pain trying to relay my message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, like last year, they told me to tell everyone to bring an angpao to school tomorrow. A RED angpao. HAHA. I need to remember as I'm the 'group leader'. Bleh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-6759873060084242408?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/6759873060084242408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=6759873060084242408' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/6759873060084242408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/6759873060084242408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/indulging-in-coke-and-potato-chips.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-3050569423252862810</id><published>2008-02-26T17:55:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-26T18:02:00.531+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay, so I'm in quite a good mood(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The language papers weren't really that difficult. I don't know, I think so. But when I think so I wonder if it's just me. Maybe I failed them. Ahwells. I'm sure God will reward me accordingly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I went out for sushi lunch today:D And another thing I love more than sushi is TAKING BACK SUNDAY:D Which I managed to find the album in the large book case-ish thing in That Cd Shop. Whoosh. I shall find a CD player since my damn computer died T-T Baby, is gone. God really wants me to get 260 for PSLE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully my system can be rebooted or something. *Crosses fingers* On the brighter side, it saves me the trouble of clearing my photos and other crap. (: I found out how to rip the songs from my ipod so I'm not worried that I might have just lost all my songs that I tediously downloaded &lt;s&gt;illegally&lt;/s&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should go study. Rawr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, uh, yeah. :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-3050569423252862810?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/3050569423252862810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=3050569423252862810' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/3050569423252862810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/3050569423252862810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/okay-so-im-in-quite-good-mood-language.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-2997557482174739352</id><published>2008-02-25T16:20:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T19:00:03.211+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>If you want to know. The english paper was quite okay. It wasn't as bad as expected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm slacking my ass off now. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-2997557482174739352?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/2997557482174739352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=2997557482174739352' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2997557482174739352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2997557482174739352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/if-you-want-to-know.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-4478113941500422798</id><published>2008-02-24T00:45:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-24T22:11:28.652+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;edit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;English tomorrow and I really don't know what to expect. And I'm feeling horrible now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A certian Rachel isn't replying me and Ina dumped me so I have no one to talk to, which sucks. And I don't really think anyone can compensate with me right now other than them. Ahwells.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall just like roll in bed and try not to panic. *Runs around in triangles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just a freaking exam, what's wrong with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God knows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;/edit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Drowning in all your fears and sorrows&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just sailed the deep blue english sea. From when I woke up to like 18 minutes ago, I did english. I better get a good grade or I swear I'll murder myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, pray for me (: And I'll pray for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jo's rushing me /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uhm, yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basicly, yesterday after that minor setback, I got bitten by several mosquitoes and two of them were Aedes mosquitoes. Hoho, I might get dengue. See you in the hospital, and then in heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I'm going nuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahwells. I shall come up with 100 things I want to do before I die, if I get diagnosed with dengue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to mugging /: PLEASE PRAY. (:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-4478113941500422798?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/4478113941500422798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=4478113941500422798' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/4478113941500422798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/4478113941500422798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/drowning-in-all-your-fears-and-sorrows.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-4637912011209146436</id><published>2008-02-23T19:12:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-23T20:08:21.509+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;edit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm very sad. For the Pei Hwa paper I just did I got 77/95. I don't even want to know what I got over 100%.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall study harder. I'll revise some stuff and do maths and science tomorrow. In the night I'll do another paper and revise more of my english. I want at least 82 to maintain my 86% average. /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;/edit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm losing my sanity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While using my best efforts to study, I suddenly had a minor breakdown. I think it could be worse. My sanity might be slowly slipping away from me. The fear of failure is getting the better of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat there for a whole 10 minutes sobbing. I don't even know why, it was just a slight mental breakdown. Yes, I think I'm going to suffer from depression soon but please don't try to do something about it. I swear I'll punch your socks off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not using my brain I decided to go outside on my balcony-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ish&lt;/span&gt; place and I hung my legs (and fat thighs) over the ledge. It kinda freaked me out, I could have fell off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just really scared that I won't be able to get what is expected from me. What I expect of myself. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The place I'm in isn't the most ideal place for a suicidal/depression/suffering from anxiety person. My grandmother, mother and step father are driving me to the wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really get how parents work either. They never really consider their children's feelings do they? All they expect from their children is to make them proud and happy. To be able to show off their genius and talented kids to their friends. They never think twice about how their selfishness is affecting their children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they scold you and they lecture you, do they think about how the person is feeling at the moment? Do they even care? They always say "It's not because I like to scold you...but something something" then why are they scolding us in the first place?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's something called compromising and understanding. Maybe if adults learn to care about their child's feelings there won't be such &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;miscommunication&lt;/span&gt; between parent and child. They say they want the best for us, but do they even know what our best is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we say we try our best they say it's not enough or it's not our best. Not enough is understandable but not our best?! Are they our brain? Do they know what is out best?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neither do they know how much pressure and stress they put on their kids, how high they set the standards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parents like them are the reasons why there are more children who contemplate the odds of killing themselves, emo kids etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also how often is it that you hear your parents apologise to you for expecting too much from you or for making a wrong move in their life that affected the state of your relationship together?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also how often is it that they admit they're wrong and we are right and obviously smarter than them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe if they use their freaking brains they have we wouldn't be so rebellious either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked my mum for my answer keys it took her five minutes to get what I was saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Geez, and I though I was dumb. Look at her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I don't update in ten days, I probably killed myself. Pray that I'll be still sane, I feel myself having a huge breakdown soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-4637912011209146436?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/4637912011209146436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=4637912011209146436' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/4637912011209146436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/4637912011209146436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-think-im-losing-my-sanity.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-2288071391749164218</id><published>2008-02-21T17:22:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-22T23:53:39.601+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Wish me luck next week - you know you want to. You know you want me to do well for CA1(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the sake of having my march holidays more enjoyable, I have deicded to study so hard this weekend and do well next week. I must suceed! Then I can watch all the movies during the march holidays as well as study in the library with &lt;strong&gt;Jie&lt;/strong&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I LOVE YOU, THE LEAP YEARS, 27 DRESSES and JUMPER! HERE I COME:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, proper update, even though I'm falling asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My chinese teacher left us today. I'm assuming Chen laoshi is coming back soon, then we're back to serious work. Finally. Miss Soh didn't come today either so guess who relieved us this time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MRS LEE, &lt;s&gt;our vice principal that has very bad english, and apparently very long winded and kaypoh too&lt;/s&gt; :X&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was that extremely freaky weird chinese teacher that made Deborah and I laugh so hard! She's so weird! And Danielle's impression on her is hilarious!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sharon came over and we did random things before I sent her home. (: Now Rachel is making me watch some weird thing. Woosh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright. I'm going to bed:X&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-2288071391749164218?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/2288071391749164218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=2288071391749164218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2288071391749164218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2288071391749164218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/im-sorry-for-swearing-in-last-post.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-9202745150692115040</id><published>2008-02-20T21:06:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-20T21:20:45.978+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Post 70 wasn't expected to be like this. I have a lot of happy things to post but I'll save it for another day. Right now, I'm not feeling so good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's thanks to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;YOU&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;YOU&lt;/span&gt; and a little bit of &lt;u&gt;YOU&lt;/u&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't get it. When I try so hard to bear with you, to trust you, you just have to make things worse. To make things feel, feel so unbearable. I don't really know what to say. I'm frankly  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fucking speachless&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I try to please you, I'm the one in the wrong. It seems that I am always the bitch, the one that changed, the one that's always in the wrong. Ever looked in the mirror lately?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not the first time. Time after time all I get from you and all those people. I get stabbed in the back and dumped. Why, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;why do you have to do this to me&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, say it. Admit it in my face. Tell me what you've been hiding all along. You know, you goddamned know that I would find out sooner or later, so why hide? Why hide what you want to tell me all along? &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Yet act like nothing is happening&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's all been a lie. All a fucking lie. I trust you, I'll always be there as a friend. Who were you &lt;u&gt;trying to kid&lt;/u&gt;? Apparently, not me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just stop, stop trying to hide it. Stop, stop trying to act like you care. I know, I know that you don't and it's the plain truth. You've got nothing to hide anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for you, I just don't see why I cared in the first place. I don't see why I tried so hard. I guess when you're backstabbed so many times, when people don't want to trust you yet you trust them, it's hard and you keep falling back in the same old position because you're not strong enough to believe that she wasn't a friend in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks a lot, for trying to be a 'friend'.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JIE. You're missed&lt;3. RACHEL, why aren't you online?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-9202745150692115040?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/9202745150692115040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=9202745150692115040' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/9202745150692115040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/9202745150692115040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/post-70-wasnt-expected-to-be-like-this.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-6964994343114365084</id><published>2008-02-19T17:40:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T17:47:55.294+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;YES&lt;/strong&gt;. Flag raising is officially &lt;strong&gt;NOT SOMETHING&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;I need to worry about anymore&lt;/em&gt;(: Congratulations Tianna! We're both the pros among the JLs now! Yay! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was alright. Apparently better. I can't see myself raise and everyone told me "good job" so I'm going to assume it was alright. Although I haven't heard from Mrs Tay or dear Ina so until then, I'm pretty pleased with myself, and relieved it's FINALLY over. NO MORE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except Molly said that I didn't raise it all the way up! I went to check it, it looked fine to me. /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear the before part of everything scares me. The kind of feeling where you know how it's going to turn out like so while you anticipate it you get too nervous and feel like puking. Yep, I felt exactly like it. But during the whole thing, it wasn't as bad as Monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That stage of my life is over... for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After this I really have to sleep. Long day tomorrow. Sigh. I shall make use of my computer time and take a nap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And whoever tagged on my blog using my name  saying: I hate _________, go die. I deleted the message already.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-6964994343114365084?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/6964994343114365084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=6964994343114365084' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/6964994343114365084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/6964994343114365084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/yes.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-1777914404161987835</id><published>2008-02-18T16:08:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T16:44:25.166+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Note to self: &lt;strong&gt;Never&lt;/strong&gt; go to bed with wet hair, &lt;strong&gt;never&lt;/strong&gt; shower before sleeping ever again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have something interesting to tell you today (: Let's start with how Tessa can get reaaally adgitated when she's nervous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't trying to make a big deal out of it, I was just really nervous I got adgitated /: I went to go disturb Rachel and then talked to Sarah who started to confuse me again with the whole song thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, now everyone who I asked to sing the national anthem knows that it repeats at the end. Yes, I admit, I didn't know that. So did a couple of people. Conversation would end up like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and Tianna: SING THE NATIONAL ANTHEM FOR US PLEAASE.&lt;br /&gt;Person A: Uh, why?&lt;br /&gt;Person B: HAHA YOU DON'T KNOW THE NATIONAL ANTHEM?!&lt;br /&gt;Me and Tianna: Kind of. Just hum it please!&lt;br /&gt;Person A: Huh...&lt;br /&gt;-Random conversation goes on with all the other people who I dragged along. One side is on the "yes it repeats at the end" side, one side is at the "I thought the school doesn't repeat the end" side.-&lt;br /&gt;Person B: *Starts to sing the first line of the anthem and stops* Eh shit, I forgot how to sing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HA. That's proof to you that majority of the P6s that I know didn't know that the song looped at the end!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, so Tianna and I, after clarifying it with two other people that the song DOES loop at the end, realise we were a tad bit late and so Tianna, Molly, Sarah (the k-poh yet good friend) and I went down to get the flags. Sarah and I stood outside (HEH :X) while Molly and Tianna got the flags.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went to TRY to fold the flags while random people start crowding around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously! I mean I know I was like screaming my head off and frantically like asking people to sing when Tianna lets out the beans telling them we are raising but do they HAVE to be so k-poh and come and look at me?! I don't even know them! Seriously. The only people who I knew that were there were Rachel, Clarissa, Audrina, Sharon, Fiona, Rachel C, Molly, Darolyn and Sarah! I know it's still quite a lot but they came and went off after wishing me good luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ina came with Esther (why am I not suprised), but only managed to bug Tianna because there was wild discussion going on at my end so it was too crowded for her to come and bug me (:. But basically, they were all laughing at me. Nice friends I have :X While wild discussion was going on, which I was not involved in, Rachel started saying something about Ina and we started talking about really random things. THANKS A MILLION RACHEL FOR STANDING THERE TILL THE TEACHERS CHASED YOU AWAY(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way Ina, Rachel thinks your pretty. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Rachel left, I stood there and prayed. I was really reaally nervous. The feeling was this: You know how I have a mega stage fright and I get nervous reaal easily. If I compare 'performing' during National Drill Com and during the Singapore song thing, it was 100 times worse than that. That was the ultimate. Worse than before oral, and during too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hands were shaking just when the whole primary school (this is to stress that tomorrow might be worse than today/: Since the whole school shall watch me raise horribly) quietened down and Darolyn and Bern got them to be at attention. Before that, I was shaking slightly but that was acceptable. Who wouldn't be nervous at their first go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right while I was anticipating for the song to play, my LEGS started shaking really badly and I felt a little faint. A little on the verge of seeing everything as black (yes this is how bad I can get when I'm nervous. Don't judge me). It was a hooorrible feeling. I was telling myself "STOP SHAKING BITCH" because I think it was rather obvious that I was tremmbling. (..trembling. What a word)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then when the song finally started playing, I went I little too slow. I was unsure whether I should start pulling, and when I started to try to pull it, my hands felt like they were going to drop off, like it has been at stationary for too long and when I finally try to pull on the ropes, I was too weak. /: AND THEN when I managed to get my hands moving, my arm was blocking the flag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I did manage to get it up. Though I believe Mrs Tay was right, I was a little too slow. Although everyone told me that I did it very well. Sandrea and Denise said "almost perfect". That I believe is over exaggeration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that, I guess it wasn't as bad as I anticipated. I expected the music to be booming in my face. I guess I was too nervous to think straight. All I could think of was getting the flag up and that was it. And not screwing up. I didn't exactly feel as if everyone was staring at me, even the people in the concourse (e.g Mrs Yap, Mrs Gossian, the gay guy that did the workout and the prefects)  because I refused to look away from the pole. So it was just the pole blocking my face, the SG flag, myself and my mind. I was practically talking to myself in my head to calm my nerves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're wondering how Tianna did, apparently she was too slow. /: I'll end there, even though there's more to that. Her version of the story is for her to tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully tomorrow would be better. Still, pray for rain.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I better start doing my work. I've got a load waiting for me. And no my mum wasn't the one who set the work for me to do, I did. So I should finish what I already planed to do today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-1777914404161987835?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/1777914404161987835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=1777914404161987835' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/1777914404161987835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/1777914404161987835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/note-to-self-never-go-to-bed-with-wet.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-3793112903708572764</id><published>2008-02-17T18:37:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T23:05:04.167+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Much edit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reading blogs has inspired me to post a proper blog post. I might have ghost visitors that I don't even know who read my blog. But what are the chances?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I shall try to post a normal post and start rambling and then end. You can choose to follow me and read through or you can click on the red cross that should be on the extreme right hand corner of this window. I mean, I guess &lt;s&gt;sometimes&lt;/s&gt; I am boring. Correction, most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, since I'm going to post I mine as well write something meaningful right?&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;Today I got up for church at 0930. I shouldn't have &lt;s&gt;purposefully&lt;/s&gt; slept late to &lt;s&gt;make Ina angry&lt;/s&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Okay Ina, if you're reading this, sometimes I know I'm being difficult. It's not because I don't want to listen to you, it's because sometimes it's just so fun to make you angry. I'll try to stop that nasty habit of mine :X I know it's for my own good! Because I'm sick, and not getting any better /: Please don't get mad. As in, really mad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have yet to get medicine from my mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to macs for a supposed 'outing' since our classroom was being renovated and turned into something hopefully nicer. The guys were playing around with the sauces and the drinks and they made some concotion out of everything. They tried to make Sarah drink it but, failed attempts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that we had lunch at some chicken rice place opposite Beauty World where we proceeded to vandalise the the table (It was covered in paper. I can't remember what the thing that covers the table is called :X) and wrote a lot of nonsense. Quite fun, I guess. It's been a while since the 'six of us' had lunch together. (Childhood friends :X)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went home, slacked. Proceeded to get scolded from Ina because of macs, did a little bit of work, played the new Xbox 360 (No, I'm not rich. I happen to have a father that loves gaming), had dinner and now I'm back safely home(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I suceeded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have yet to finish revising for the coming exam. I shall be online only after dinner. I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;will resist&lt;/span&gt; the temptation of going online.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, the computer isn't my biggest necesity. I don't need to go online. I don't really know what I do online actually. First I'll go to my blog to see how many pathatic tags I got, then I'll check my mail to see if anyone has reviewed my fanfiction (which I have yet to update and inform them that I'm still alive and &lt;s&gt;healthy&lt;/s&gt;), and then I'll check youtube to see if B20, Whatthebuck, Pogobat, Happyslip or Kevjumba have uploaded new videos and then I'll do a lot of random things like: Update, read blogs (random normal people, xiaxue and celeste chen on random occastions when I'm &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;really really&lt;/span&gt; bored) and go on Facebook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, the only reason why I yearn to go online is, I love to hear my keyboard click, to touch it is something too, and basicly, I'm an msn-addict.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because the people who I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;want&lt;/span&gt; to talk to are always online! The people whom I don't see everyday, aren't in my class and I seldom get to bully anymore! Like Rachel! (Who just signed out randomly leaving me alone)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realise how I'm neglecting the people I see everyday. I guess seeing them everyday is enough. I'm sorry to say that I actually do get sick of them /: And that I'm also not as close to them than the people I talk to online. Sigh. Strange isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you know the reason why I come online.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus I'm only eager on Tuedays cause I know B20 posts a video every Tueday now. (:&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's your long post! If you survived, good for you. No rewards at the end of the post I'm sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-3793112903708572764?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/3793112903708572764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=3793112903708572764' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/3793112903708572764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/3793112903708572764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/isnt-it-funny-ca1-is-coming-yet-im-not.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-2882239242222096850</id><published>2008-02-16T17:38:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-16T17:45:49.881+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>66th blog post, not that it is of any significance. I just did not realise how many posts I can write in 4 months. Woah. This is why I shouldn't blog that much/: It's not like anyone reads this.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, my daisy is the one in it's crucial dying state and my rose is still the same. What the hell happened? After I cleared the panadol water and added sugared water instead that happened. Sigh, looks like it's one or the other. I wonder how Sharon's 8 pink pretty dasies are doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm currently not enjoying where I am right now, where everyone forces you to speak but doesn't really give a shit about what happens to you anyway. Silence, is definately golden right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also realised that my grandmother loves to talk to herself o_o. And that my brother is going to get scolded soon for overuseage of vulgar language, I kind of have to be blamed (but 60% is Tim's fault, 10% is Sharon's cause she influenced me) since I sometimes say it too/: Ahwells.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've finished my homework, not that there's a lot anyway. Pray for me on Monday, and pray for rain on Tuesday please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've changed my blogskin(: Credits go to &lt;a href="http://our-redemption.blogspot.com"&gt;Jo&lt;/a&gt;. Check out her &lt;a href="http://www.blogskins.com/me/redemption1"&gt;other skins&lt;/a&gt; too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, I'm being nice. I decided to use this skin instead of the other one I liked and I'm advertising to the small audience that would see this. /: I need more friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-2882239242222096850?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/2882239242222096850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=2882239242222096850' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2882239242222096850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2882239242222096850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/66th-blog-post-not-that-it-is-of-any.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-5589233138520435036</id><published>2008-02-15T16:21:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T21:13:57.779+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;edit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taking Back Sunday = &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;Roses and Daisy/Sunflower &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I don't know what it is since everyone is telling me different things&lt;/span&gt; (even though they're dying) = &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;Rachel finally coming online to entertain me = &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, it's obvious I am really really really bored. That was probably the lamest sentence you're gonna see ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really tired too, I kind of want to go to bed/:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I want to talk to someone /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARGH. Sharon you're supposed to call me you bitch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my rose is still dying T-T.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;/edit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tessa's a happy girl:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="display: block;" id="formatbar_Buttons"&gt;&lt;span class="on" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_SpellCheck" title="Check Spelling" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);BLOG_spellcheck();;ButtonMouseDown(this);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, thank you Sharon, Ina, Chantal and Molly for the belated Valentine's Day presents. Even though some of them are pretty chocolates and having a sore throat I can't eat them &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;yet&lt;/span&gt;, the presents made my day:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Especially the flowers:D The two poor things are trying to live, especially the poor rose! I'm trying oh so hard to keep them alive. They're really pretty though! Tessa's loved:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to not related issues, I'm upset the cute nerdy guy's not in the top 24! ):&lt; &lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1Q33NrnvMqw&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1Q33NrnvMqw&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="200" width="300"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also they eliminated the single mum and the cowboy! D:&lt; And they accepted the GAY?! Wtf. The world is screwed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, my sore throat isn't improving): And I just finished my lollipoppop/:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall succeed in keeping the rose alive! I shall!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-5589233138520435036?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/5589233138520435036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=5589233138520435036' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5589233138520435036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5589233138520435036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/tessas-happy-girld-first-of-all-thank.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-8012137020620860998</id><published>2008-02-14T18:47:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T19:01:46.308+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay mummy. I swear, no more late nights or I'm REALLY going to get a fever. This girl is reaaally sick at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I had a fever for a while today. I was feeling so cold the whole day and my sore throat and flu got worse so I took a nap for 2 hours. I still feel quite sick. Also today during chapel, I decided to be daring and slept. I slept for a nice 40 minutes in the auditorium. It was rather uncomfortable but when you're tired I doubt you'll care. But what amazed me was that I woke up and everyone's head turned to look at me. Like they were really shocked to see me sleeping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know that these people, who are daring enough to do naughtier things than sleeping during chapel, are shocked to find me Sandrea and Jo asleep. Goodness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I forgot to bring my thermometer today so Sharon and I had to go buy that sleeve thingamajigy. And it was rather useless since Mrs Shah started screaming at Jilian and I because we were still taking our temperature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That woman needs anger management. Or she could always admit herself into IMH. I'm sure she'll qualify.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then dearest Tianna had to go for skipathon auditions or something along those lines so Molly and I were left to go practice on our own. And then came Mrs Tay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ronice didn't come and practice and all and so Mrs Tay wants me to do next week. (Not like anyone reads this shit so, I AM STILL SAFE).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOOO. I want to raise with TIANNA! D: Even if we have to do it next week! Argh. We are going to request that we are still stuck together in this shit! It's fun haivng Tianna as my flag raising buddy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope she'll allow us to do it together. And I hope she doesn't make me do twice just because she thinks I'm good. See me on the actual thing and she would like to beg to differ. I think I'll screw up. /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahwells. Life sucks for me. CA1 in two weeks!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-8012137020620860998?