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Krista Allen - Sexy American Actress - Photo Shots

2010-05-16T09:32:00.000-07:00

Krista Allen (born April 5, 1972) is an American actress and model. She is best known for her roles as Billie Reed on Days of our Lives from 1996�1999, as Jenna Avid on Baywatch Hawaii from 2000�2001, and as Bridget on What About Brian from 2006�2007. Her notable film roles include Liar Liar, Anger Management and Confessions of a Dangerous Mind. She also took the lead role in a series of softcore television movies inspired by the sex icon Emmanuelle. Allen was born in Ventura, California, the daughter of Portuguese American Katherine Mary (n�e Raposa)[citation needed] and Irish American Dalton Earl Allen, Sr., who later divorced. Allen has an older brother, Dalton Earl Allen, Jr. She grew up in Houston and later lived in Austin, Texas, going to school at Austin Community College and majoring in education. Krista eventually graduated from the University of Texas with an education degree. She considered teaching as a profession but ultimately decided to move back to California and pursue an acting career.

Carrie Marie Underwood