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/8012137020620860998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=8012137020620860998' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/8012137020620860998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/8012137020620860998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/okay-mummy.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-5413471898307918605</id><published>2008-02-13T19:06:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-13T19:23:04.053+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Tessa is basicly not a very cheerful kid today. Tessa is extremely tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday/Today-ish, her 3rd mother seriously called her up and instead of ensuring she's 'tucked in nicely in bed', they talked until 12:30am which is why Tessa is extremely tired today. She's full of regret. Not only that, Rachel was smsing her until 1am so untimately she slept at 1am and only had 4 hours of sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In school, Jo was pissed at her during music which made Tessa quite annoyed since her tiredness made her really grumpy. Especially since music was the first period so it's still quite early in the morning. After that we had science and maths which was awfully boring. Tessa was trying oh-so-hard to pay attention, let alone not fall asleep. She did succeed though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During recess due to an overload of chocolate food, Tessa almost puked /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Tessa had to write zuowen and she didn't even write a good one since after half an hour her mind had wandered else where and she and her friends decided to discuss about horrendous names.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And after school, because she was still sick from the overload of chocolate food, she and Sharon went to the library to use the computers and crap around (: The library person told Tessa and Sharon that all the computers were booked even though there were like 4 computers available. After much wandering around, Sharon discovered that the switch of the computers were not switched on. So they switched them on and turned on all the computers. Only to discover that the keyboard was not working. Tessa went to switch around the keyboards which made her really dirty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the really smart girl from 6.6 told Tessa and Sharon that if they shut down the whole computer system and turn it back on, the keyboards might work. They did so and it worked(: So the two crapped a lot until 140, where they went back and were extremely late cause their idiot of a classmate told them suplementry started at 140. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After suplementry, Tianna and Tessa decided to go and change for GB. Where Tessa discovered she stupidly didn't bring her belt and sash and ended up wearing mufti instead. Thank goodness no one scolded her(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GB wasn't as fun because they made everyone sit in their squads so Tessa couldn't join her dearest friends. She eneded up trying to control her ridiculously naughty juniors who are really annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To cut a long story short since Tessa's running out of time, as she has her bloody chinese tution, it was so tiring because Mrs Tay scolded all of us together and wanted to shift Tianna and Tessa's flag raising days to next week): Though Monica came to save their lives:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then they made the JLs go check the rooms which were super clean anyways. And then Tessa had to wait for her horrible senior and friends who decided to abandon her anyway, leaving her to miss a lot of buses and get onto the crowded ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tessa needs to go, Tessa will update after Chinese tution. Wish Tessa luck for she has not finished doing her Chinese homework. She apologises for any bad english mistakes, this was a very rushed update for her and she's not supposed to be online as always. She got caught again yesterday/:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tessa will see you soon(:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-5413471898307918605?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/5413471898307918605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=5413471898307918605' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5413471898307918605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5413471898307918605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/tessa-is-basicly-not-very-cheerful-kid.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-308938165771189014</id><published>2008-02-12T21:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-12T22:09:41.279+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today was not a good day, and neither will tomorrow be. I woke up with a slight headache, a dripping nose, puffy eyes and a sore throat. Everyone's catching the bug from my brother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My finger just got electrocuted, now it feels funny):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was having a bad hair day, my fringe was acting wierd and I realised how uneven it was after I cut it two days ago. Why do my hairdressing skills fail me now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway Sharon helped me do it so now it looks better. Thanks Sharon:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rachel and Clarissa have just instilled the fear of raising the flag to me. :X&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WORKLOAD 120208:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Cloze Passages 21-30&lt;br /&gt;-Nanyang Primary School English CA1 Paper&lt;br /&gt;-Science Notes (: - Primary 6 Chapter 1 (FINALLY.)&lt;br /&gt;-1/2 of my tution homework/:&lt;br /&gt;-One Maths Challenging Practice question&lt;br /&gt;-School English Homework&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;THINGS TO COMPLETE TOMORROW:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Tution homework &gt;&lt;&lt;br /&gt;-Ai Tong Primary School Maths CA1 Paper&lt;br /&gt;-Cloze Passages 31-40&lt;br /&gt;-Start on Science Notes - Primary 6 Chapter 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why the hell do I bore you with this, maybe because no one reads my blog T-T&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;I did work. And I think in a long time, this is concidered REALLY LITTLE. I should stop being a vainpot and stoner and concentrate ENTIRELY on my work. I'm a freak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm just so tired, I can't concentrate! Rawrrrr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahwells. Tomorrow I have School, Suplementry, GB and then Tution. And tomorrow is artsy fartsy day! We will all do weird bookmarks for people and I'm doing one for a guy! AWESOME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not that I don't want to do it, it's that I don't know how to do it. AND I DON'T HAVE ART SHIT ANYWAY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why I hate GB sometimes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have a weird feeling that we're going to get scolded tomorrow. If not us then poor Rachel and Clarissa. OHBOY. Then they'll make us practice and oh how I hate flag raising.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, my third mother's making me go to bed. Argh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm SICK! I shall go to school and spread my germs to everyone! :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-308938165771189014?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/308938165771189014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=308938165771189014' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/308938165771189014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/308938165771189014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/today-was-not-good-day-and-neither-will.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-5678898348887173276</id><published>2008-02-11T00:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T19:33:31.331+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Obviously I was so sleepy last night that I wrote I'm waiting for Jojo's fashion show to LEARN instead of LOAD. And yet I still played it until 2. SO FUN!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My third mother didn't call last night :X So I had a peaceful hour of fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANYWAY, I studied today okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall go download it now to play. Hopefully the mac would support one of the downloads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not supposed to be online though. :X&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-5678898348887173276?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/5678898348887173276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=5678898348887173276' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5678898348887173276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5678898348887173276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/im-waiting-for-jojos-fashion-show-to.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-6176136578568216497</id><published>2008-02-10T14:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:00:48.292+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>[edit]&lt;br /&gt;Talking to Nic online!(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R68Fr1Yh98I/AAAAAAAAANk/N8GpLX8RruA/s1600-h/panttyyy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R68Fr1Yh98I/AAAAAAAAANk/N8GpLX8RruA/s200/panttyyy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165353548239730626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;[/edit]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/PmdCOzB0olo&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/PmdCOzB0olo&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="200" width="300"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember this?! Sigh, I miss it! /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's slack day tomorrow! Which means ultimately no school!:D Tonight at 9:30pm we're going to have a webcam chat with Nic! Yay! (: I talked to her just now and she was doing finee(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R67ZrVYh97I/AAAAAAAAANc/P-lwYjBQopw/s1600-h/n648250337_2227759_2242.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R67ZrVYh97I/AAAAAAAAANc/P-lwYjBQopw/s200/n648250337_2227759_2242.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165305161138173874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm in kind of a good mood:D Credits go to Nic's friend Josephx) Our heads look conjoined o_o&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I downloaded Jojo's fashion show! HAHA! It's quite fun okay! I shall find other download-trial games to play. Text twist is fun too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Addicted to download games which stops my from studying. D: AHWELLS. What to do?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-6176136578568216497?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/6176136578568216497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=6176136578568216497' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/6176136578568216497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/6176136578568216497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/remember-this-sigh-i-miss-it-its-slack.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R68Fr1Yh98I/AAAAAAAAANk/N8GpLX8RruA/s72-c/panttyyy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6819780661942236823.post-2919740414096834100</id><published>2008-02-09T19:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T20:11:29.642+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Help me think of an excuse! Jo's mum is sick so I can't go over. Fudge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was hoping to just live that few hours and then go for lunch at Jo's so I spend like 90% of my time in Sunday School. But now I have to spend the whole day at my dads. Isn't that like just great? Ahwells.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really want to go. Correction:&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I never want to go over&lt;/span&gt;. Unless I'm getting like langsane. &gt;&lt; But I'm doubtful. Okay, I admit I'm being quite mean, but who in the world has been nice to me over there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone's just biased towards Rebecca and Darien so yeah. Me and Tim are shunned. Hahaha. Which is why we became best friends T-T. Lately he hasn't been the bestest friend telling her almost everything that I tell him. Brilliant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need an explanation quick! Like how I am sick and I don't want to go! Or something that is believable! /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahwells. I don't really have much of a choice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-2919740414096834100?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/2919740414096834100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=2919740414096834100' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2919740414096834100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2919740414096834100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/help-me-think-of-excuse-jos-mum-is-sick.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-7669738479779129083</id><published>2008-02-09T01:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T01:57:55.868+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Nic just left for St. Gallen's today. I wonder how it'll be like to have someone close to you leave and be so far away. I'm sure I'll miss her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least right now I get to experience how it's like to have someone so far away, out of reach and difficult to contact. At least switzerland isn't so bad. It's only 7? 7 hours behind SG.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing bad it, I need to learn how to use Skype for MSN is totally &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; the best way of communicating online. When Ina was in Paris and I tried to talk to her my MSN was glitching like no one's buisness. This shows that MSN needs to improve on their overseas communicating system. Whatever it's called &gt;&lt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This shows how stupid I am eh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realised that I really got to start mugging. I know according to Lorraine, who may I remind you got 262 for PSLE two years back and was offered a scholarship to MG if I'm not wrong, believes that stuying now is useless. She studied two months before. I myself think, she's talking ultimate bullshit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't rush. Look at how much I got for Science last year. Now you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should like mug so hard I am really a genius and get top in SG. That is like my ulitmate dream x). Though I know I'm talking bullshit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, Rachel dropped by today and made a guest appearance. Haha. Random information.&lt;br /&gt;Also I'm getting my new specs done tomorow. Look forward to laughing at me. Hee.&lt;br /&gt;My compensator is coming back from Malaysia tomorrow. Yay, more gossiping and complaining. I think she hates me &gt;&lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need someone else to relate to. Okay, I do have people to relate to but it's not as great as her. Ahwells. Rachel is like distancing herself from me D: Thanks alot bitch): And my family-ish compensator is making her way to St. Gallens. This is why my life sucks to the core.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I downloaded the whole Tell All Your Friends album online. Shh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No quiz for today. This girl is a tired girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things I need to get done real soon:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I need a new haircut. Get rid of the annoying layerings and make the length of my hair shorter. My fringe will not be touched! I am the only one who cuts my fringe &gt;:D&lt;br /&gt;-Mugging season should start soon. By soon I mean tomorrow. So by tomorrow you should see my work list appearing whenever I update(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have fun in St. Gallens Nic Jie, if you ever come across with this. I'll demo flag raising for you online yeah(:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-7669738479779129083?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/7669738479779129083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=7669738479779129083' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7669738479779129083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7669738479779129083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/nic-just-left-for-st.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-1258053680840130031</id><published>2008-02-08T01:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:00:48.496+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;{edit}&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for that. I decided to remove it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I don't take back what I said.&lt;br /&gt;[/edit]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're a touch overrated&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm obviously still in love with that song (:&lt;object height="80" width="300"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://media.imeem.com/m/tbpiCzzQx6/aus=false/"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://media.imeem.com/m/tbpiCzzQx6/aus=false/" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="80" width="300"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a hell load of a Chinese New Year. By far this is the craziest I've experienced. And there's more tomorrow. /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I slept at 11:30pm last night, I woke up at 9am and went visiting. We went to four houses this year. First was that condo in Eunos with the MRT view that gets my cousins really excited when the MRT comes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that we went to the one with the swing and the one that is usually very crowded. But this year we were the only people at the house so we stayed there for pretty long. My cousins were bugging me to sit on the swings with me /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next was the house where we usually eat lunch and stuff. Borang. All I did was camwhored with my cousins. It was their idea to keep taking pictures of me and some random things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly we went to the house where the huge dog was. We didn't see it today though /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, so that was it for my dad's side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mum's side was crazy man. We left the house at 9pm plus to go to their gong's house. We met up with the cousins then we walked to their relatives house. I was reaally extra cause when they saw me they're like "who is this?". It's like I intruded their home to grab hongbao. D:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went back to their gong's house and did random stuff, went to get prata which took freaking long and I'm finally back at 1:44am. Gosh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we're seeing them for lunch tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just made you read how boring today was. Yay. I was making an effort to tell you my whereabouts and happenings instead of sumarise them and make you read my ridiculous quizes :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pictures shall be up tomorrow since I can force Lorraine to camwhore with me. Muhaha (: Godsister love will be shared tomorrow:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R6tFnTx3YII/AAAAAAAAANU/e5lDJe8SllQ/s1600-h/Image062.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R6tFnTx3YII/AAAAAAAAANU/e5lDJe8SllQ/s200/Image062.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164297939337044098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Just wait, I'll come back for you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-1258053680840130031?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/1258053680840130031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=1258053680840130031' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/1258053680840130031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/1258053680840130031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/youre-touch-overrated-im-obviously.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R6tFnTx3YII/AAAAAAAAANU/e5lDJe8SllQ/s72-c/Image062.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6819780661942236823.post-6654535403484976927</id><published>2008-02-07T09:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T19:32:12.475+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Taking Back Sunday - You're So Last Summer &lt;3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said "Don't, don't let it go to your head&lt;br /&gt;Boys like you are dime a dozen&lt;br /&gt;Boys like you are dime a dozen"&lt;br /&gt;She said&lt;br /&gt;"You're a touch overrated,&lt;br /&gt;You're a lush and I hate it,&lt;br /&gt;But these grass stains on my knees&lt;br /&gt;They won't mean a thing"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And all I (all I)&lt;br /&gt;Need to know (need to know)&lt;br /&gt;Is that I'm something you'll be missing&lt;br /&gt;(is that I'm something that you're missing)&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should hate you for this&lt;br /&gt;Never really did ever quite get that far&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should hate you for this&lt;br /&gt;Never really did ever quite get that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd never lie to you&lt;br /&gt;Unless I had to I'll do what I got to&lt;br /&gt;Unless I had to I'll do what I got to, the truth&lt;br /&gt;Is you could slit my throat&lt;br /&gt;And with my one last gasping breath&lt;br /&gt;I'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And all I (all I)&lt;br /&gt;Need to know (need to know)&lt;br /&gt;Is that I'm something you'll be missing&lt;br /&gt;(is that I'm something that you're missing)&lt;br /&gt;(maybe I should hate for this)&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should hate you for this&lt;br /&gt;Never really did ever quite get that far&lt;br /&gt;(maybe I should hate for this)&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should hate you for this&lt;br /&gt;Never really did ever quite get that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cause I'm a wishful thinker with the worst intentions&lt;br /&gt;This'll be the last chance you get to drop my name&lt;br /&gt;Cause I'm a wishful thinker with the worst intentions&lt;br /&gt;This'll be the last chance you get to drop my name&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I'm just bad news, then you're a liar (Maybe I should...)&lt;br /&gt;If I'm just bad news, then you're a liar (...hate you for this)&lt;br /&gt;If I'm just bad news, then you're a liar (Maybe I should...)&lt;br /&gt;If I'm just bad news, then you're a liar (...hate you for this)&lt;br /&gt;If I'm just bad news, then you're a liar (Maybe I should...)&lt;br /&gt;If I'm just bad news, then you're a liar (...hate you for this)&lt;br /&gt;If I'm just bad news, then you're a liar (Maybe I should...)&lt;br /&gt;If I'm just bad news, then you're a liar (...hate you for this)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should hate you for this&lt;br /&gt;(If only you knew half as much as you pretend to)&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should hate you for this&lt;br /&gt;(If only you knew half as much as you pretend to)&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Stop trying to pretend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just should stop trying. I mean, when I try to be nice then I get some shit thrown at me. It's unbelievable. Right now, I'm just going back to hating and defaming her. I'm quite sure she defames me by telling her lian friends but whatever. I don't really want to be friends with lians anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I hypnotize people to be my friend. Jo, Ina, Sharon, Fiona, Rachel Lee Loh and Cheng, Berenice, Molly, lw and all the other people who are my friends, how did I hypno you ah? I'm quite sure I didn't break into your house to like tell you "Jo, be my friend or die."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How dumb, stupid and naive is she. And they say that we primary school kids are dumb, geez, look at her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please, I don't mind going to a different church and have different churchies and friends and what nots. It's not difficult, the only thing stopping me is your mother and my father. If they broke up, my life would be a bliss, especially without you. Show this to your mum for all I care. It's my blog, I can write whatever I want. Spam me? Go ahead. There's something called block user. I can block all your other lian/beng friends too. Who think "pffft" is a farting noise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evidence that secone lians/bengs aren't much better off than psixes like me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And how the hell do I steal your friend when you gave him my email. Plus you want me to go to youth and you don't want this to happen. Stupid =="&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually I'm gonna end up there so get ready, I'm going to hypnotize the whole youth to be my friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's my reply to you bitch! If you find my blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you going to make your bf beat me up? HAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Marcus deardear, go beat up my step sister! Or I break with you horhor." I'm so full of this xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can be a lian. Watch me:D&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;I'm really amused with the whole "hypnotize" thing. I don't hypnotize people, I'm just nice, or at least my friends think so. I feel like quoting people but nah, it's pointless. The fact that I have awesome friends like you all (who bother to read this) is good enough (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahwell. I'm going to Jo's on Sunday (: Rachel's coming too:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quiz for the day!:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Measure Your Fears - Would You, Wouldn't You, You Did&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pet a snake &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Spend a week in an empty room&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ride in a hot-air balloon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sky dive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sing in front of a huge audience &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Scuba dive &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sit in the front seat of a roller coaster &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would NEVER (Some of you should know why.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Deliver a baby&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Swim across the Amazon River&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Change careers &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Disappear for a long period of time &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Walk through the forest alone at night &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Join a space mission&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tell everyone what you honestly think of them &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Call off your wedding&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Walk naked through New York City for 10 minutes during rush hour &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Walk up to Mike Tyson and call him a girl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Disarm a bomb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Clean the outside windows of a skyscraper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Draw a mustache on the Mona Lisa with a permanent marker &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Go on tour with Elvis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Go swimming during a thunder storm &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Preform surgury on your best friend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/S5613/Measure_Your_Fears_-_Would_You,_Wouldn%27t_You,_You_Did.html" title="Measure Your Fears - Would You, Wouldn't You, You Did"&gt;Take this survey&lt;/a&gt; | &lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/surveys" title="Bzoink Surveys"&gt;Find more surveys&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/" title="Bzoink"&gt;Bzoink&lt;/a&gt; - The Original Survey Site&lt;img style="visibility: hidden; width: 0px; height: 0px;" src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/CIMP/Jmx*PTEyMDIzODM2NzQ*NDImcHQ9MTIwMjM4MzY3ODcyNyZwPTg5MjExJmQ9Jm49.jpg" border="0" height="0" width="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-6654535403484976927?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/6654535403484976927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=6654535403484976927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/6654535403484976927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/6654535403484976927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/taking-back-sunday-youre-so-last-summer.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-5181831890355728483</id><published>2008-02-06T16:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:00:48.620+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I remembered that last year there was a rumour going on that I was les. Screw the people who said that. This is evidence I'm not les:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adam Lazzara is so freaking cute &lt;3&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R6nEEjx3YGI/AAAAAAAAANE/y97BWmrmRgM/s1600-h/Untitled.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R6nEEjx3YGI/AAAAAAAAANE/y97BWmrmRgM/s200/Untitled.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163874030359896162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;*SWOOONS*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lead singer of TBS. :D I love this song &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;Taking Back Sunday - Cute Without The E (Cut From The Team)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                           Your lipstick, his collar, don't bother Angel&lt;br /&gt;I know exactly what goes on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When everything you'll get is&lt;br /&gt;everything that you've wanted, princess&lt;br /&gt;(Well which would you prefer)&lt;br /&gt;My finger on the trigger, or&lt;br /&gt;(me face down, down across your floor)&lt;br /&gt;Me face down, down across your floor&lt;br /&gt;(Me face down, down across your floor)&lt;br /&gt;Well just so long as this thing's loaded&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And will you tell all your friends&lt;br /&gt;you've got your gun to my head&lt;br /&gt;This all was only wishful thinking,&lt;br /&gt;this all was only wishful thinking&lt;br /&gt;And will you tell all your friends&lt;br /&gt;you've got your gun to my head&lt;br /&gt;This all was only wishful thinking,&lt;br /&gt;this all was only wishful thinking&lt;br /&gt;Let's go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't bother trying to explain Angel&lt;br /&gt;I know exactly what goes on when you're on and&lt;br /&gt;How about I'm outside of your window&lt;br /&gt;(How about I'm outside of your window)&lt;br /&gt;Watching him keep the details covered&lt;br /&gt;You're such a sucker (You're such a sucker)&lt;br /&gt;for a sweet talker, yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And will you tell all your friends&lt;br /&gt;you've got your gun to my head&lt;br /&gt;This all was only wishful thinking,&lt;br /&gt;this all was only wishful thinking&lt;br /&gt;(The only thing that I regret is that I, I never let you hold me back)&lt;br /&gt;And will you tell all your friends&lt;br /&gt;you've got your gun to my head&lt;br /&gt;This all was only wishful thinking,&lt;br /&gt;this all was only wishful thinking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoping for the best just hoping nothing happens&lt;br /&gt;A thousand clever lines unread on clever napkins&lt;br /&gt;I will never ask if you don't ever tell me&lt;br /&gt;I know you well enough to know you never loved me&lt;br /&gt;(Why can't I feel anything From anyone other than you?)&lt;br /&gt;Hoping for the best just hoping nothing happens&lt;br /&gt;A thousand clever lines unread on clever napkins&lt;br /&gt;I will never ask if you don't ever tell me&lt;br /&gt;I know you well enough to know you never loved me&lt;br /&gt;(Why can't I feel anything From anyone other than you?)&lt;br /&gt;Hoping for the best just hoping nothing happens&lt;br /&gt;A thousand clever lines unread on clever napkins&lt;br /&gt;I will never ask if you don't ever tell me&lt;br /&gt;I know you well enough to know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And all of this was all your fault&lt;br /&gt;And all of this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I stay jealous)&lt;br /&gt;I stay wrecked and jealous for this,&lt;br /&gt;For this simple reason&lt;br /&gt;I just need to keep you in mind&lt;br /&gt;As something larger than life&lt;br /&gt;(She'll destroy us all before she's through&lt;br /&gt;And find a way to blame somebody else)&lt;br /&gt;I stay wrecked and jealous for this,&lt;br /&gt;For this simple reason&lt;br /&gt;I just need to keep you in mind&lt;br /&gt;As something larger than life&lt;br /&gt;(She'll destroy us all before she's through&lt;br /&gt;And find a way to blame somebody else)&lt;br /&gt;I stay wrecked and jealous for this,&lt;br /&gt;For this simple reason&lt;br /&gt;I just need to keep you in mind&lt;br /&gt;As something larger than life!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-5181831890355728483?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/5181831890355728483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=5181831890355728483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5181831890355728483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5181831890355728483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-remembered-that-last-year-there-was.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R6nEEjx3YGI/AAAAAAAAANE/y97BWmrmRgM/s72-c/Untitled.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6819780661942236823.post-5289576575769499956</id><published>2008-02-06T13:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T09:11:06.052+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quizes:D'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Happy CNY to everyone (: Have fun collecting money and falling sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, enjoy your break on Monday :D Slack day&lt;3      The people who ponned school are so smart. I actually thought we'll get homework for the weekend today so I thought maybe I won't pon tang. I'm so freaking smart man /:    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the most boring concert I've ever been to in my life of 11 years. The P2 girls were practically screaming and shrieking into the mic and everyone was nearly deaf after the whole thing. A wasted 4 hours, what a pity. Mugging could have been done within that period of time. Or sleeping, sleep is really what I need now.     &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid Ina convinced me that I'm being a good girl going. Wasted timeD: Going home was a big fat issue cause it was so freaking crowded in the bus.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time is precious! Even if it is used up to sleep instead of watch P2s prance around in slutty costumes!     &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gah. I can't wait to sleep peacefully in my awesome bed. I would love to take a napp:D    &lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Your last thought?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Shit."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Something you thought you'd never do, but did? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be friends with someone like Sharon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Are you your true self to everyone? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Family or friends and why? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friends, because they're love &lt;3 style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Drink to get drunk or drink just to socialise?&lt;br /&gt;Drink to just socialise?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Have you done drugs, if so what and was it worth it? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No I have not and I don't plan to ever do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Can people trust you? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, but it depends if they want to too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;If someone told you they loved you and you didn't love them back, would you lie? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't lie, it'll just break the person's heart even more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Do your friends' feelings matter more than your own? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, apparently most of the time. I'm such a softie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Do you spend too much time on your appearance? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No I don't. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;If..&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Your house was burning down, what ONE item would you save? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lappy dearest :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You were to be stuck on a deserted island, what THREE items would you bring? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lappy, the charger and my books. If I plan to die there in about a week due to starvation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You were to live elsewhere, what country would it be? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Japan, UK or US.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You could either travel to space or be president/prime minister - which?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Travel to space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You could be a musican or an actor, which would you be? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You could choose one actor to depict you in a movie, who would it be? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is tough. Ellen Pompeo or Blake Lively :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You could appear in a TV show, what show would it be?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be in Heroes and be married to Peter! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A broadway musical was going to be made about you, what would it be called? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why the hell did Tessa live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Three...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most possessed items?&lt;br /&gt;Lappy, iPod and phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things you take everywhere with you?&lt;br /&gt;iPod, phone and books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Items you wish to own?&lt;br /&gt;I wish to own a library full of books I'll read :D or a nicer lappy. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Celebrities you wish to meet?&lt;br /&gt;The whole cast of GG, Heroes and Grey's (new and old cast members) and Ellen DeGen, the&lt;br /&gt;people of BLG, Cute Is What We Aim For and TC5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Favourite sportsmen/women?&lt;br /&gt;Meiyou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most influential people to you?&lt;br /&gt;Sharon and Ina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Songs on rotation at the moment?&lt;br /&gt;Playing right now? Or stuck in my head /: Flipside and Happy Birthday by TC5 respectively.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things you want to accomplish this year?&lt;br /&gt;Get 269 for PSLE. I dreamt I got it so that's why the odd number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things that absolutely fascinate you?&lt;br /&gt;A lot of things facinate me x)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People you would do anything for?&lt;br /&gt;Ina. Not that I'm not already her labourer, Lorraine, Jo and Rachel Loh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Other.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What do you think is the most overrated fad that is happening right now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know :S Cheeeem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What do you think of all the celebs going into rehab, moreso lately? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They all are just screwed up asses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Do you follow fashion trends? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Would you rather spend your day at a beach or frolicking through a rainforest? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frolicking through a rainforest sounds enchanting xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What countries have you traveled to?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't really remember :S&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Do you prefer your own independent space, or to spend time with friends?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spend time with friends &lt;3 style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Do you prefer your childhood, or your life now?&lt;br /&gt;Life right now is so much better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What do you do on stormy days/nights? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read/MSN&lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What's something you never told someone, that you wish you had?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What is...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The first thing people say about you? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know, it's along the lines of "You have divorced parents?" or "Your sirname is Oh? HAHAHA"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;One story people always tell about you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pssst. That girl has divorced parents and is an airhead!" I don't know. That's my prediction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The most embarrassing thing you've ever done and/or said?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO MANY. Don't ask &gt;&lt;  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The place you grew up like? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eh. I lived in many places.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;One thing you wish you could take back?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Your dream house like? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beyond your wildest imagination :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The nicest compliment you've ever had said to you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're pretty? LOL how bimbo. NO NO. You're smart :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The best distraction in life? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Something you just find totally awkward? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Embarassing yourself in front of a thousand people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The most overrated thing/person/anything? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is overrated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Do you...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Adapt to different people's personalities well? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Think differently of people who take/do drugs? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Like having attention spotlighted on you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Go out of your way to help people you aren't so close with? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Want to have fame or fortune more? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Think religion is all that it's made up to be?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eh. Cheemness is killing me x(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;From last year to now...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This time last year, has a lot changed?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YEAH. I remember how much more stressed and tired I was due to stupid drill com today last year. Due to coughinacough making me coughdostupidthingscough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Have u broken up, embarked on a relationship, or is your status the same? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Same status. Single and not planning to date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Do you think you're a different person? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I think I am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Have your goals and ambitions changed? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slightly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Have you lost many friends? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is 3 counted a lot. No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/S141151/DECENCY_and_THOUGHT..html" title="DECENCY and THOUGHT."&gt;Take this survey&lt;/a&gt; | &lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/surveys" title="Bzoink Surveys"&gt;Find more surveys&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/" title="Bzoink"&gt;Bzoink&lt;/a&gt; - The Original Survey Site&lt;img style="visibility: hidden; width: 0px; height: 0px;" src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/CIMP/Jmx*PTEyMDIyNzQ2NjIxNTUmcHQ9MTIwMjI3OTExMzI5OSZwPTg5MjExJmQ9Jm49.jpg" border="0" height="0" width="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-5289576575769499956?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/5289576575769499956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=5289576575769499956' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5289576575769499956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5289576575769499956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/happy-cny-to-everyone-have-fun.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-1266896627323615060</id><published>2008-02-05T15:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T22:23:00.137+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Congrats to lw in becoming our primary school head prefect! And being tramautized by the dozens of people who are calling her that! Haha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not like she would be reading this anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And. LUCKY BERENICE WHO DIDN'T NEED TO RAISE THE FLAG TODAY BECAUSE OF THE FAKE-WET WEATHER THAT THEY THOUGHT WAS COMING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have the indecision to buy a flower for Miss Dai's birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's quiz&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Full Name &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Jia Yi Tessa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Birthday &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;080496&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Birthplace &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Singapore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Eye Color &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hair Color&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Black&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Height&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;151cm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Weight &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38kg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Right handed or Left handed?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Left handed (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Your Heritage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shit, I can't remember what that means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Worst Habit &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's for me to know and you to find out :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Zodiac Sign&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Shoe Size &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I have extrememly annoying small feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pants Size &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Innie or Outie? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Parents Still Together? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Shoes You Wore Today &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Your Weakness &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a procrastinator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Your Fears &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fear a lot of things. Losing the people I love and not getting back to MG are one of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Your Perfect Pizza &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hawaiian?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Goal You Would Like To Achieve This Year &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get 269 for PSLE. I can finally answer this question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Your Most Overused Phrase On An Instant Messenger&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh. Haha?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Thoughts First Waking Up &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shit I want to go back to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Your Best Physical Feature&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Your Bedtime &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10:30 pm earliest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Your Most Missed Memory &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2007. Everything about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 2&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite color?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;All the shades of purple&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Food?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pasta and Sashimi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sport?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Running, if that's counted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Animal?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pebbles!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ice Cream?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHOCOLATE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Candy?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Melted sugaar:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Store?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't know/:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Salad Dressing? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Actor?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't decide! Penn, Milo or Patrick?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Song?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Currently it's either With Me by Sum 41, Cute Without The E by Taking Back Sunday or Teasing to Please by Cute Is What We Aim For.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Letter? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T! FOR TESSA:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Number?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24&lt;3 style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Gum?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That thing I can't remember it's name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Holiday?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SHANGHAI WAS FREAKING AWESOME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Season? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Autum. I don't know why /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Toothpaste Flavor?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Strawberry?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Radio Station? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;98.7 FM. I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Perfume?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm allergic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Scent besides perfume? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Body part on the opposite sex?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No comment.  &lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Part 3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either a pediatrician or a surgeon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How Do You Want To Die? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Turn ons?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Turn offs &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know either... Lians and Bengs?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Which One Of Your Friends Acts The Most Like You?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know. :X&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who's The Loudest?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sofi?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who Makes You Laugh The Most? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sharon:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who Have You Known The Longest? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lorraine&lt;3 style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who's The Shyist? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Denise!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;When Have You Cried The Most?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cry a lot so don't ask me this question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What Is The Best Feeling In The World?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm quite sure it's getting my achieved score for PSLE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Worst Feeling?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;___ leaving? Or failing PSLE/not making it back?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Where Do You Want To Live When You Grow Up?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kind of want to migrate somewhere not in Singapore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;If You Could Change One Thing About You What Would It Be?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How dumb I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How Long Do You Think You'll Live?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I'll live for very long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 4:FINISH EACH SENTENCE&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Let's walk on the:&lt;/span&gt; road together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Let's look at the:&lt;/span&gt; sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What a nice:&lt;/span&gt; day it is today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Where did all the:&lt;/span&gt; children go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Why can't we:&lt;/span&gt; just stay for a little while more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Silly, little:&lt;/span&gt; pig.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Isn't it weird that:&lt;/span&gt; we're actually friends?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Never under any circumstance: &lt;/span&gt;did I think you were a bitch (I don't know why. It was the first thing that popped in my mind. That's how I'm answering all these questions)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I wish:&lt;/span&gt; I could die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Everyone has a:&lt;/span&gt; heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I am:&lt;/span&gt; Tessa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 5: Have you ever&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Been In Love?&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Been To Juvie? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't even know what/where that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mooned Someone?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Been Rejected? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ran Away From Home?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pictured Your Crush Naked?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:O&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Skipped School? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Thought About Suicide?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Slept Outside? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Laughed So Hard You Cried?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHA. No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Cried In School? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Thrown Up In School?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Wanted To Be a Model? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO. Bimbo alert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Cheated On Someone?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Done Something Really Stupid That You Still Laugh At Today? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, countless things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Seen A Dead Body?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Been Bitched Out?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No? I don't think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Drank Alcohol? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Smoked?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Been On Drugs?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Eaten Sushi? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YES:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Been On Stage?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. D:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Gone Skinny Dipping?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Shoplifted?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Been Drunk?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Been Called A Tease?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Been Beaten Up?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 6: Do you?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Swear?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah... I do...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sing Well &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Shower Daily&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Duh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Want To Go To College?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Want To Get Married? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Believe In Yourself?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Get Motion Sickness? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Think You Are Attractive? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Get Along With Your Parents? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Like Thunderstorms?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Play An Instrument? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two in fact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Own An iPod?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pray? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Go To Church? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sleep With Stuffed Animals?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Keep A Journal/Diary? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dance In The Rain?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sing In The Shower? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 7&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pepsi or Coke?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COKE:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;McDonald's or Burger King?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MACS(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Single or Group Dates?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Single?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Chocolate or Vanilla?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHOCO:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Strawberries or Blueberries? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Strawberries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Meat or Veggies?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TV or Movie? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TV&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Guitar or Drums?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drums(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Adidas or Nike? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Chinese or Mexican? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chinese?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Cheerios or Corn Flakes? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Corn flakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Cake or Pie?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pie?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;MTV or VH1? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Blind or Deaf?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Boxers or Briefs? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boxers HAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 8: Can you?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do The Splits? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Write With Both Hands? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Whistle?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Blow A Bubble?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Roll Your Tongue In A Circle? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mhm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Cross Your Eyes? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, with the help of my fingers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Walk With Your Toes Curled?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I can&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Touch Your Tongue to Your Nose?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dance? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Eat Whatever You Want And Not Worry?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 9: Who was the last person&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You Touched&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sharon?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You Talked To On The Phone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You Instant Messaged &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ina&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You Hugged &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rachel Lee. It was a random hug. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You Yelled At &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't remember&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You Played A Sport With&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Part 10: When was the last time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Time You Laughed?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Time You Cried? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not too long ago. Like on Sat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Movie You Watched? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Half of V for Vendetta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Flavor Of Gum You Chewed?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grape&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Joke You Told?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Song You've Sung? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your Guardian Angel by the Red Jumpsuit Apparatus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;RIGHT AT THIS MOMENT&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Where Are You?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my bed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What Can You See Out Your Window? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trees&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Are You Listening To Music?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What Are You Wearing? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sch uni.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What's On Your Mousepad? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Part 11&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you believe there is life on other planets? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you believe in miracles?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Magic?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Love at first sight? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;God?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Satan? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eh. Believe theres a satan that sucks? Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ghosts?&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Santa?&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evolution?&lt;br /&gt;Yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 12: In a guy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Fav Eye Color&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Fav Hair Color&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Blondish brown.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah I kind of like angmos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Short or Long Hair&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Short.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Height&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tallish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Weight &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not obessed/overweight/fat?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Best Clothing Style &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What he wants to wear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 13&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What Country Would You Most Like To Visit?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JAPAN!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Number Of CD's I Own&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6-8.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Your Good Luck Charm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really have one. God?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How many pillows do you sleep with?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you drink milk?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Person(s) You Hate Most&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Bitches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Most Outdated Phrase&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you think God has a gender? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to think he was male.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Where do you think we go when we die?: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heaven is a wonderful place(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How many rings until you answer the phone?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What is something scientists need to invent? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A time machine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Are you a health freak?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Are you a virgin? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;If you could travel into space, where would you go?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll go to mars?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What is the worst weather? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very stormy or vey sunny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Did you play with Barbies as a child? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How many grades have you failed? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My chinese spelling? That's not really answering the question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/S66777/A_200_Question_Fun_Survey_4_Myspace_%28All_The_Bzoink_Surveys_Put_Together%29.html" title="A 200 Question Fun Survey 4 Myspace (All The Bzoink Surveys Put Together)"&gt;Take this survey&lt;/a&gt; | &lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/surveys" title="Bzoink Surveys"&gt;Find more surveys&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/" title="Bzoink"&gt;Bzoink&lt;/a&gt; - The Original Survey Site&lt;img style="visibility: hidden; width: 0px; height: 0px;" src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/CIMP/Jmx*PTEyMDIyMDYxMjA4NjkmcHQ9MTIwMjIwNjE*MDE1MSZwPTg5MjExJmQ9Jm49.jpg" border="0" height="0" width="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-1266896627323615060?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/1266896627323615060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=1266896627323615060' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/1266896627323615060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/1266896627323615060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/congrats-to-lw-in-becoming-our-primary.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-5117689765032825</id><published>2008-02-04T17:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T18:24:37.299+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quizes:D'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Tianna is so weeeeird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sharon is so wild.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Berenice is quite an awesome flag-raiser(: Good job girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm officially broke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really hate homework.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found out disturbing secrets about my step siblings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fell in love with quizes(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The workout today was lame. Really lame. So lame that even lame is lame to describe it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tag Replies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jo&lt;/span&gt;: HEEH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ina&lt;/span&gt;: Eh? Why are you as anonymous? Thanks. I hope I'll do well :S&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What color is your bedspread?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;White. I'm such a boring person. It was polka dotted last week!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pick up the nearest book to you,turn to page 25 &amp;amp; read the first sentence. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Magnetic materials are attracted to magnets. HAHAHA. I'm studying, go away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How many candles are in the room you are in?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zero, how unromantic :X I actually love candles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What was your first word when you were a baby?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'I have no idea'. I'm so intellectual. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How old were you in 1996?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WAS BORN. HAHAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How old will you be in 2016?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give me a second... 12 + 8 = 20. I'll be 20 :O&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How long until your birthday?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 months 4 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How many siblings do you have?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Shocking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Are they older or younger than you? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 are older&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Are your grandparents still alive?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How many orange objects are there in the room you are in?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 orange things:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Have you ever run a stoplight?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't drive stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you have any children?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I'm using it right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How was your first kiss?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why should you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Have you completed high school yet? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you have any relatives in the military currently? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who got married at the last wedding you went to?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother. That sounded SO WRONG.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What time did you get up today? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5:45 AM :S&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;When was the last time you stayed up all night? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like, last year while watching B20.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How long have you had a myspace, facebook, or whatever you use? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have used facebook for a few months, Friendster for almost a year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who was the last person of the opposite sex you hung out with? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother. :X&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Person of the same sex?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tianna?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What color are your eyes?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you like them?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, but I kind of want them green (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Have you ever had braces? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Turn on your mp3, cd player, radio, etc.  What song is playing?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With Me by Sum 41 :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What was the last thing you drank?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honey Water:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Are you better at math or art?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maths. /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Science or History? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Science! Since I don't even take History.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who was your 4th grade teacher?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just going to assume you mean primary four, my form teacher was Miss Carol Koh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who was your best friend in 7th grade? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not in Sec One. HAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Where did you go to pre-school, if you went at all?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YCK Chapel and TMC Kindergarten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who was the last person to call you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sharon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Did you smile in your driver's license picture?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't DRIVE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you have a job?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I'm a half-time student, full-time slacker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What is your favorite smell?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know. I'm allergic to perfume.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What's your favorite brand of gum?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't remember what it's called&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Have you ever dated someone &amp;amp; then dated their sibling?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who the hell does that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who was your crush in 5th grade?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had no crush. Muhaha. &gt;:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who was your first bf/gf?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Myself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What color is the shirt you are wearing?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;White.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What do you think of the 1980's?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't alive, that's for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever dated someone more than 2 years older than you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never dated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How about 2 years younger?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Refer to above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What brand of shampoo do you use?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Panteen. Is that how it's spelt?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How long is your hair? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really long now, it annoys me.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;If you could change one thing about yourself physically, what would it be?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Is there a box of tissues in the room  you are in right now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What time is it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5:39PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Is their anything living (plant, animal, etc) in your room right now? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What color are the walls in your kitchen?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yellowish peach I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Have you ever had a car accident?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you have any major plans for today?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going out to shopshop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What kind of deoderant do you use?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't use deoderant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What color is your toothbrush?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Green.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you own a digital camera?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How old is the cellphone you have right now? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few months old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What are your initials, using the last letter of each of your names?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AH...Wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you know anyone named Tyler? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How about Reese? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Diana? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Shelby? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Have you ever kissed someone who's name started with "C"?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How about "L"?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"E"? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"B"? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Are both your parents still living?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, all four of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What was the last thing you cooked?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How many times have you moved in your life? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tough question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you live within 20 miles of your birthplace?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Can you do a handstand? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Is it after 11am? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What day is it? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What's the longest time you've ever spent on the phone? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8 hours. When I was 8. HAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many pairs of brown shoes do you own?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Zero I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Are you on any prescribed medications?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What was the date 2 weeks ago from today?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21 January 2008&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;If you aren't already married, do you expect to be married within 5 years? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh, no? I'll be like 17.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How about 2 years?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Worse, I'll be 14.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How many funerals have you been to in your lifetime?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Have you ever been far away from home on your birthday?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Have you ever had a pet fish?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, so many.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you have any tattoos? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Would you ever or do you have a nose piercing?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;If you only had 30 days to live, what would you do? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would have long chats with the people I love, especially my friends. I'll travel the world and do crazy things. I'll burn all my textbooks?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/S141014/The_Unusual_You.html" title="The Unusual You"&gt;Take this survey&lt;/a&gt; | &lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/surveys" title="Bzoink Surveys"&gt;Find more surveys&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/" title="Bzoink"&gt;Bzoink&lt;/a&gt; - The Original Survey Site&lt;img style="visibility: hidden; width: 0px; height: 0px;" src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/CIMP/Jmx*PTEyMDIxMTgzODQwNDgmcHQ9MTIwMjExODM4NzUyOCZwPTg5MjExJmQ9Jm49.jpg" border="0" height="0" width="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-5117689765032825?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/5117689765032825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=5117689765032825' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5117689765032825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5117689765032825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/tianna-is-so-weeeeird.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-6593918234435835246</id><published>2008-02-03T18:10:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T18:16:56.898+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quizes:D'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;table&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;Top 12&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Sharon &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;2.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Jo &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;3.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ina &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;4.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Lorraine &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;5.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Rachel Loh &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;6.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Rachel Lee &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;7.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Rachel Cheng &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;8.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Berenice &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;9.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Molly &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;10.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Fiona &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;11.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Tim &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;12.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Sean &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Out Of These People&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who is the oldest?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Lorraine:D &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The youngest?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Tim, I think. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you kissed any of these people?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Uh. No comment. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who did you talk to last?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ina, and am still talking to. If not, Jo. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Are you related to any of them?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Yeah, kind of related to Tim and Lorraine(: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who can you trust the most?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Lorraine and Ina maybe. Can't decide.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Are any of them going out?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Dating? No? I hope not :S &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Would you date any of them?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Definately not. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who have you been to the the movies with?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Rachel Loh, Fiona and Ina&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who have you seen in a bathing suit?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Lorraine? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who has seen you in a bathing suit?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Lorraine? LOL &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who have you known the longest?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Lorraine, duh. Since I was what, BORN? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;who has a bf/gf?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No one, I think. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who do you have the most inside jokes with?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;SHARON:D &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who is the smartest?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;LORRAINE. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who would you kill for?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I don't know :S Don't ask me such questions. ): &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who is most attractive?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;That's for me to know and you to find out :D &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who do you have the most fun with?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Don't know. Haha. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who is the weirdest?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;RACHEL CHENG.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who is easiest to get along with?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Lorraine &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who do your parents know the best?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;LORRAINE. Stupid question. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who makes you laugh the most?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Sharon(: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Match the numbers&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Where did you meet 11?:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;When we went to his house to pick him up to go for some gospel concert. I was 8.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Are you dating 1?:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;NO. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What would you do if 10 and 3 were going out?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;O_O DIE? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Is 7 smart?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I doubt so :D &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Is 2 your best friend?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Kind of. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Are you dating 1?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Didn't you already ask me that? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Does 12 drink?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Sometimes &gt;&lt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What's the best memory you have with 4?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;MIDNIGHT CHATS AND SLEEPOVERS&lt;3&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Would you date 9 if they asked you out?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;NO. NEVER IN MY LIFE.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;When was the last time you saw 6?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Yesterday(: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;When's 4's birthday?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;120694 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Are you related to 9?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who has the most in common with 5?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Sharon? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who's 3's best friend?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I think I know who :S &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Is 8 the youngest?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you ever hugged 11?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I think so? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Gone to the movies with 6?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How old is 9?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;11 going on 12 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What is 5's name?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Rachel Loh Hui Juan &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Is number 11 your friend?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Yeah? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Is 10 a gangstaaa?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No? And I hope not. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you met 4's parents?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Duh. They're my godparents.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;have you ever been to 8's house?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;do you know any of 12's deepest darkest secrets?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Yep. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Gone out with person 8?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope. Sad &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How did you meet 11?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Can't remember. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Does number 9 have your number?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Yeah she does. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you have number 7's number?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Yeah I do. (: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/S105275/T0P_12%60*.html" title="T0P 12`*"&gt;Take this survey&lt;/a&gt; | &lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/surveys" title="Bzoink Surveys"&gt;Find more surveys&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/" title="Bzoink"&gt;Bzoink&lt;/a&gt; - The Original Survey Site&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;img style="visibility: hidden; width: 0px; height: 0px;" src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/CIMP/Jmx*PTEyMDIwMzMzODUwOTMmcHQ9MTIwMjAzMzQzMjg3NSZwPTg5MjExJmQ9Jm49.jpg" border="0" height="0" width="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ten Part Survey&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;PART I: YOU!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What is your name?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Tessa  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How old are you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;11 going 12? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Where were you born?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Singapore &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Where do you live?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Singapore &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What color hair do you have?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Black &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What color eyes do you have?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Brown &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you wear glasses?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Yeah. Sad &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you wear contacts?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Are you a girl or a guy?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;GIRL.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How tall are you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A sad 151cm &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How much do you weigh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;38kg &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you dress for comfort or for style?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Comfort. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Where do you shop the most?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Eh. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you have a job?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you like how you look?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I guess so. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you like your smile?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I guess so. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What about your hair?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What size shoe do you wear?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;2. Yes, my feet are sadly very small. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What size pants?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I don't know? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How about shirt?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Depends. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you have a MySpace?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How about a Facebook?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Yes. Be my friend:D &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How long have you had them for?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A few months. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What's your zodiac sign?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Rat. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you even believe in horoscopes?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope. They're stupid &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you like to dress up?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Not really &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Can you sing?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Eh. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Can you dance?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Eh. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you have any talents?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I can write GOOD fan fictions? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;PART II: FAVORITES&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What is your favorite color?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;All the shades of purple &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What is your favorite school subject?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;SCIENCE.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What is your favorite hobby?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Slacking &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What is your favorite food?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Itallian:D and Jap. Hard to decide. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What is your favorite sport?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I hate sports. Is running counted though? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who is your favorite person?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Of course myself. HAHA. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What's your favorite website?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The one you're currently viewing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What's your favorite form of transportation?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Car? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Favorite vacation?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I don't really know. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Favorite pasttime?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Slacking &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Favorite fruit?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;DURIANS, BANANAS and APPLES are LOVE. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Favorite vegetable?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;LONG BEANS:D &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Favorite TV Show?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Grey's, GG and Heroes:D &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Favorite movie?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm not very sure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;PART III: YOUR FRIENDS&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who are your best friends?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Lorraine, Ina, Sharon, Rachel C., Rachel, Loh, Rachel Lee, Berenice, Jo, Molly, Fiona, Sandrea. (: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you have any friends you don't trust?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I do, but I won't tell you who. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you like any of your friends as more than a friend?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;NO. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Which friend is funniest?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;SHARON&lt;3&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Which friend is most outgoing?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Sharon? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Which friend do you always have a good time with?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;ALMOST all of them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Which friend's house do you sleep over the most?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;LORRAINE:D &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Which friend is the most like you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I don't know:S &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Which friend would you trust with your life?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Lorraine since she's my godsister. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you think you could survive without your friends?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope, never. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;PART IV: SCHOOL&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What's the hardest class you have?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;MATHS D: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What language are you taking?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Chinese. Boo. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What's your easiest subject?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;ENGLISH:D &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you have good grades?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Kind of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Would you cry if you got an F on a test?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;YES &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you ever failed a course?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you ever had a detention?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Suspension?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Expulsion?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope. I'm a good girl (: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you abide by the rules, or disobey them?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I abide them most of the time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;PART V: GUILTY PLEASURES&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you watch Hannah Montana?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;NO. WTF. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Still listen to any old boy bands or pop stars?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Eat anything people consider weird?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Durian? Haha. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Still visit sites like Neopets?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I used to. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you still watch little kid cartoons?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I blame my brother &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Are you embarassed or ashamed of anything you do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Sometimes yes &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What would you do if people found out about your guilty pleasures?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nothing? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;PART VI: THE WILD YOU&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you party?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you drink?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you smoke?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope, I'm a good girl &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you do drugs?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;NO. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you ever had sex with someone you weren't dating?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;NOPE. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Were you drunk?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you get around?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you ever been in a fist fight?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do brothers count? And a little 3 year old kid when I was 1? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you ever told someone off?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Yes &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you ever flashed/mooned someone?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;NO? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Would you ever pose for something lik playboy/playgirl?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No.. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ever kissed more than one person in one night?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you ever been skinny dipping?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you ever gone streaking?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;NO &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you ever been naked in a hot tub?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;NO &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;PART VII: LOVE&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you ever been in love?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Are you in a relationship?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What's your longest relationship?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No relationship to compare to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How many boyfriends/girlfriends have you had?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Zero. Unless kindergarten counted /: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Are you a virgin?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Duh &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who was your first kiss?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Not telling you(: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you ever been with someone who was a bad kisser?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you like anyone right now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you still have some kind of memoribelia from a past ex?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you have a photo of you and an ex?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you ever cheated?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Would you ever take someone back if they cheated?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you been around all the bases?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Is being loved the best feeling in the world?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Depends on what kind of love. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Is it true that all you need is love?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No, that sounds stupid. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;PART VIII: MUSIC&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What's your favorite band?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I don't really know. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who's your favorite artist?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;As above. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What kind of music do you listen to?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Not techno or hard metal thats for sure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Is music your life?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Not really &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you have an iPod/Mp3 player?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Of course:D &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How many songs?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;170++ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;If you could meet any artist/band, who would it be? (Dead/Alive)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Maybe TC5 or BLG &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How many CD's do you own, on estimation?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;5. I download most of my songs. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Did you ever own cassettes with music on them?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you like classical music?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Not really &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you play an instrument?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Two. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you ever written a song?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you only like car rides for the music?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No.. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Would you survive without music?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Yes &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you ever been in a band or chorus class?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nope &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;PART IX: BELIEFS&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you believe in God?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Yes, my God. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you agree with gay marriages?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It's their life, why should I care. But I find it disturbing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Are you for or against abortions?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;AGAINST. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Premarital sex?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you believe in peace or war?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Peace. Who the hell wants war. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you shove beliefs down others' throats?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Are you highly opinionated?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I don't know? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you believe in ghosts?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Angels?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I guess so &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Aliens?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;PART X: FAMILY&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How many siblings do you have?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;5. Shocking. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Are your parents together/divorced/separated?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Divorced &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Who do you live with?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;My mum &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How many of your great-grandparents are still living?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How many aunts/uncles do you have (Only your mom/dad's real siblings.) ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;4? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Are you the first born?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Yeah &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you have a step-family?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Yeah &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you love your family?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Eh... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you feel like you're part of someone else's family too?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I guess so &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Where does most of your family live?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Singapore? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What are your siblings names?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Timothy, Rebecca, Darien, Melissa and Nicole &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;If you don't have any siblings, do you want any?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I don't want any more. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you want to get married someday?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I guess so. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you want to have kids someday?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Maybe. Prefably girls. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/S141048/Ten_Part_Survey.html" title="Ten Part Survey"&gt;Take this survey&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; | &lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/surveys" title="Bzoink Surveys"&gt;Find more surveys&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bzoink.com/" title="Bzoink"&gt;Bzoink&lt;/a&gt; - The Original Survey Site&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;img style="visibility: hidden; width: 0px; height: 0px;" src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/CIMP/Jmx*PTEyMDIwMzMzNjEwMTUmcHQ9MTIwMjAzMzQ*MzE1NiZwPTg5MjExJmQ9Jm49.jpg" border="0" height="0" width="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-6593918234435835246?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/6593918234435835246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=6593918234435835246' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/6593918234435835246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/6593918234435835246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/t0p-12-name-your-top-12-1.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-8365804971750390089</id><published>2008-02-03T15:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-03T15:29:51.746+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Don't bother guessing who I was refering to, nine out of ten times you will get it wrong, even if you think you know me well. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Think&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;key word&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not getting any better. I sense a fever coming soon. Sigh. Sharon called me today. :X It was a little funny that we didn't recognize her voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Her: Hello?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hello, who is this?&lt;br /&gt;Her: It's Sharon&lt;br /&gt;Me: OH! Hahaha.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She sounded like some small kid with a really high voice and apparently I sounded like an indian &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;MAN&lt;/span&gt; to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This shows that teachers demanding for enthusiasm even though it's clear my squad will never win is killing my voice. I really do sound like a man. /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to go back to school tomorrow. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just remembered how much I looked forward to GB every week last year since I was a social outcast in class. I realised that that enthusiasm has worn off, I don't look forward to it anymore, I dread it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is that a bad sign?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Screw it. I don't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CA1's coming in three weeks. My doom days on the flag are in three weeks. Oh the joy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-8365804971750390089?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/8365804971750390089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=8365804971750390089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/8365804971750390089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/8365804971750390089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/dont-bother-guessing-who-i-was-refering.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-7511722564662032694</id><published>2008-02-02T16:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-02T21:23:47.752+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>[edit]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'll wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Berenice, I look forward to meeting you at the flag pole on Monday morning at 7:20. Good luck girl (;&lt;br /&gt;[/edit]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I'm feeling really sick. Really really sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heads throbbing, I have a horrible sore throat, I'm losing my voice, my nose is dripping, my eyes are gonna close any minute and my body is well, full of rashes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is that supposed to scare me? What if I got dengue again. Would I die?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, at least I wouldn't have to suffer anymore. I will be prepared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the fever comes, I would be quite certain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feeling sick makes me blue. And, uh, I think too much when I'm blue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just feel like ripping my heart out. What would that feel like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beatrice, my lovely junior asked if I would come back and join GB.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know. This is the time where I actually feel like quitting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a quitter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know/:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just really not in the mood for doing anything but sleeping and talking to someone. Then again, I don't have anyone to talk to. /: Or more like, really really talk to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should have a best friend. Don't best friends share things with each other?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But how do you ever know if you can trust someone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I feel like I shouldn't trust you. Like I'm a friend for all the wrong reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then why is this friendship actually moving? Why do I care?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I was right after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Please don't be angry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-7511722564662032694?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/7511722564662032694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=7511722564662032694' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7511722564662032694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7511722564662032694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/02/im-thank-god-finally-back-thank-god.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-2839400405545922868</id><published>2008-01-31T23:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:00:48.875+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R6HlIjx3YEI/AAAAAAAAAMw/uvidZo2vxmE/s1600-h/Image006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R6HlIjx3YEI/AAAAAAAAAMw/uvidZo2vxmE/s200/Image006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161658583149404226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's 11:07PM and I haven't finished any of my work, I haven't learn my tingxie and I'm not really done with packing my camp back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't want to go. It's a waste of time. Think of the things I can do at home, like slack and make fun of Tim, instead of waking up early and eating lousy food at a camp that I probably will not enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like camps. No I don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mickey shall go with me to camp. Eh that stupid Ina hasn't answered my question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I telling you this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh also I have to print her stuff. Argh. Oh look she's online. How convinient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahwells. I'm off to burning midnight oil.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-2839400405545922868?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/2839400405545922868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=2839400405545922868' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2839400405545922868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2839400405545922868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/its-1107pm-and-i-havent-finished-any-of.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R6HlIjx3YEI/AAAAAAAAAMw/uvidZo2vxmE/s72-c/Image006.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6819780661942236823.post-8160071119957266958</id><published>2008-01-30T16:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:00:49.094+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>{edit}&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R6BDJzx3YDI/AAAAAAAAAMo/I4TwJP_9QnI/s1600-h/Image001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R6BDJzx3YDI/AAAAAAAAAMo/I4TwJP_9QnI/s200/Image001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161199008763830322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Look at the huge Photoshop guide :O I facinate library books. Somehow I've fallen in love with them. &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realised that someone's internet personality can be so much different from someone's peronality in reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember how Clarissa explained that process to me. After all, she is the biggest example I have until today. I went to Rachel Lohloh's blog and saw that Deborah Wong tagged on her blog. I don't know if it's just me but she's really quiet as a person in real life. We've been in the same class for 2 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, is that the Deborah who tagged on my blog or is it Tempura?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway back to that, when I read her blog, I realised she isn't who she is as I know her in real life. I'm not saying it's a bad thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sharon can be another example, look how much more vulgar she is online than real life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for me, I think I'm more of an airhead in real life than online. Ahwell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;{/edit}&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, it seems official. Do we have an official 'clique' name? Because if it is then, I belong to Rachel Rangers! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am Tissy? The black Rachel Ranger:D Whatever it is, I definately NOT going to be TESTIS the Black Ranger. Sharon you're so screwed and sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we even have a theme song. Haha, how stupid can we get. Oh yes, much more. And only Jo the unenthu ranger refuses to join in the fun of...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SINGING CHINESE NEW YEAR SONGS! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing Deborah high for the first time. Hm, interesting. Yes we love singing. I swear my classmates probably think I'm an airhead AND a little screwed. This is what Sharon does to you, I'm sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tianna decided to join in the fun, so did Fiona. Haha. The teacher was practically amazed at how suddenly Sharon, Deborah and I were so cheerful and loud since we're usually the quiet ones. I laughed until my cramps had added pain. Ah wells.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to draw the RR logo, and finish the theme song. :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-8160071119957266958?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/8160071119957266958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=8160071119957266958' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/8160071119957266958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/8160071119957266958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/okay-it-seems-official.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R6BDJzx3YDI/AAAAAAAAAMo/I4TwJP_9QnI/s72-c/Image001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6819780661942236823.post-1142328297342024151</id><published>2008-01-29T17:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-29T20:44:59.562+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I love you and I don't care if the whole world knows&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[EDIT]&lt;br /&gt;As you can see, I changed my blogskin so that this blog can be viewable again. I don't see why you guys can't tag anymore. No more excuses!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Credits go to Jo for the blogskin. I don't care if you don't like it, I do. Anyway, I never cared if you did.&lt;br /&gt;[/EDIT]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;As you can see, Berenice, I am done with Songs of a Humpback Whale by Jodi Picoult. Which is why I quoted that lovely sentence said by Oliver Jones, a fictional character in the book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I really wished Jane went with Sam (even though they're like 10 years apart). Sigh, why did you have to make it end like this Jodi?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also it would be prefered that Rebecca died instead of Hadley. Rebecca sucks. Looks like all Rebecca's are destined to be horrible people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't met a nice one so till then. (: I believe your name reflects your personality most of the time. I hope I'm not a replica of Tessa Liang. Even if I am, I'd like to think that she copies me. I don't copy her, I'm not a bimbo. At least I hope not. I hope I'm not an airhead either. ):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though I'm quite sure I act like an airhead at times. Ahwells.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway the fact that she's in tap and I'm in GB says a lot. Yes I'm in a uniformed group and I'm proud of it. That was maximum cheesiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one can acess this blog. That's lovely. :D Download Firefox stupid, then you can!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I can start on The Invisible Circus(: I hope I can finish it soon so that I can read A Fatal Reunion, which seems darker than this one. Then I can go and borrow more books (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to start reading my 599 page guide book soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Office theme song is stuck in my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;{edit}&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't get it. Why is it that I'm still calling myself a P5 but I call everyone else by their level? It's like a freaking slip of tongue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tessa, stop swearing you idiot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know, it's like I miss last year yet I want to hold on to this year. I have my days and today is the I-miss-2007 year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean like, who doesn't miss 2007? It was such an awesome year! I haven't felt the kick in 2008 so I don't really... yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that last year at this time it was getting pretty awesome already. With National Drill and all. I'm just like some walking corpse now slacking/studying and going to school. It really sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't feel that PSLE-kick. Maybe it'll never come? I know it's only January but think about it, I only have a few more months. MONTHS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just hope I'll do well. D:&lt;br /&gt;{/edit}&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-1142328297342024151?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/1142328297342024151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=1142328297342024151' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/1142328297342024151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/1142328297342024151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-love-you-and-i-dont-care-if-whole.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-3494984737241814907</id><published>2008-01-28T19:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-28T19:26:22.689+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/mSEfK0UYz48&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/mSEfK0UYz48&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="200" width="300"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HILARIOUS! &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm almost done with Songs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shit that song can't get out of my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THEIR TAKING THE HOBBITS TO ISENGARD! :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-3494984737241814907?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/3494984737241814907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=3494984737241814907' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/3494984737241814907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/3494984737241814907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/hilarious-3-im-almost-done-with-songs.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-5825921022847915692</id><published>2008-01-27T16:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-27T16:13:18.477+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I NEED TO DO MY WORK. SO WHY AM I STILL HERE?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know :S&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-5825921022847915692?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/5825921022847915692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=5825921022847915692' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5825921022847915692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5825921022847915692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-need-to-do-my-work.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-5785910616094169240</id><published>2008-01-26T15:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-26T16:25:45.905+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I was forced out of bed today to visit the beautiful AMK library to borrow books. Being a big fan of dark and distraught books, I borrowed two of such books and hopefully would finish them by 16 Febuary 2008.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will do it. I do not want to end up paying 10 dollars for overdue books like somebody *hints hints*.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Incidentally, I managed to borrow the Photoshop CS2 Guide. I shall try my hardest to complete my notes. The book is so thick. It's a wonder how I managed to find it in the midst of all the other Photoshop books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Current reading list:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Harvey Angel by Diana Hendry (&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Completed&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;2) Songs of a Humpback Whale by Jodi Picoult (&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Currently reading and yet to finish&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;3) The Invisible Circus by Jennifer Egan (&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Library Book&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;4) A Fatal Reunion by Penelope Evans (&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Library Book&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;5) Looking for Alaska by John Green&lt;br /&gt;6) Life Swap by Jane Green (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I have no idea why I bought that book&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Current note-taking book list:&lt;br /&gt;1) Adobe Photoship CS2 : Studio Techniques by Ben Willmore (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It's a whooping 599 pages and it's freaking huge and heavy!&lt;/span&gt;; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Library Book&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also I suprisingly managed to find An Abundance of Katherines by John Green in the AMK library but someone has the book so I reserved it. Hopefully the book will come soon. I want to read it. (: I want to own the book though  ):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to finish Songs of a Humpback whale and then read my library books and I also need to do my work and do my Photoshop notes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many things to do, so little time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay I'm going to go on reading for a while before completing my work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-5785910616094169240?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/5785910616094169240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=5785910616094169240' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5785910616094169240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5785910616094169240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-was-forced-out-of-bed-today-to-visit.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-5977047093035251294</id><published>2008-01-24T21:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-24T21:49:01.344+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't know why, but I'm getting over the I-Really-Miss-5.4-thing. Because to be exact, I don't miss the class as a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whole&lt;/span&gt;, that'll be a plain lie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss the people who went for Shanghai, yes I miss those people from 5.4. I miss the teachers, mainly Mrs Chong and Miss Dai because they're awesome. I miss the togetherness which obviously is slowly going away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone's just moving on, it's too hard to be together as a class anymore. It's really a shame.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-5977047093035251294?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/5977047093035251294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=5977047093035251294' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5977047093035251294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/5977047093035251294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-dont-know-why-but-im-getting-over-i.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-3131506319342740487</id><published>2008-01-20T20:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-20T20:45:28.852+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm so full I think I might die of bloated-ness. My stomach's churning right now. One lesson learnt in life: Never eat too much bakuteh in a meal. Urghh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Barfs in a corner*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I did my work today! Cheer for Tessa!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also I went to Ikea and took a lot of random pictures and played around with the furniture:D And taped a little video of my brother as a trolley-pusher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a little lost of words to say, hm. Oh yeah! This is funny:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hahaha&lt;br /&gt;xD&lt;br /&gt;II FEEEEL BBBLOOOAAATTTEEEDDDDD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i ate BAKUTTEH.&lt;br /&gt;so muccch&lt;br /&gt;so full&lt;br /&gt;gonna expload&lt;br /&gt;and a thousand tessa pieces will fly everywhere&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOL&lt;br /&gt;*catches tessa's eye ball*&lt;br /&gt;AHHH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHHA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*throws eye ball in random direction*&lt;br /&gt;oops&lt;br /&gt;now tessa cant see anymore..&lt;br /&gt;so sad&lt;br /&gt;T-T&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;haha&lt;br /&gt;yes im blind&lt;br /&gt;and i can still type&lt;br /&gt;i rock&lt;br /&gt;(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOL&lt;br /&gt;HAHHAHHA&lt;br /&gt;curse ur typing skills tessa &lt;br /&gt;xp&lt;br /&gt;jkjk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hahaha&lt;br /&gt;i am tryung to type with my eyes closed &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(I did type with my eyes closed)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay&lt;br /&gt;that sucked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok now that u've blown up into 100 tessa pieces&lt;br /&gt;I'LL PUT U BACK TOGETHER&lt;br /&gt;WOOT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;haha&lt;br /&gt;WHEE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now lets find that eyeball first&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here eyeball eyeball eyeball!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(eyeball comes jumping out of some random bush)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; :O&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOL&lt;br /&gt;ok now put it back into the head&lt;br /&gt;does ur brain stay intact with ur head tessa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;haha&lt;br /&gt;yeah&lt;br /&gt;phew&lt;br /&gt;xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i dont know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;k&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;shld it be blown away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;eh&lt;br /&gt;den i cant put u back together..&lt;br /&gt;SO LETS LEAVE IT IN&lt;br /&gt;now to find the head..&lt;br /&gt;weehee this is fun!&lt;br /&gt;(sticks eye balls into place)&lt;br /&gt;i wonder if it would hold..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;haha&lt;br /&gt;*pops back out*&lt;br /&gt;AHHHHH&lt;br /&gt;*rolls to random corner*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oops..&lt;br /&gt;EHHH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hahaahaha&lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHERES THE SUPER GLUE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cant see&lt;br /&gt;anything&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lol&lt;br /&gt;(throws things out of drawers)&lt;br /&gt;WHERE IS IT&lt;br /&gt;oh wait&lt;br /&gt;i forgot&lt;br /&gt;i dun hav any..&lt;br /&gt;lets just use uhu glu stick then&lt;br /&gt;*grabs eye ball and puts glue all over and sticks it into head*&lt;br /&gt;STAY THERE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;haha&lt;br /&gt;*touches eye*&lt;br /&gt;stablalized?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hope so..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hahaha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if not i'll end up pouring chemicals on it i say!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO!&lt;br /&gt;haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;haha&lt;br /&gt;ur poor eye ball it would be&lt;br /&gt;muahhahahah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;)x&lt;br /&gt;fix the other pieces!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOL&lt;br /&gt;i forgot&lt;br /&gt;shucks&lt;br /&gt;ok wheres the neck and the body..&lt;br /&gt;lalala~&lt;br /&gt;looking for body pieces~&lt;br /&gt;WEEHEE&lt;br /&gt;FOUND THEM&lt;br /&gt;i wonder wad will happen ur joints thou&lt;br /&gt;OH WELL&lt;br /&gt;IT AIN'T MY BODY&lt;br /&gt;*grabs more glue and sticks neck to head and body to neck*&lt;br /&gt;WAHA&lt;br /&gt;TADA&lt;br /&gt;A LIMBLESS BODY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;haha&lt;br /&gt;BOO YOU&lt;br /&gt;so what&lt;br /&gt;im typing with my mouth?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOL&lt;br /&gt;haha&lt;br /&gt;that'll be cool!&lt;br /&gt;xp&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;haha&lt;br /&gt;NO IT WONT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lets find the fingers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;shucks there ar ten&lt;br /&gt;BLEH THE FINGERS&lt;br /&gt;ok&lt;br /&gt;*sticks them not hand*&lt;br /&gt;oops&lt;br /&gt;wrong side&lt;br /&gt;hahahahahaha&lt;br /&gt;sry tessa..&lt;br /&gt;XP&lt;br /&gt;*takes off all fingers and resticks them propely*&lt;br /&gt;PHEW&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hahah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I NVR KNEW STICKING BODY PARTS WAS SO HARD&lt;br /&gt;ah the heck care&lt;br /&gt;*jams everything thing else in*&lt;br /&gt;i wonder if i can stick u in a blender blend u all up and u'll come out with all ur pieces together&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ouch&lt;br /&gt;haha&lt;br /&gt;dont try&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lol&lt;br /&gt;FRANKENSTEIN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:        -Define like says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;haha&lt;br /&gt;so are all my parts glued together or what&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yup!&lt;br /&gt;ALL 100 PARTS&lt;br /&gt;WOOT!&lt;br /&gt;THE TESSA PUZZLE IS FINISHED!&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, there's a lot of screaming now. I don't want to go to school. ):&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-3131506319342740487?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/3131506319342740487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=3131506319342740487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/3131506319342740487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/3131506319342740487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/im-so-full-i-think-i-might-die-of.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-1879220136190068644</id><published>2008-01-19T21:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-19T21:51:56.433+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Just a quick update/summary on the past week. Because Jo made me update.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Work load&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moderate. Nothing stressful at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Change of time table&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope this thing has it's advantages. Right when I remembered my timetable this has to happen. The only thing that'll make this change of time table good is that the canteen wouldn't be so crowded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No more crowded Mondays&lt;br /&gt;No more crowded Thursdays&lt;br /&gt;No more crowded Fridays&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Labdays are not after recess anymore, it's before. ):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Procratination&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will go away. Seriously, I'm progressing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) What the Buck is weird. Yes I'm addicted to YouTube.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heh. He's so weird. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) FanFiction Chapter 6.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GO READ IT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. I'm done here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-1879220136190068644?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/1879220136190068644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=1879220136190068644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/1879220136190068644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/1879220136190068644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/just-quick-updatesummary-on-past-week.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-4158118521699218194</id><published>2008-01-18T23:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-19T00:00:35.796+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>HAHAHA! Jay Chou concert was uberrr funnayee:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LORRAINE THE CRAZINESS! xD Both of us camwhored like idiots and laughed like no one's buisness. GOSH I LOVE MY GODSISTER (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WANT THE PICTURESS! (:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-4158118521699218194?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/4158118521699218194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=4158118521699218194' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/4158118521699218194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/4158118521699218194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/hahaha-jay-chou-concert-was-uberrr.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-2161688980008437214</id><published>2008-01-17T17:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-17T17:57:25.508+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay, mood stabalized. (: Happy Tessa brought the reviews to my inbox therefore I have inspiration to do another FanFiction to continue(: Now, depressed Tessa has gone vacationing, joining Rachel in probable hell. Hehh. I was just kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Argh. Berenice is doing vepsers next week and I have iPhoto. Then again, there's a chance I can go after iPhoto during badge work and I'll still get to see Berenice do vespers! Woohoo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were supposed to go practice raising the flag today (apparently) but no one was there so Berenice and I ended up in like the Library, talking. Saw the bitches? I'm not going to get tired of calling them that for a while so yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saw Rachel Tardy Lohloh like gazillion times today everywhere. Gosh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah and Mrs David told us that we're gonna get a fixed timetable! (: WITH FLOATING RECESSES. I don't know how that benefits me but Sharon and I got quite excited x) Me particularly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm ALMOST done with Harvey Angell. I should hurry, a lot of people are waiting for the book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Art was hilarious today. Gosh, deformity is supposedly the aim of what we're supposed to do. AND WE NEED TO DO ANOTHER POTRAIT AFTER THAT. I'm quite good with the drawing but I hate art.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a random note, I've been doing my homework :D Happy me(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. IWBTG! (:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-2161688980008437214?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/2161688980008437214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=2161688980008437214' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2161688980008437214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2161688980008437214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/okay-mood-stabalized.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-6093774949869055164</id><published>2008-01-16T18:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:00:49.352+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I really really realised how much I miss Rachel, Molly and BERENICE! Inclusive of LiWen and Clarissa but like I see them other days to because I take the same bus home as LiWen and as for Clarissa, I see her like everyday when I visit 6.4 so yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, FINALLY talked to all of them properlly. (: Tessa's an extremely happy girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I don't care if Berenice isn't going to spread the news, I shall for her. SHE GOT PROMOTED! Good job girl! And apparently being promoted late has it's positive side. She got some special card from Mrs Tay. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still quite ugh about the late promotion thing. I don't see what she didn't do that we did. Also don't see what Deborah did that Berenice didn't. I mean like, Berenice really does most of the things for Deborah anyway. I'm not being biased. IT'S THE TRUTHHH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I'm in a uniformed group. Big dealll. It's not all that bad if you want to know. I LIKE BEING IN A UNIFORMED GROUP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh. On to more things that made my day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HILARIOUS MATHS CLASSES!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gosh. Today was so freaking fun! Everyone was just laughing their asses of at nothing at all. And Sharon and I were like really really crazy. GOSH THAT GIRL AH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I convinced Fiona to stay back for 'chinese sup' which we didn't have in the end. So we were just doing stupid things in class. AND TALKING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so funny! x) Sharon's mama called and Fi and I pretended to be the chinese teacher and I didn't even know how to read the thing. Heh. In the end Sharon didn't have tution. HAHA. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And apparently Japan is the featured place that everyone's going end of year. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to admit, I kinda do like it that I'm in 6.3. At first, although like I definately want to be with the rest of 5.407, 6.3 is kind of awesome too at times, only the people I talk to though x) But I'm rather sociable. I thought I couldn't relate to the rest. But I talk to Sophilia, RACHEL CHENG, SHARON, Deborah Yew and Tianna. But she's an exception x)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO. TODAY CAN WIN BEST DAY SO FAR SINCE I'VE BEEN TO SCHOOL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have nothing to do with the useless bitches and I don't care that I call them that anymore! HAHA! Call me a bitch, I don't really care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, they DESERVE it. I'm not even a loner can. Gosh. I have friends, today proved so :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, I'm flag raising with Tianna. Not telling anyone when. Only SOME people know. You might be one of them, HUSH ABOUT IT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARGH. WANNA DO WITH BERENICE. I have nothing against Tianna if you want to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my career as a flag raiser is so over. I can't even freaking raise it properlly. I'M SCREWED. Plus I'm raising SG flag. UGH. TIANNA I'll KILL YOU.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I did with Berenice I'll very much force her to take the SG flag :X&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOT TELLING YOU WHEN I AM. It'll be easy to know anyway :X but don't try to ask, I won't say a word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;edit&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HEH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/edit&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R43pcCkLH8I/AAAAAAAAAJo/uc-ixKKpbjQ/s1600-h/Image010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R43pcCkLH8I/AAAAAAAAAJo/uc-ixKKpbjQ/s200/Image010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156033816343289794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;edit&gt;RACHEL CHENG. Okay. I'll update the photos like tmr. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/edit&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/edit&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-6093774949869055164?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/6093774949869055164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=6093774949869055164' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/6093774949869055164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/6093774949869055164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-really-really-realised-how-much-i.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R43pcCkLH8I/AAAAAAAAAJo/uc-ixKKpbjQ/s72-c/Image010.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6819780661942236823.post-665243094367445650</id><published>2008-01-15T23:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T23:42:42.661+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>SLEEEEPPYYY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I've got a huge problem. I can't stop using the computer to find out if my fanfictions have reviews.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That also means my studying is so limited and I always sleep late to try and finish my homework. Ugh. I need help. Someone create multiple accounts on FanFiction and go review my story until that thrill (yes, that was the word I was looking for) is gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I posted chapter four already.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School kind of is okay. I think it's okay. I just have a big recess problem (and irritating backstabbing bitches) and apart from that my life is actually pretty awesome. If school was some virtual computer world I'll be even happier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RECESS PROBLEM. One day, I will find someone to accompany me to go to the canteen and get food for my hungry stomach, which I starved today. If not, I guess I'll look for Rachel in the library and be a bookworm :O.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pathatic. Yes, whatever/: That's for BITCHES to blame for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The work load isn't even hard to manage actually, it's just that I never fail to turn on the laptop when I come home. I GOT TO STOP THAT. Someone kill me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIGH. If I didn't have that ridiculous problem, I would be a happy mugger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And tomorrow is GB! How great is that? It's definately something I would look forward to (when bitches rule the world). Yeah, last year it pained like that too. Just that I actually had people to talk to last year even though it was hard, very hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year is worse T_T One lesson learnt, have more than a group of useless friends. I have Jo but it's a little weird to go recess with her and S&amp;amp;D. Shant spoil their clique-ness, I'll go look for someone myself. *Grumble mumbles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, it's not even like I've got no one to talk to, it's just that during recess, cliques go recess together right? I don't really have one and I don't blame anyone, even myself for that. Because, I don't regret it, I just feel lonely. Yeah, that's the word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if I go back to that useless clique, which I don't plan to, I'll feel lonely all the same. Ugh. RACHEL IF I HAVE TO JOIN YOU IN THE LIBRARY, I WILL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll see how everything goes. I guess I might get used to going with Jo, S &amp;amp; D.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss the holidays so badly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Godsiblings and sleepovers&lt;br /&gt;Constant paradise of sleeping until 12&lt;br /&gt;No worries about ANYTHING&lt;br /&gt;Online for the whole day talking to friends without the inverted commas&lt;br /&gt;I was a happy person&lt;br /&gt;I was a more determined person&lt;br /&gt;The friends with the inverted commas weren't bitches then&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, you should know who you are. Yes your guilty of being a bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, rant over. I'm going to complete my homework and go to bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-665243094367445650?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/665243094367445650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=665243094367445650' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/665243094367445650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/665243094367445650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/sleeeeppyyy.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-6953530031331848705</id><published>2008-01-13T01:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-13T01:21:57.675+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Another week of January has passed. Tomorrow, I'll be back in school dying for sleep. And yet, I haven't gotten enough rest this whole weekend. Time's moving too fast and too slow at the same time. I'm so tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never felt so tired in my life. Even though it's only been like 11 years on earth I have existed, but that's besides the point. SLEEP is what I need right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, all the non-existent stress that I put on myself has been making me a big bitch this week. Patience my dear, is the key. Yeah, I'm talking to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a big change of enviroment. Seriously. I miss talking to a lot of people, and when I mean a lot, I mean the better versions of people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously? What's up with everyone now a days? We're all moody and hot tempered and selfish. It's the non-existent stress I tell you. No one can have a proper conversation without feeling like they really don't want to talk to the person, well I've been feeling that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apart from all that, sitting with Sharon lightens my mood. Laughing between lessons at nothing, I miss that. I use to do that a lot with Joyce but I laugh so much more with Sharon. And it's not even funny, we just laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, It's like 1:20. I'm going to bed and get like 13 hours of sleep and mug and sleep again or something. I hope this week would turn out better /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes. Monday is a I-really-hate-secondary-girls-day. Canteen is filled with people. Ugh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-6953530031331848705?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/6953530031331848705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=6953530031331848705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/6953530031331848705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/6953530031331848705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/another-week-of-january-has-passed.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-7460708544110785005</id><published>2008-01-12T12:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:00:49.529+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>1) I WANNA BE THE GUY. GOSH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to Jo, my brother got hooked onto the YouTube videos and so I decided to download the game. AND I MADE IT TO MIKE TYSON. Oh yeah! :D&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R4g89ykLH7I/AAAAAAAAAJg/29Jmta7AOUY/s1600-h/MIKETYSON.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 190px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R4g89ykLH7I/AAAAAAAAAJg/29Jmta7AOUY/s200/MIKETYSON.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154436805768716210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's so tough to beat him! I keep dying T_T This is at medium level by the way. I know you guys are probably laughing but try and play it yourself. I spent 5 minutes trying to jump properlly. UGH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother's playing it now and he's so angry he slammed his head into my bed. HAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Gossip Girl FanFics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote a &lt;a href="http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4003360/1/I_Wish_I_Could_Say_I_Love_You"&gt;FanFic&lt;/a&gt; on &lt;a href="http://www.fanfiction.net/"&gt;FanFiction.net&lt;/a&gt; for Gossip Girl (: If you're a fan please go read it and review! Or just read it like a book to see if it's good. Overnight, I got 3 more reviews and all of them say it's good. I'm so happy! (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll post my chapter 2 here and see if you like it:D If you do, go to FanFiction.net, go to books, go to Gossip Girl and find the story I Wish I Could Say I Love you by sugarrushed- and review! Positive crtisism on how I can improve would be greatly appreciated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also if you have any idea on how I can continue please tell me :X I love people who update FanFic's regularly so I want to do that to. I just need a story line to continue with now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span name="storytext" id="storytext" class="storytext"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span name="storytext" id="storytext" class="storytext"&gt;Rufus sat in the living room, having the indecision to call Lily and ask her to explain why she had left him there and went with Bart instead. He was itching to pick the phone up and dial the numbers but he was too afraid of being rejected again.&lt;p&gt;He lay down on the couch and tried to think straight. He loved Lily and he was pretty sure of it, but why didn’t she love him back? Just this morning, she called him and agreed to escape with him and fall in love with each other again but moments ago she left him on the street and agreed to marry Bart. He just couldn’t figure her out.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“I’ll see you tomorrow Dan.”&lt;br /&gt;“See you Serena.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Serena walked out of Dan’s room her head kept low and she looked as if she was hiding something. Serena looked so much like her mum and that made Rufus’ heart ache even more when he saw her.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“You’re leaving already Serena?”&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah, I should be going back to that thing with Bart and my mum.”&lt;br /&gt;“Okay. I’ll see you soon?”&lt;br /&gt;“See you Rufus.” She said and went out of the door.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Dan walked out of his room and got a glass of water before going back. Rufus could tell that Dan and Serena were hiding something concerning him, but he dare not ask. His son was mature and smart, Rufus was very proud of him. Dan was responsible and Rufus believed that he was old enough to make decisions for himself. Rufus saw the change in Dan after he got together with Serena. He became more patient, more loving and more vulnerable. Rufus saw how Dan was like him when he was younger, too afraid to lose the woman that he loved.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then that was when it struck him, if he and Lily ever got together, Dan and Serena would never be able to be in love. They’ll be ruining their relationship and they’ll probably hate them forever.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Rufus smiled to himself. At least now he knew that Lily didn’t leave him because of Bart, she just wanted Serena and Dan to be happy because her mother never gave Rufus and herself a chance to. She just wanted to be a better mother to Serena.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;-&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lily sat at the table while Bart was talking to Eric. She was hoping that maybe Rufus would call and ask for the reason why she left him alone on the streets. She wanted to tell him that she actually loved him, but she was too afraid to openly express her feelings to him.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lily might have married many men in her life but she realized that Rufus was the only person that she really loved. Right now, she could feel herself yearning for him to call, she hungered for his lips to touch hers, and she wanted very much to be with him but she knew she couldn’t. Serena loved his son and she wasn’t going to ruin their relationship. Lily remembered how her mother made her chose between Rufus and her inheritance, and she regretted very much for not choosing Rufus. Maybe if she did, she would feel happier right now?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“&lt;i&gt;I never should have let you, let me go.&lt;/i&gt;” Rufus’ words ringed in Lily’s head and she couldn’t get them out.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Please ring.” She whispered to her phone, hoping that Rufus would hear her calling to him.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span name="storytext" id="storytext" class="storytext"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span name="storytext" id="storytext" class="storytext"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span name="storytext" id="storytext" class="storytext"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span name="storytext" id="storytext" class="storytext"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span name="storytext" id="storytext" class="storytext"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span name="storytext" id="storytext" class="storytext"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-7460708544110785005?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/7460708544110785005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=7460708544110785005' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7460708544110785005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7460708544110785005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/1-i-wanna-be-guy.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R4g89ykLH7I/AAAAAAAAAJg/29Jmta7AOUY/s72-c/MIKETYSON.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6819780661942236823.post-7862917198130678173</id><published>2008-01-10T18:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:00:49.858+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay a couple of things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) FAN GIRL MUCH. :&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R4X7ECkLH6I/AAAAAAAAAJY/vbhXnYFbfsE/s1600-h/vlcsnap-14921481.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 205px; height: 115px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R4X7ECkLH6I/AAAAAAAAAJY/vbhXnYFbfsE/s200/vlcsnap-14921481.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153801395422044066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R4X6YikLH5I/AAAAAAAAAJQ/-TjgCVAHto0/s1600-h/vlcsnap-14928788.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 207px; height: 116px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R4X6YikLH5I/AAAAAAAAAJQ/-TjgCVAHto0/s200/vlcsnap-14928788.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153800648097734546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the sexy, the cute and the hot. I don't care if you don't agree with me. HE'S THE CUTENESS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Credits to the &lt;a href="http://community.livejournal.com/serena_dan"&gt;Serena and Dan&lt;/a&gt; comunity for the links. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) The not so very secret 5.4 reunion in March&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, it's not really a 5.4 secret if our parents know and someone else knows. I'm sure people other than her (not stating who for privacy) and her friends and 5.4 and parents there are people that the people in 5.4 probably told.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay that didn't really make sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the date of it is 29th March if any kind sould reads this could you please tell me or Fiona or Sarah so that we can give laoshi the class list. I found it in my computer, don't ask. So far I know I should be able to make it, Fiona, Jo Ee and Hin Yee can. I'll update on the time and the ATTIRE soon. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really hope to see all of 5.4 there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) FLAG RAISING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, big mistake was definately to see Mrs Tay today. Or more of saying hello to her. Right now, she wants to meet all the P5 JLs to teach us how to raise the flag. :S I'm so screwed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, BERENICE, Mrs Tay wants to FINALLY promote you. After so long!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Tuesday recess.  Sighhh. Deborah and Dorothy are doing together. Heh. At least that's settled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not telling any body when I'm raising. Go find out yourself. I'll get a haircut and change my specs if I have to remain namless to the Earth that I rose the flag and screwed up. *Bites fingernails*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kind of want to do with Rachel, Berenice or Molly (: Not very blur people would just make my life so much easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) GB!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's starting next week! YESSS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's probably what I wanted to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) HOMEWORK OVERDOSE &amp;amp; FREAKING TINGXIE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to do my work soon. SIGH. So much freaking homework!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay not really, I just have tingxie. Sigh. I'm looking forward to a late night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) More B20(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, here's a video you've got to hear the song that Hank sang. It's stuck in my head&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/CvvFiZyEyTA&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/CvvFiZyEyTA&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="200" width="300"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's good! Also my hormones are telling me that he's quite cute in a nerdish way. Though that's the point. Not critisizing. I love Brotherhood 2.0.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-7862917198130678173?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/7862917198130678173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=7862917198130678173' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7862917198130678173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7862917198130678173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/okay-couple-of-things.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R4X7ECkLH6I/AAAAAAAAAJY/vbhXnYFbfsE/s72-c/vlcsnap-14921481.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6819780661942236823.post-2864075522549274313</id><published>2008-01-09T22:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-09T22:32:58.615+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay quick update before I sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School has been pretty good so far. I've learnt to let go, I'm trying very hard to quit the chirpy state of myself and I'm trying to get a new enviroment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promised myself a change and change is what I'm going to get. I need some air to breathe, I need to take time off from talking to the same people everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I'm almost used to being in my class. Actually, they're not very horrible, just really childish. Met all of my teachers and I miss my chinese teacher cause our new very old one is kind of boring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I have grown a love for algebra, kill me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Songs of the Humpack Whale is pretty good. More more books to go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay I'm done for now. I really really want to sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-2864075522549274313?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/2864075522549274313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=2864075522549274313' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2864075522549274313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2864075522549274313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/okay-quick-update-before-i-sleep.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-2292741277637083734</id><published>2008-01-07T16:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-07T16:34:39.634+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>4th day of school;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm amazed with myself. I slept at 1 yesterday yet I paid a lot of attention to the teacher. Sometimes plucking at my long fingernails while listening. I did most of my homework in school so I can do my own stuff at home. And yeah, mostly school is getting better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I'm afraid of is losing full contact with my other friends who I probably wouldn't be seeing much this year. Sigh, sigh. Also, SARAH I'M REALLY SORRY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to less depressing things, I recieved my time table today, and I'm really upset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW CAN THEY DO THIS TO US? Take away our double recess just because they can't fit the lessons in due to the 20 minutes per period thing? I mean I'm angry that they took away our double recess. But that's not all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They took our double recess AND made the P2s, P4s and P6s' recess clash with the secondary school's recess. What the hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P2s shouldn't have much of a problem, they just need to squeeze in and out of people to get their food. I went hungry today because I really, really didn't want to squeeze with everyone to get food. Pointless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't they make it such that we all have a nice recess without an overpopulated canteen and no way to buy food?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So frustrating ):&lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus if this is going to continue for the rest of the year, I'm never going to escape from seeing Ina in the canteen. And my friends are shit when they see her. Sigh, great friends they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, going to study, seriously.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-2292741277637083734?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/2292741277637083734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=2292741277637083734' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2292741277637083734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2292741277637083734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/4th-day-of-school-im-amazed-with-myself.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-1713169169991187408</id><published>2008-01-05T18:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-05T19:46:26.959+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>And so the first week of school is over. I feel much relief that it is (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, being in 6.3 is kind of frustrating. I'm too used to the tranqulity of 5.4 and our unitedness that I forgot that I'm already in a different enviroment. I'm too used to the peace in 5.4 I nearly forgot how noisy 6.3 can be, and trust me, it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I admit, I'm jealous that I don't belong to 6.4, that the rest of my loving class is there, along with some extras that I'm afraid would replace the 7 in 6.3. I'm afraid that we can't call ourselves 5.4 if they forget us and love their new classmates. I want 5.4 to stay, and I'm too afraid to lose them. Mrs Quek wanted them to be as united, but there can't be a 5.4 spirit with 7 people from the class missing. Even if it means facing her, I wouldn't mind being in 6.4 along with the rest of my class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope that we'll still be united, even though we're in seperate classes (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Generally, the person I'm sitting next to, Sharon, is alright. There are worst people, so I'm grateful. Also, she can be quite fun to sit with because I know her and it wouldn't be awkward if I start talking to her. We can talk to each other, that's good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Teachers are generally okay too. Though it's a little weird to have Chen laoshi as my form and chinese teacher. Comparing to her in China and her in  class, it feels so weird. Ahwells. Mrs David is another version of Mrs Chong, though I'm sorry to say, Mrs Chong is definately better. I like Mrs David, but I miss Mrs Chong. Ms Soh is a great Maths teacher so I have nothing to worry about. And as expected, I knew Mrs Jean Lee would become my P.E teacher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking about missing Mrs Chong, we finally managed to catch her in class on Friday during our second recess. And I also saw my junior in her class, trying to tell her she's so lucky to have Mrs Chong as her teacher. Oh gosh, I really do miss my class do I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, on another note, I have fallen in love with the Cute Is What We Aim for again. Thanks a million Ina &lt;3.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-1713169169991187408?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/1713169169991187408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=1713169169991187408' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/1713169169991187408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/1713169169991187408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/and-so-first-week-of-school-is-over.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-4974734294776275379</id><published>2008-01-03T21:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-03T21:26:40.415+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I can't believe I'm P6. I'm P6! Maybe the more I say it the more I'll believe it, because I just don't feel the kick telling me, "PSLE is going to kill you". I don't even feel like I'm taking PSLE at all. Though it's kind of nice to remind myself once and a while that we're the oldest of the primary school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, that was dumb. But seriously! It's just so funny. Like when you're P1 you kind of want to be P6 but when you really are you don't. I look really big when I stand next to a P1. Do I scare them like how P6s use to scare me when I was P1?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want them to feaaarrr me. Heh. Also I was musing that since we're P6 and have PSLE coming, we should be allowed into the bookshop first since we need our books, and our teachers are chasing us like hounds, saying we should have been prepared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being P6 should have advantages, I just don't see where the advantage is. I'm old? Maybe. I'm quite old. That's not really an advantage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahwells. P6 is going to suck so bad, adding to the fact that my mum is making me go for every enrichment that they offer, leaving me with no life and no free days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no life anymore!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes, I saw Ina today and gave her everything. I'm present-free:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adding to that I fell in love with Cute Is What We Aim For all over again. Love love Risque! (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I know an advantage, I sit in the gallary during chapel, that's not really an advantage. I have to stay back for PSLE talks soon, and have a lot of homework. Is that counted? My teachers are happy to see me and I miss them so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I MISS 5.4 SO DAMN MUCH. I MISS MRS CHONG SO MUCH, I MISS LAOSHI SO MUCH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why aren't you my teachers?!&lt;br /&gt;#!@#!$#$@!@#!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-4974734294776275379?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/4974734294776275379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=4974734294776275379' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/4974734294776275379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/4974734294776275379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-cant-believe-im-p6.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-777295037671815308</id><published>2008-01-01T12:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:00:51.963+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Happy New Year everyone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, to summarise 2007, it's been great. In fact, it would be something I will remember, I promise. Anyway, I decided that instead of giving you a boring story of my life, I decided to feature some people (with pictures. Muhaha).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So these are the people who I'm grateful for and happy that I know them. I feel like torturing them (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm, who shall we start off with?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oEhikLHtI/AAAAAAAAAHw/vthlmUO8yQE/s1600-h/IMG_1125.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 187px; height: 139px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oEhikLHtI/AAAAAAAAAHw/vthlmUO8yQE/s200/IMG_1125.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150434098112306898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Fiona&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lonelygirl&lt;/span&gt; &lt;u&gt;Leong&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This girl is a really really weird girl. She laughs at practically nothing and can sometimes act really childish. She's also by far someone who stands firm with what she believes in, she doesn't change her mind unless it's for a very good reason. Also, she moves on pretty quickly with her life and doesn't daunt on it like me. And even with all her weaknesses, she's definately one of the best people I've met. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oGFykLHuI/AAAAAAAAAH4/g_upllZsFXc/s1600-h/NDP+032.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 191px; height: 145px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oGFykLHuI/AAAAAAAAAH4/g_upllZsFXc/s200/NDP+032.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150435820394192610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;u&gt;Tan&lt;/u&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jo&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ee &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This girl is definately one of the most sarcastic people I've met. Although, at times, there are rare moments of her acting wild and goofy and out of place. She can be really mean at times but she never really means it. And yes, we've been through a lot of crap together, but it seems like she is always there to eye my every movement, and it's hard to admit but I am grateful for knowing her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oHXykLHvI/AAAAAAAAAIA/-ACJpmX9OKw/s1600-h/IMG_0859.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 192px; height: 144px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oHXykLHvI/AAAAAAAAAIA/-ACJpmX9OKw/s200/IMG_0859.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150437229143465714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sarah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Piggy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;u&gt;Lee&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This girl, is hilarious. Most of the time, you see her stressing over work and studying very hard. Other times, you see her laughing at her own jokes and madly doing the most random stuff. This girl is really determined in everything she does, and is good in chinese :X Most of the time, she acts as a really good friend and listens to my every word. She is the most aware of what happens to me and is one of the first people I'll turn to. I'm really happy I'm her friend and despite all that has happened over the year(s) she still remains a great friend :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ina&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;SMELLY &lt;/span&gt;&lt;u&gt;Lin&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have a picture, but I definately have something to say. She is definately the most persistant person I've ever met. Always making sure she gets something out from, well at least, me. She listens to me even though I'm sure it's a bore, I'm sure I won't be able to stand myself /: She's a great friend and a fun person to talk to(: One thing that annoys me though, is her thinking that I'm beyond even skinny and that she's fat. Though I'm sure it isn't true, I can never win that debate. (I never win when I'm against her anyway) Even so, she's one of the greatest friends I have (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oKDikLHwI/AAAAAAAAAII/T8P9ZB17ilQ/s1600-h/IMG_0722.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oKDikLHwI/AAAAAAAAAII/T8P9ZB17ilQ/s200/IMG_0722.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150440179785998082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Andrea&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;BJ&lt;/span&gt; &lt;u&gt;Wong&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This girl, is definately one of the most cheerful girls I've met. Apparently because of people like her I've become more chirpy, not that it's bad. She has changed a lot from the big buck-toothed bully to the nicest buck-toothed friend :D She points out her own flaws and tries very hard to change and checks consistently whether she has changed for the better or the worse. At times, she doubts herself and needs to be reminded that she should be happy with who she is. I'm happy I got to know her better and she's really a defination of a good friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oLKCkLHxI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/p5GF_hJPnsI/s1600-h/IMG_0708.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oLKCkLHxI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/p5GF_hJPnsI/s200/IMG_0708.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150441390966775570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Joyce&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Duckie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;u&gt; Loo(loo)&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This girl is a very happy girl. She's also someone that doesn't swear at all. She's been a great bus partner to keep me company while going home. Even though she goofs around and laughs a lot, there's also a side of her which is more serious and never fails so comfort when I'm down. From meanie to friendly is kind of a big deal and I'm happy I got to know her better. She's a great friend and definately the best person to bully Bj (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oM8SkLHyI/AAAAAAAAAIY/hNQxGxo6HB4/s1600-h/IMG_1110.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oM8SkLHyI/AAAAAAAAAIY/hNQxGxo6HB4/s200/IMG_1110.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150443353766829858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Denise&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sandrea&lt;/span&gt;&lt;u&gt; (Aka  S&amp;amp;D)&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The two of them really brighten my days in school every morning. The two of them are always chirpy and jumpy every morning and that's why they cheer me up. The two are really close and are inseparable. They're really fun to be with and being able to be Denise's partner and standing behind Sanrea is really an honor. To laugh when they do silly things and making me do silly things with them was really fun and I'll definately miss being with them. I'm happy that I got to know them and having the China trip to know them better was great (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oOVikLHzI/AAAAAAAAAIg/SdYIHpgCuvY/s1600-h/IMG_0997.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oOVikLHzI/AAAAAAAAAIg/SdYIHpgCuvY/s200/IMG_0997.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150444887070154546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Rachel&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;TARD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;u&gt; Loh&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though we've only got to know each other better recently, this girl has been a joy to talk to. Being her roomate and knowing her weird habbits have been great. Knowing her from the girl who reads under the table during lesson and loves anime to the tard that loves anime and reads under the table during lesson was really fun. Her weird sense of humor, her weird brother that sings and also her randomness is what makes her really unique. I'm happy I got to know her and I hope we can still continue to communicate even though we're in different classes xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Clarissa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;aaaa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;u&gt; Phua&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's been great to shout and call for during this whole last year. Ranting about how we're going to die this year for most of the GB-related things that are going to happen has been great. Also, knowing that her cyber-self and self-self are two totally different people was really suprising for me. She's been great to talk to and also great to relate to. Although we're not very close, I like talking to her. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oQpikLH0I/AAAAAAAAAIo/Zq50a8o2yL4/s1600-h/IMG_1107.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oQpikLH0I/AAAAAAAAAIo/Zq50a8o2yL4/s200/IMG_1107.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150447429690793794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Andrea&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ang&lt;/span&gt; &lt;u&gt;Jingshi&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you saw in the previous post, this girl is definately is someone special. Sticking with me through everthing since we were 8, she's been the bestest friend ever. I'm glad I know her and I'm still her friend and that even though we went through a lot through the last year, we're still close. I hope that another year apart wouldn't change anything and that she'll still be that awesome friend she is to me (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oS5ykLH1I/AAAAAAAAAIw/4gI1ECtIr84/s1600-h/DSC00041.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oS5ykLH1I/AAAAAAAAAIw/4gI1ECtIr84/s200/DSC00041.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150449907886923602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darien&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Loser&lt;/span&gt;&lt;u&gt; Oh&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's going to be hard to say this but, I'm kinda happy he's my brother.  I remember asking my mum if I could have a brother, and soon he popped out. Although he is very violent and very irritating at times, I guess he's a joy to have around. A pro at tennis and kicking my ass all the time kind of sucks but when I beat him at baseball, now that kinda rocks. He's the only one that can stand me when I throw my tantrums and knows how to react. He's my brother and I love him so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oTiCkLH2I/AAAAAAAAAI4/-KfeJfSqa2Y/s1600-h/Picture+023.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oTiCkLH2I/AAAAAAAAAI4/-KfeJfSqa2Y/s200/Picture+023.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150450599376658274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Timothy&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Perverted&lt;/span&gt;&lt;u&gt; Heng&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This guy might not be my brother, but he kinda is like my evil twin. Always there to help me when we try to piss his sister off and also to grumble when we have to do work. He's definately some perverted freak but he's also nice in a funny way. Always goofing and making a fool out of himself, he's not afraid to do the craziest things that I'll never do. Also, he never fails to make me laugh. And like what all twins do sometimes, they fight, but we still manage to get to a point where we both agree with each other. Being his better half is really kinda fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oUvSkLH3I/AAAAAAAAAJA/R0j5hGv0bmI/s1600-h/Image014.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oUvSkLH3I/AAAAAAAAAJA/R0j5hGv0bmI/s200/Image014.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150451926521552754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lorraine&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Godsis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;u&gt; Ang&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The long-haired girl on the left is someone that I'm really thankful for. Getting to know my godsister more and more has been really fun so far. I used to dread going there to see her but now I really look forward to it. All those late night chats and gossiping have been really fun. Sneaking to play maple for a while and climbing in and out of windows during hide-and-seek are priceless memories. I'm happy she's my godsister and a good friend (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oV6ykLH4I/AAAAAAAAAJI/ifNbIdoaTW4/s1600-h/Image020.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oV6ykLH4I/AAAAAAAAAJI/ifNbIdoaTW4/s200/Image020.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150453223601676162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Cedric&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Saxyon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;u&gt; Ang&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That little boy from who knows how long ago is not really like that anymore. Having so go there and see him sing funny songs and do weird dances is actually quite entertaining. He's definately the weirdest godbrother anyone can ask for. I guess without him doing his random dance moves and saying random statements would make my stay there more boring. I'm actually kinda glad he's my godbrother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that sums it up. Have fun in school tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-777295037671815308?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/777295037671815308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=777295037671815308' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/777295037671815308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/777295037671815308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2008/01/happy-new-year-everyone-this-kind-of.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3oEhikLHtI/AAAAAAAAAHw/vthlmUO8yQE/s72-c/IMG_1125.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6819780661942236823.post-3359081408619386010</id><published>2007-12-31T00:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:00:52.130+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANDREA ANG JING SHI! :DD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3fB3SkLHsI/AAAAAAAAAHo/HSqkwUAdeQE/s1600-h/IMG_0996.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 188px; height: 142px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3fB3SkLHsI/AAAAAAAAAHo/HSqkwUAdeQE/s200/IMG_0996.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149797854541979330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm sorry there wasn't an individual shot of her so yeah. You kinda can figure out which one is me. Heh. I look gross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, have a smashing birthday! :D I'll give you your present on 2nd of January 2008. Yes I love rubbing things in even though I'm the one that would be lying in the deathbed.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;While browsing through the pictures, I saw some things that I really need to get rid off. I got her out of my system, it's time to erase all the memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to get my tooth out. It's like hanging off my gum. Ew. The taste of blood is disgusting while I'm at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm excited for school! Only for one reason:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WANT TO GIVE AWAY BJ'S CHRISTMAS CARD SO BADLY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, don't you remember? I attached a photo of BJ the yellow dino on it (from Barney, yet another probable santanic childhood icon). Anyway, it's so freaking funny and cute, I can't wait to see the reaction on her face, since I haven't heard from her in a loooong time. Sigh. I kinda miss her, yes I miss Andrea Wong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I kinda want to see everyone again. And give away all the presents I owe people. Speaking of which, I wonder if Ina really got my album for me. (: I'm almost on the verge of getting it myself. I really want their album! D:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, she's getting a penguin from me. HAHA. It's the best I can find, I'm so so sorry Ina. ): I promise a better birthday present! Which reminds me, how's rosie?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to get over with it and just get back to school already. Because I hate waiting, which kind of sucks. I want it to be hear so I can feel normal again, instead of going "It's (blank) days to when school starts!" to everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I haven't started studying and I feel bad for myself. To have school starting means no more computer time until at least 8 or 9.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I want to know who my teachers are. I like first days of school even though I hate them at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm talking a whole lot of crap here but I'm tired and it's 12:16 AM. I want to sleep after this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And anyway later will be some family day and then Uncle Hun's place for New Year so I won't post till one day before school opens. Yes, that's me rubbing things in again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hapyp New Year everyone (who's out there. I know I'm probably wishing myself for my dead blog is ..well dead)! I can't wait to see everyone again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-3359081408619386010?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/3359081408619386010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=3359081408619386010' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/3359081408619386010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/3359081408619386010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2007/12/happy-birthday-andrea-ang-jing-shi-dd.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R3fB3SkLHsI/AAAAAAAAAHo/HSqkwUAdeQE/s72-c/IMG_0996.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6819780661942236823.post-7685340495903069640</id><published>2007-12-30T18:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T20:33:13.358+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay, I changed my mind, I kind of want Looking for Alaska instead. Heh. It got gold anyway and I should be reading his first book before trying Abundance of Katherines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.amazon.com/images/P/0525475060.01.LZZZZZZZ.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 120px; height: 181px;" src="http://images.amazon.com/images/P/0525475060.01.LZZZZZZZ.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On another related news, I'm addicted to their YouTube videos! Which is why I shall show you two of my favourite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/iLcF_1STyKI&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/iLcF_1STyKI&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="200" width="300"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ma7xpbGEjl0&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ma7xpbGEjl0&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="200" width="300"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Omg. They're freaking hilarious. The January 1st one is funny too. :D By the way, that's only one of the two brothers. That's Hank. John's the one who wrote the book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am going crazy with what my eyebrows are doing right now! Whoo!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, let me give you some background information. The two of them are brothers that decided to not communicate through text (instant messaging, emails, smses, etc.) and only communicated through vloging (for those who don't know what that is, vloging is video blogging) and calling occasionally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If one fails to return a video on a weekday, punishments will be performed, which is freaking hilarious to watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Anyway, back to the point, they're kinda funny to watch. I don't know why.Which is also the reason why I haven't studied. Heh. I will after dinner!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on, I'm deproving in Baseball, hence the need of more practice. I'm afraid if I study too much for PSLE I won't have time for Wii, which is why I will fit a time slot for Wii practicing time. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like how I can't get to a skill level of 800 and over! My skill level is currenly... 756. Which is quite good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid I won't be able to live my fantasy if I don't practice. Then I'll be like a real sucker for ball games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a I have an urge to give you the most depressing news, which most of you should know too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School's starting in 3 days. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;[edit]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I know how watching videos consistently really gives me a headache which is why I haven't really got to studying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And sleeping at 4AM in the morning last night/this morning didn't really help either. So if I do indeed study, your promised evidence will show itself tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also with my awesome evidence that I kind of rock in baseball.&lt;br /&gt;[/edit]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-7685340495903069640?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/7685340495903069640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=7685340495903069640' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7685340495903069640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7685340495903069640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2007/12/okay-i-changed-my-mind-i-kind-of-want.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-2222039117771168399</id><published>2007-12-29T18:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T03:00:32.490+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>SANDREA: Haha. SORRY! I'll try my best but I'm not really good in doing such editing. You can try doing this to make the fonts bigger though. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ctrl &lt;/span&gt;+ &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;+&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;LORRAINE: What? Oh my gosh. Haha. The next time I go to your house, I'll pwn you in Wii sports. Do you have it? I think you should (: I'm going to start practicing and kick godsis ass:D&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;I'm editing the earlier post so if you're wondering where it is, IT'S GONE:D&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;JoEe's current display picture has reminded me of how much I miss wearing my school uniform. I'm serious, I actually find MG's school uniform quite awesome (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, for my next Christmas (or birthday present) I want this book&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sparksflyup.com/images/katherines.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 135px; height: 179px;" src="http://www.sparksflyup.com/images/katherines.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Actually, I only want to read it because it was written by this guy that posts youtube videos with his brother for a year (this year, 2007). I discovered them only recently and they're kinda funny so I want to check out his book and read it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So whoever can find it can get it for me. I doubt you can find it in SG though, which sucks. One reason why I hate our country (please don't kill me). I love Singapore but not for the fact that we're so limited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, check them out on &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=vlogbrothers"&gt;youtube&lt;/a&gt; when you're bored. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's actually 2:55 AM right now as I am editing this post. I got my iPod back from Rachel (thank you) and also ate ice cream even though I shouldn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apart from that, I, the pro (of this house) in Wii Baseball have reached a skill level of 702 :D Which, I admit, was hard. Also, I got a new record of 25 hits and a 20 hits combo. I RULE. But I'm sure Cedric will beat me, which is the reason why I'm practicing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, if you need to know an embarassing truth, I can't hit balls (haha) for nuts in real life. Ask the people who have witnessed me missing the ball countless times during softball. So this is why I'm living a fantasy in the Wii world. Muahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And also, I got 11-0 for one game I played, mercy rule :D I was born for Wii Baseball. Not baseball in reality. :X&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to more a more irritating truth, I haven't studied today. Which is why I am going to tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise. And I will take a picture of me studying and evidence that I did. I will have my brother as a witness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I don't post that picture tomorrow however, whoever who still bothers to read this blog may shoot me whenever the next time is that they see me. By shoot I mean punish, I wish to live till I'm 21 at least.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;I hope I don't fall ill for sleeping too late /:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-2222039117771168399?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/2222039117771168399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=2222039117771168399' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2222039117771168399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2222039117771168399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2007/12/sandrea-haha.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-4900363731881056353</id><published>2007-12-28T20:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-29T01:55:43.801+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Because I never will, love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My butt hurts now, along with my arms. The lack of exercise has it's consequences. Sigh. Right now even walking becomes a big problem because of my 'butt sore'. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watched National Treasure : The Book of Secrets today with Rachel :D And her dad and brother. It was a good movie (: It was quite exciting and quite humorous at times. If you haven't caught it it, it's a good movie to catch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, at Plaza Sing we went to play the (very loud and bombarded with people) arcade and since we really didn't want to play the serious games, we ended up trying our luck at the useless machines that never work. Suprisingly, Rachel managed to pick the stuff toy without dropping it and got it for a prize(: While I tried to play the sweet machine and got some mentos mints. Haha.  I guess it was pretty fun, though I really wanted that eyore pillow. I'm not surprised the machine was a cheater though, but still tried my luck on it a few more times. Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School's starting so soon! It's already 28th. 5 more days to first day of school, which I hate the most. Adding to the fact that next year is a major year. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having a much older sibling really kills you sometimes. Because with Mer having A levels, I feel stupid when I worry so much about PSLE, thus feeling that I am overreacting with the whole study-everyday thing. Do I really need to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, it'll make me feel better if I do. I'm already quite slack because most of the people I know did hardcore studying during this holiday while I did nothing at all. Then again, even though it seems like it's just PSLE, I guess it wouldn't hurt to have some discipline right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also want to feel accomplished anyway. Even though it seems to me, right now, that it's just PSLE, I want to feel good when I recieve the grade next year so I'll just study really hard, even if I look crazy and people think I'm overreacting. Whatever. Even so, chances of me keeping to my study plan is so low (yes thank you Ina for discouraging me, nah, I'm just kidding, please don't kill me or get angry). But I feel that way too, after what you said. It is all too true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's worth the try I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 1st January 2008, I will no longer be able to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Spend late nights staring at the computer screen even though there's really nothing to do on the computer&lt;br /&gt;2) Wake up at 12 and skip breakfast and jump into lunch&lt;br /&gt;3) Sleep at 3 AM in the morning and not worry about waking up the next day&lt;br /&gt;4) Not worry about not finishing homework&lt;br /&gt;5) Not worry about not studying&lt;br /&gt;6) Not worry about anything school related&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... And many more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I will have to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Worry how I'm going to submit my stupid CCA form because I passed the deadline. (Rachel told me not to worry about it but I can't help it. I don't want to not be able to go for GB just because of my late application. I know I was irresponsible for not remembering but even Mrs Chong said it'll be okay to submit it next year. Sigh. Hope I still can make a late entry. :S)&lt;br /&gt;2) Wake up at freaking 5:50 AM in the morning and sleep early so that I can concentrate during class&lt;br /&gt;3) Be forced to eat breakfast, my least favourite meal of the day&lt;br /&gt;4) Sit a bus home&lt;br /&gt;5) Worrying about Ting Xie :X&lt;br /&gt;6) Worrying about not completing my homework&lt;br /&gt;7) Worrying about not completing tution homework&lt;br /&gt;8) Worrying about my procrastination and failure to study&lt;br /&gt;9) Worrying about raising the flag in term 1&lt;br /&gt;10) Worrying about loosing one piece of my uniform and swearing in the room while looking for it&lt;br /&gt;11) Carrying my heavy bag to school&lt;br /&gt;12) Have awkward conversations with people who I really don't want to see any time sooner&lt;br /&gt;13) Return Dawn's lock to her (personally)&lt;br /&gt;14) Giving presents to Joyce and Bj and not giving Kim any&lt;br /&gt;15) Worrying about making a bad impression to my future teachers&lt;br /&gt;16) Worrying about having a grumpy Chinese tution and school teacher (Gah)&lt;br /&gt;17) Worrying about Chinese itself&lt;br /&gt;18) Maths itself&lt;br /&gt;19) Piano practical in March&lt;br /&gt;20) Practicing for piano&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...And many more. I will bore you with my 1000 reasons why I don't want school to start. But there's a brighter side that'll take my mind off these reasons. Things I'm aiming and looking forward to next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) New teachers and building a good impression on them.&lt;br /&gt;2) Being able to go for GB and making sure the damn form can be submitted&lt;br /&gt;3) Friends and fellowship&lt;br /&gt;4) Improving on my English and try to perfect it&lt;br /&gt;5) Getting to know my Chinese tutor&lt;br /&gt;6) Scoring for Chinese&lt;br /&gt;7) Studying for Science and doing well in it&lt;br /&gt;8) Writing science notes :D&lt;br /&gt;9) Studying for Maths&lt;br /&gt;10) Scoring for Maths (:&lt;br /&gt;11) Feeling satisfied with my grades in the end and feeling relieved it's over&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it can't compare to my list of dreads but still, I am thinking of that more than my what I'm not looking forward to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking forward for a freasher start, and to change my bad behaviours over the next year. Making sure I think twice before saying or doing. And to make more time for God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also I'm looking forward to spending time with Daniel (the nano) and my books and walking Pebby and jogging and exercise to keep myself fit because I will be gulping down chips while I'm studying. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And looking forward for another proper year with my mum, away from noise with the peaceful. I'm quite happy for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also going to make sure I have time for my guitar (which I wanted to learn yet haven't touched it in ages. Sigh. And piano which I do have a passion but hate to practice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll work on all of this (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, I'm worrying for the CCA form. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I know that after all this (/that) there will be something waiting for me if I do well and put my effort to it. Saying is one thing but doing it is another and I hope to be able to achieve what I promised myself, and others. I must remember, there are things waiting for me at the other end and if I want them badly enough, I'll have to work for it (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On and less depressing and boring note, coming this Monday/Tuesday I'm spending the new year with dad, as always, to go to uncle Hun's place to do random stuff while my dad gets drunk and have fun with his friends. I guess it's kinda fun there as I get older, I hope this one would be okay and not as boring. Daniel will company me then, if it does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before that there's going to be some family day for my dad's office people at SICC. Bowling and karaoke with the kids for us. Which Daniel has been dragged in. Brrf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of which, I need to renew my microsoft office to help Rebecca with the powerpoint thingy. Sigh&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;Rachel, I hope you like your present. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved yours (: Thanks Rachel :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-4900363731881056353?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/4900363731881056353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=4900363731881056353' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/4900363731881056353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/4900363731881056353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2007/12/because-i-never-will-love-my-butt-hurts.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-6104156237531627310</id><published>2007-12-27T17:59:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T21:13:30.655+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My arms ache from playing the wii. Too much baseball. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ironicly, I am the champion of baseball on the wii (ignoring the fact that Cedric pwned me) but in real life I suck at ball games. Especially one involving a bat and a ball. D:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did another 10 pages of 100 grammar worksheets. Haha. Minimal amount of work though, but I am going to do vocab later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like playing the monopoly but there's no one to play with! I need to put my present into good use. Shall force Darien to play with me later. I'm such a great sister.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[edit]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, yes, YES! I uploaded my favourite Gossip Girl episode into my nano.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rock, :D&lt;br /&gt;[/edit]&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Make my heart melt.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-6104156237531627310?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/6104156237531627310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=6104156237531627310' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/6104156237531627310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/6104156237531627310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-arms-ache-from-playing-wii.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-1515840358031831013</id><published>2007-12-26T23:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T20:56:43.750+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today was quite eventful. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woke up at 11 plus and then went to Macs for lunch. After that my dad sent me home. Played Wii with Darien and got quite frustrated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh, I need anger management.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Changed, ate dinner and went for the ACS concert. We were a little late though, heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was quite good. (: Lorraine and I were trying to figure out where we heard one of the songs. ...And it turned out to be a Mozart-turned-hymn called What Child is This. The piece by Mozart is Greensleeves. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm planning to do my Grammar book before going to bed. *Yawns*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My whole body's aching. Must be the soccer, which I also got frustrated over. It's something to do with loosing and sports. Man. Oh no, I don't want to be a sore looser. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Must change must change.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Year's Day is coming. Time to take out the books and do some serious mugging. Oh boy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-1515840358031831013?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/1515840358031831013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=1515840358031831013' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/1515840358031831013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/1515840358031831013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2007/12/today-was-quite-eventful.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-1045375581100957670</id><published>2007-12-25T14:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-25T21:58:56.612+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>New year, new perspectives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 days left and school's going to start again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to go to school and face everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New changes, new class, new teachers, fresh start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I won't trust someone too much, I'll try to be a better person&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A better friend to the people who are dear to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, yes, study will be top priority next year. Yes Ina, I'm going to prove to you that&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I'll keep to my study plan&lt;br /&gt;2) I'll get that 260&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll make sure of it. Just watch me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No more distractions, no more excuses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus Daniel (My new nano named after Dan) will keep me company through mugtopia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'll only be online for 1/2 an hour for facebook (: And 45minutes for selective days to watch Gossip Girl, Grey's and Heroes. Whenever they came out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It'll be over soon, I promise&lt;br /&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/6819780661942236823-1045375581100957670?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/1045375581100957670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=1045375581100957670' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/1045375581100957670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/1045375581100957670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2007/12/ive-got-my-nano-babyyyd-daniel-is-going.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-1477933312593449721</id><published>2007-12-24T21:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:00:53.450+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Tessa's a happy girl!&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;Happy Christmas Eve Guys! (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm done with 7 Christmas cards (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Andrea's&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2-y_ikLHhI/AAAAAAAAAGU/l5zF0lsSXIY/s1600-h/Image033.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 128px; height: 171px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2-y_ikLHhI/AAAAAAAAAGU/l5zF0lsSXIY/s200/Image033.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147529703787798034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's quite cute right? (:&lt;br /&gt;2) Sarah's&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2-zNCkLHiI/AAAAAAAAAGc/_kTkrKrk-Ko/s1600-h/Image034.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 131px; height: 175px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2-zNCkLHiI/AAAAAAAAAGc/_kTkrKrk-Ko/s200/Image034.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147529935716032034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Haha, Sarah, I know you like piglet :D&lt;br /&gt;3) Fiona's&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2-zfCkLHjI/AAAAAAAAAGk/b58Dv2uXJa8/s1600-h/Image035.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 188px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2-zfCkLHjI/AAAAAAAAAGk/b58Dv2uXJa8/s200/Image035.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147530244953677362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I don't know how the lighting got that bad but it's supposed to be purple, not dark blue. With gold stars(:&lt;br /&gt;4) Jo Ee's&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2-z6ikLHkI/AAAAAAAAAGs/1XZVRLbz-Bg/s1600-h/Image036.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 128px; height: 164px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2-z6ikLHkI/AAAAAAAAAGs/1XZVRLbz-Bg/s200/Image036.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147530717400079938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;One of my favourites(: Red with a white bow and white polka dots (:&lt;br /&gt;5) Rachel's&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2-0gSkLHlI/AAAAAAAAAG0/6NxZZQdBUv0/s1600-h/Image037.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 129px; height: 170px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2-0gSkLHlI/AAAAAAAAAG0/6NxZZQdBUv0/s200/Image037.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147531365940141650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My dearest TARD:D Green with silver tinkerbells xD It IS from Disney after all (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh the next one is my favourite. :D&lt;br /&gt;6) BJ&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2-0gSkLHmI/AAAAAAAAAG8/nBxLMHthjE0/s1600-h/Image038.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 169px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2-0gSkLHmI/AAAAAAAAAG8/nBxLMHthjE0/s200/Image038.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147531365940141666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;HAHAHA. Can't you see the BJ?! It's so freaking funny can. BJ YOU BETTER LOVE ME.&lt;br /&gt;7) Joyce&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2-0gikLHnI/AAAAAAAAAHE/dS_S3ZngVhY/s1600-h/Image039.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 171px; height: 134px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2-0gikLHnI/AAAAAAAAAHE/dS_S3ZngVhY/s200/Image039.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147531370235108978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Haha. Joyce's contents are a little special from the rest. (:&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;Presents:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I got a purple long-sleeved shirt from Armani Exchange. Haha (:&lt;br /&gt;2. Cluedo - Pocket version&lt;br /&gt;3. Sims 2 H&amp;amp;M fashion stuff&lt;br /&gt;4. Twinkle Toes - Nail polish kit :D (One of the funniest gifts I ever got. :DD)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and finally&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*drumroll*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SPONGEBOB MONOPOLY! I'm officially a SPONGEBOB fan can?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2-31CkLHpI/AAAAAAAAAHU/NOOkXDkesuo/s1600-h/Image047.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2-31CkLHpI/AAAAAAAAAHU/NOOkXDkesuo/s200/Image047.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147535020957310610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got the Patrick stuff toy, my phone theme is Spongebob, I have a spongebob towel, slippers and now the monopoly :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I RULE xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE LORRAINE, CEDERIC (Heh), TRICIA, IVAN AND DARIEN!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today they came over for our yearly Christmas get together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First on the menu was Wii Sports(: Lorraine, Tricia and I went to fool around with it while the boys played maple xD After that was dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next on the menu was our CLASSIC game of HIDE &amp;amp; SEEK :D The first seeker was Darien. Lorraine, Trica and I rushed upstairs (we were on the second floor) and hid in Nic's room. I stood somewhere near the toilet bowl cause it was too dark to see anything, I just stood in the highest possible area available in the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Darien came in and caught us ): I fell into the toilet bowl, well, at least my foot did. After that we found Ivan and Cedric.. somewhere. I can't remember xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, CEDERIC was the seeker. We made him count on the third level cause there was nothing much there. Heh. Then after that I rushed, daringly, out to the balcony, and climbed over the railings. I hid on the narrow path which was damn scary. If I wasn't careful, I would have fell off and died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was the last to be found. (: While hiding, I wanted to check where they were, cause I was freaking nervous, so I went back to the balcony and tried to call for Brian. But he couldn't see where I was, which was quite funny. HAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yours truly was the seeker. The first person I found was Tricia, in the toilet. Next person was Ivan outside near the koi pond, the third and forth person was Cedric and Darien, in my mum's really long wadrobe and LAST BUT NOT LEAST, Lorraine hiding where the AIRCON VENT (? Is that what it's called?) was. OMG. Hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Darien was the seeker again. I tried to hide in a really small gap but I couldn't so I ran into my parents room and climbed over their balcony. I knew it was really easy to find me if I just stood there so I sat on the aircon vent slid across and hid between the two aircon vents, in a really small gap. Again, if I moved I might have fallen off. THAT was the scariest place I've ever hid. Ivan was shocked he scolded me. Boo ):&lt;  Then after that we found Lorraine  behind my door. She was skinny enough to hide there. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cedric was the seeker, AGAIN, and I hid downstairs in the cupboard. I was second last to be found, nothing interesting happened though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I know I don't really make sense so if you want to see where I hid come to my house. Haha)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Third on the list was another classic, BLOW WIND BLOW(: It was quite funny cause we made up stupid things. And Ivan was always the one in the center. xD Last round, before we went to eat cake, Cederic was like "Blow all those who wore FBTS before", and I was wearing them. Pffft. Tricia had no idea so she was like huh? Haha. So I modeled for them (: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ate cake and icecream and proceeded to open presents and then we played spongebob monopoly (: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the funniest senario: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ivan: *throws dice*&lt;br /&gt;Me &amp;amp; Darien: "Double, throw again"&lt;br /&gt;Lorraine: "I hope you get tripple double"&lt;br /&gt;Ivan: "Walao curse me" *throws dice*&lt;br /&gt;Me, Darien &amp;amp; Lorraine: "HAHAHA SECOND DOUBLE!"&lt;br /&gt;Ivan: "What the hell. Walao eh" *Throws dice*&lt;br /&gt;Me, Darien &amp;amp; Lorraine: "HAHAHA, REALLY TRIPPLE DOUBLE LEH!"&lt;br /&gt;Ivan: *Fumes, puts token in jail* &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lorraine: "I bet I'll sure get retribution" *Throws dice* (The figure shows an 6 and 3/5)&lt;br /&gt;Tessa: "Heng ah"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;Lorraine: *Throws dice*&lt;br /&gt;Me: "HAHA, It's a double!"&lt;br /&gt;Lorraine: "OMG, HAHA"&lt;br /&gt;Ivan: *chants* "Double, double, double..."&lt;br /&gt;Lorraine: *Throws dice*&lt;br /&gt;Me: "OMG ANOTHER DOUBLE"&lt;br /&gt;Lorraine: "Oh shit"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Hurry take 200 first! Hurry take 200!!"&lt;br /&gt;Lorraine: "Oh yeah hor, later cannot if I throw another double"&lt;br /&gt;Ivan: *Continues chanting*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Anticipation-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loraine: *Throws Dice*&lt;br /&gt;Ivan &amp;amp; Me: "HAHAHAHA, IT'S REALLY A DOUBLE!"&lt;br /&gt;Lorraine: "HAHAHA, OMG!" *Puts token in jail*  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xDD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that we went down and they had to go. Boo. (Tricia left earler on during Monopoly) &lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cedric: "Gas went into my nose"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Haha. He was drinking coke xDD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lent Lorraine Nineteen Minutes (:&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;Nano!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-1477933312593449721?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/1477933312593449721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=1477933312593449721' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/1477933312593449721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/1477933312593449721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2007/12/tessas-happy-girl-happy-christmas-eve.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2-y_ikLHhI/AAAAAAAAAGU/l5zF0lsSXIY/s72-c/Image033.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6819780661942236823.post-8702604129813509776</id><published>2007-12-23T19:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-23T19:12:08.745+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Where everything's nothing, without you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;In the end we didn't go to eat prata but we ate Clarity's (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we almost got a new dog too, boo. Haha. The puppy Shitzu's were quite cute too :D&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not really looking forward to the party, quote dreads, dreads quote, and so I'll lock myself in the room and study, as always /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my books look too precious to be touched! ): I guess I'll do the English books after I get the grammar and the Buper PSLE papers (: Maybe tomorrow, I'll walk down to Popular myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy early Christmas guys, I want my nano.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-8702604129813509776?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/8702604129813509776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=8702604129813509776' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/8702604129813509776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/8702604129813509776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2007/12/where-everythings-nothing-without-you.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-3176611782298983380</id><published>2007-12-23T00:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-23T01:26:21.213+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>18th post. How pathatic /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My two nerd-of-a-friends are going "YF CAMP ROX" on my facebook. Gosh. Coughcan'tbelievetheirinyouthorgoingtobe13cough&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OHMYGOSH. A cat is on my balcony! *Locks doors*&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I'm going to wake up at 10 to eat prata with Nic and Mer then we're going to Bishan (I think) for a mani. Haha. After that, they're gonna follow me to fulfil my Clarity Cafe craving :D. Greedy much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then we're going to have a eve of chirstmas eve party with the father's (step dad) side. *Dreads, dreads*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, today I managed to buy assestment books to get my 250 (probably, and hoping 260) for PSLE. I must.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mer and I looked quite hilarious in Popular cause the both of us (me, enthusiasticly xP) were the only non-mothers choosing my P6 assesment books. And since I carried them around, I looked quite nerdy (and studious). The mothers around were picking one or two PSLE guide books while I had a handful. Of course, I recieved a certain amount of stares and chuckles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mer even wanted to call my mum to ask her which Science guide I should get cause I loved both. I really need to buck up on SCIENCE anyway. And we couldn't decide which Maths exercise book so she made me do it on the spot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And.. I DID IT:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we paid. The cashier laughed at us. Mer and I mused at how if I become the top girl the cashier will go "OMG! I KNOW THAT GIRL! She's the one that bought the mountain of assestment books!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in the end, I got quite a few. And I'm going to try to complete them by midterm and get some more (the ones I had to put back). I've already metally planned it out. On weekdays, everyday after school, I'll do work until 6 (at least 2 subjects a day) and then jog/cycle around the estate until dinner. Watch a little bit of TV (and possibly fit in some piano :X) and then do some reading and writing of notes then use the computer for 1/2 an hour then go to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On weekends, I'll study till the evening, exercise then use the computer until bed time (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I shall try to stick to this. Sigh, I really need to if I want 260 and be a part of the 'Express gang' (long story).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note, I managed to finish packing my room. Now it's so much neater (and not cluttered, like what Ina said when she saw how messy my desk was). Except my desk still is quite cluttered because I was &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;trying&lt;/span&gt; to do Chirstmas cards and presents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of which, Christmas is around the corner. NANO:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then school will start. *Pouts*&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;The year has been really eventful. I realise. Begining of the year, I was super depressed cause I was freaking afraid of Bj and Joyce, now we're pretty close(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there was NDC and I was a social outcast in class. Always late for everything. Pfft. and I was known as 'the girl who was marching in the quadrangle'. GOSH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then exams, I nearly (by one mark) failed english and got tution, which is great! I love tution, and found a love for English and a hate for Maths.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, nothing much happened until my mum told me that she was GETTING MARRIED. Which I remember being very shocked and zoomed to use to computer and told the whole wide world (No lah, just Ina. HAHA). They got married and persuaded me to go back and I did. Told my dad, had a long conversation, and then made a final decision to move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They fixed my room and voila!, I had a room to myself. I got used to it and decorated it nicely with all my photos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that all I can remember is exams, exams and more exams. Heh. Apart from that, everything was quite boring. Ah, yes, also the National Day Competition and JLTC, which was nothing much either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, all I can say is, 2007 was a great year. I made some new friends and lost some old friends, but that's life as it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The people I made friends with are awesome. And the ones I lost, were great then, but what's there to regret now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for moving in with my mum, life's been much easier and MUCH MORE peaceful. Of course there are a few stuff that don't go along here and there, but it's really starting to get a lot homier/homeyer (is that how you spell it?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually like it here(: and I have no regrets for moving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for next year, I know there's going to be a lot of changes but all I can do is pray that the ones that matter to me the most now, still will. And that I'll be determined to study much harder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be getting a private chinese tutor, which hopefully won't be a grumpy old lady that will hate me. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I have to raise the flag. Shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apart from that, I really need to exercise. I'm just growing fat. SHIT. *Sighs in desperation*. I know someone's cheering though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So pray that you won't be seeing me update much from now on for that means I'm being a mugger at home:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also hope that I can make Mer wake up when she goes home so that I won't sit in the living room waiting for her so that we can study xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P/s: I need to improve on my spelling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-3176611782298983380?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/3176611782298983380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=3176611782298983380' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/3176611782298983380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/3176611782298983380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2007/12/18th-post.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-986324764010379147</id><published>2007-12-21T13:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-21T15:17:17.249+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I finally had the mood to post :D&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm back from HK. It was a good trip, but tiring as expected. And HK disneyland isn't as bad as I thought it would be(:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought presents for:&lt;br /&gt;Jo Ee&lt;br /&gt;Fiona&lt;br /&gt;Rachel&lt;br /&gt;Sarah&lt;br /&gt;Bj&lt;br /&gt;Clarissa&lt;br /&gt;Sandrea&lt;br /&gt;Denise&lt;br /&gt;Ina&lt;br /&gt;Andrea&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't expect much though, it's the thought that counts. And I thought of you (: The presents are quite cute though, but very generic xP&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got lots to do before the new term starts *gulp*.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Pack my room (which I am in the midst of)&lt;br /&gt;2) Write Chirstmas cards (for the selected few above to go with their presents)&lt;br /&gt;3) Buy studying materials for next year *groans* (To get my expected 250 and above for PSLE)&lt;br /&gt;4) Buy new stationary&lt;br /&gt;5) Pack my bag for next year&lt;br /&gt;6) DO SOME STUDYING&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking forward to my new nano to accompany me while I mug next year (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, Tessa will aim high and score high (; It's a promise I made for myself and the people who have faith in me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Quote Nic]&lt;strong&gt;You must do it for yourself&lt;/strong&gt;[/Quote Nic]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-986324764010379147?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/986324764010379147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=986324764010379147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/986324764010379147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/986324764010379147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-finally-had-mood-to-post-d-so-im-back.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-2788701622105994779</id><published>2007-12-14T23:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:00:54.713+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2KrDSkLHeI/AAAAAAAAAF8/ZP2GdF-eqT8/s1600-h/022.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2KrDSkLHeI/AAAAAAAAAF8/ZP2GdF-eqT8/s200/022.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143861797422046690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2KrDSkLHdI/AAAAAAAAAF0/cBwOaoSneEA/s1600-h/0000de3p.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2KrDSkLHdI/AAAAAAAAAF0/cBwOaoSneEA/s200/0000de3p.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143861797422046674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2KrDikLHfI/AAAAAAAAAGE/uUh6WQehG5I/s1600-h/DS-5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2KrDikLHfI/AAAAAAAAAGE/uUh6WQehG5I/s200/DS-5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143861801717014002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2KmpykLHbI/AAAAAAAAAFk/RfJEeijhqIY/s1600-h/gg19.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 101px; height: 101px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2KmpykLHbI/AAAAAAAAAFk/RfJEeijhqIY/s200/gg19.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143856961288871346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2KrDikLHgI/AAAAAAAAAGM/nhTLSVTpyl4/s1600-h/088.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2KrDikLHgI/AAAAAAAAAGM/nhTLSVTpyl4/s200/088.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143861801717014018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2Km-ikLHcI/AAAAAAAAAFs/hVUXXe7Murk/s1600-h/032a.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 102px; height: 102px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2Km-ikLHcI/AAAAAAAAAFs/hVUXXe7Murk/s200/032a.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143857317771156930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;So I think I'm all set for HK. I think I have all I need. I'm quite excited xD Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was made up of snatching icons from a serena and dan &lt;a href="http://community.livejournal.com/serena_dan"&gt;fansite&lt;/a&gt; and cutting my har (which now looks freaking weird).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers to the people who provided the icons &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talking to Rachel now (: LOVE YOU TARD!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[r@chi3]...angelofhell1334...angelsweet says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i mean when he sees me cry he goes&lt;br /&gt;"jie jie why u sad "&lt;br /&gt;its so creepy..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TESSA(:   -with everything i won't let this go says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHA&lt;br /&gt;awww&lt;br /&gt;so sweet&lt;/blockquote&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;Flying off! Coming back on the 19th! So don't ask me why I won't be logged in on msn or something like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love y'all (:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-2788701622105994779?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/2788701622105994779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=2788701622105994779' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2788701622105994779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/2788701622105994779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2007/12/so-i-think-im-all-set-for-hk.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2KrDSkLHeI/AAAAAAAAAF8/ZP2GdF-eqT8/s72-c/022.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6819780661942236823.post-4738010058113103383</id><published>2007-12-13T23:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:00:55.150+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Who is there left to trust?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;I'm leaving for HK in a two days :DD&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;Right now, Mer is sleeping beside me while I help Nic copy her files into 3 thumbdrives. It's real hard work /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, I'm also screwing around with her webcam. xD The things you do when you're bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143503923210901346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 172px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 125px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="116" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2FlkRPQV2I/AAAAAAAAAFM/zSloWn8xU0c/s200/tessa2.JPG" width="172" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143504580340897650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 180px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 120px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="116" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2FmKhPQV3I/AAAAAAAAAFU/j7GJdEgfsVc/s200/tessa3.JPG" width="188" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's so going to kill me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heh. Okay, I should really finish up what I was doing /:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-4738010058113103383?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/4738010058113103383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=4738010058113103383' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/4738010058113103383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/4738010058113103383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2007/12/who-is-there-left-to-trust-im-leaving.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGLIaMSY-4E/R2FlkRPQV2I/AAAAAAAAAFM/zSloWn8xU0c/s72-c/tessa2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6819780661942236823.post-7336400232625119415</id><published>2007-12-12T21:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T21:30:42.146+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I LOVE LORRAINE &amp;amp; CEDRIC :DD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bj&lt;/span&gt;: Of course you haven't been here for so long! You haven't visited this blog before eh? Haha, I know right. xP P6 HERE WE COME! T.T *Dreads, dreads*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Clarissa&lt;/span&gt;: HEY:DD&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm back from godsiblings' place! It was super fun/funny. Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We, played maple all day long xDDD. And stayed up till 4 AM to talk shit with Lorraine. Haha. &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Must show her my boring year book. The St. Nic's one is so colourful! Ours is so bleak, formal and boring T.T Pfft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm gonna be addicted to maple for a while. HEH. Cause when I'm bored there's gotta be something to do right? Call me a loser for all I care xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will sumarise the 'adventures with Lorraine and Cedric' tomorrow. I'm gonna talk to Rachel and download Maple. xDDD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-7336400232625119415?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/7336400232625119415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=7336400232625119415' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7336400232625119415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7336400232625119415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-love-lorraine-cedric-dd-bj-of-course.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-7882297487310466528</id><published>2007-12-10T00:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T00:35:19.675+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay, new wishlist. (Including of the stuff I know I'm getting)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Warning&lt;/span&gt;: I'm warning you that some (probably only one) thing that I'm getting is... expensive and no I'm not rich and spoilt. ): Say all you want but warning you, it's really bad to judge people from what you read when you don't even know the person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;1)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Nin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;s&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;eteen Minutes&lt;/span&gt; by &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jodi Picoult&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/s&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ongs of a Humpback Whale&lt;/span&gt; by&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Jodi Picoult&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) &lt;s&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sims 2 Bustin' Out&lt;/span&gt; by &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;EA Games&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/s&gt; (Guess what. I found it. Ha)&lt;br /&gt;4) &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sims 2 H&amp;amp;M Fashion stuff&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Expansion pack&lt;/span&gt; by &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;EA Games&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;5) &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sims 2 Four Season Expansion pack&lt;/span&gt; by &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;EA Games&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sims 2 Family stuff Expansion pack&lt;/span&gt; by &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;EA Games&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;7) &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Draw to Life (Nintendo DS)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;8) &lt;s&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Same Old Blood Rush with a New Touch&lt;/span&gt; by&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Cute Is What We Aim For &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/s&gt;(I don't even know whether I'm really getting it or Ina's just kidding with me. See how okay? If not I'll just ask my mum if she can get it for me online or something then I'll pay her back)&lt;br /&gt;9) &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Modern Minds and Pastimes&lt;/span&gt; by &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Click Five&lt;/span&gt; (Might be getting it. I'm not crossing it out because I MIGHT. Anyway Rachel has offered to send me all the songs online so it's kinda like Rachel's getting it for me xD)&lt;br /&gt;10) &lt;s&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ipod Nano &lt;/span&gt;by &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Apple &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/s&gt;(I'm getting the new one:D Big suprise my dad pulled on me. Refer to below for more details of my rant on my new nano :DD)&lt;br /&gt;11) &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Spongebob Monopoly&lt;/span&gt; ( (: )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay so we were actually talking about my brothers' present one morning (they're getting a X-box 360) and my and becca were thinking what we'd get for Christmas from my parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knowing that my parents there aren't the ones that'll spend a lot of money, we were expecting clothes or something small like my favourite books or a CD or something. But during lunch time I was talking about how we might; still trying to get Jo's iPod and then he spilled that I was getting a Nano.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh. My. Word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as much as I'm overjoyed, I'm kinda guilty. I've only had my other nano for at least a year. (I got it last christmas, I didn't even know /:) But it's not going to rot in my drawer I guess, my dad wants it to put all his songs. So in return, (since he's getting the new Nano for me) I'll wipe/clean and wrap it nicely with ribbon and clear the songs for him. It's the best I can do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad says he's not getting a Nano for becca. I hope he's not lying. I really don't want the same gift as her because it'll just be hell for me to help her put the songs in her nano, install iTunes in her (probably) new laptop/the desktop. I also might have to give her my songs and I really don't want to share it with her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call me selfish, meet her and you'll understand what I mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents are really getting generous lately. All I want from my mum is a shopping spree, but it probably won't happen /:&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://techdigest.tv/new-ipod-nano.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://techdigest.tv/new-ipod-nano.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's a really sexy small ipod. I love everything about it. From the fact that I can squint my eyes to watch videos and to the fact that I can store 1,000 songs (Dad got the 4GB one).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have a lot of songs so, more videos for me xD *Watches Gossip Girl, Heroes and Grey's in freakishly small screen*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just needa find a way to download the videos. I CAN STORE ELLEN  IN IT :DD!  Hee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's S$248. *Whistles*.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How the hell am I going to afford Jo's present? Sigh. Anyone else volunteers?&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember the conversation from the December 7th post? The girl who was talking to me didn't even know it was her. xDD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kinda expected that to happen but I didn't know she would read my blog /:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-7882297487310466528?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/7882297487310466528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=7882297487310466528' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7882297487310466528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7882297487310466528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2007/12/okay-new-wishlist.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-7661253263658824293</id><published>2007-12-08T18:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T09:19:47.124+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I feel more light-headed knowing that I don't belong in a big group of friends anymore, being a little lonely is better than in the limelight. Guys, you don't half know me at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel better talking to people I'm not very close to than talking to someone I think I'm close to but I'm actually not. You can't trust a person too much, that's what I've learnt, countless times but I fail to accept the fact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, but I'm not saying that because some people that I know are selfish hypocrites means everyone else is. Actually, I know people whom I feel comfortable with and know that there's at least a 90% chance the person won't stop being my friend, regarless of what will happen. Because I know that they will say sorry and let it pass rather than be stubborn and keep to their beliefs; thinking that they are always right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One big example is Sarah(: She really is a whole lot of a person. Regardless of her loud voice and silly laugh, she's the best person. &lt;3 We've fought, countless times, but I don't mention them because I know that we won't hold a grudge forever. Thanks Sarah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not everyone is like that. Some people I know (You should know who I'm talking about) will critisize and say stuff about people even though they've only known the person for a very short time. Sometimes, I feel bad about it but I'm afraid to say it. I'm sure everyone has that insecurity of losing people that are/pretend to be your friends because you like being known as the person with the big group of friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, everyone wakes up and realises that it doesn't work that way. How are they your friends when you don't tell them everything, when you can't open up to them, when you don't feel comfortable with them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up, and I realised, I felt slightly happier without them than with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realised that if I lost a friend, she was never really a friend at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I also realised that you can go around in a big group, but you never know that behind your back, these people who you call 'friends' are gossiping about you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then who are you to call them friends? Where was friendship in the first place?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6819780661942236823-7661253263658824293?l=dusty-memories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/feeds/7661253263658824293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6819780661942236823&amp;postID=7661253263658824293' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7661253263658824293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6819780661942236823/posts/default/7661253263658824293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dusty-memories.blogspot.com/2007/12/lazy-saturday-it-is-i-think-i-was.html' title=''/><author><name>tessa</name><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-6819780661942236823.post-2689239701022806001</id><published>2007-12-07T00:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:00:55.341+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I decided to recover all my older blogs for the fun of it. I couldn't uncover the blogger one (I think I deleted it) but I managed to recover the xanga one. And the first post was about National Drill Competition. I'm not really in the mood to relive memories. And no, I don't mean it in a bad way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But apart from the post-national drill competition post, the rest kind of relive memories which make me chuckle silently in the room. :DD Like the Angela and Rachel and the instant shine incident. It was hilarious back then and even right now, as I read it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"...and this hilarious thing happened between Angela and Rachel. She tried to open the instant shine bottle to shine her boots and it went all over Rachel. Omg, I laughed until my stomach hurt. Then she used the other instant shine bottle and she squirt it all over her shoe. Ina and I couldn't stop laughing! Man it was funny."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;That was funny. And, I do have a lot of grammar/spelling errors. And I sound like a tard. Pfft. Oh and here's another quote from my nerdy posts:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;whats done is done, you've got to move on... says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh gosh!                                                                  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;whats done is done, you've got to move on... says: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why did we join                                                       &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;whats done is done, you've got to move on... says: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we have a chance of 1 to a google                      &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;whats done is done, you've got to move on... says:  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;life sucks man                                                         &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;tessa(: says:  &lt;/span&gt;                                              &lt;br /&gt;maybe a miracle will happen(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can go and guess who I was talking to, though it's pretty obvious. That was like, during Chinese New Year can? All I can remember of this post was that I was using my other laptop (aka, BABY:D, who ended up with a virus that Giselle sent to me over MSN -.=) and that we were talking about losing National Drill Com. At that time, what was new?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that was the last few posts. I was such a dork/nerd/tard. I'm happy I recovered this one instead of the blogger ones, which are even more ancient than this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also relized how short I lasted with that blog. Everything (at least 95%) is made up of National Drill Com and practices. Go figure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, I can see how I have changed (in so many attributes, like: Who I hung out with then and what I noticed, my grammar and spelling) Even the people and events I mentioned inside has changed. (Note the top MSN conversation with who-you-think-it-is) Her MSN nicks aren't that cheesy anymore, and mine aren't that plain, boring and stupid /:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure in years to come, I'd look at this post and laugh, once again, at myself. It was good to recover that old blog (;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is also a reminder for me to not delete this blog, so I can laugh at it in the future (: It's also how anoying how I ended every post with either 'tata' or 'byeeeee'. Pfft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh wells. Critisize and laugh for all I care. I am me and you can't change it, only I can. (I sounded like Jo Ee when I said that)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow/later 
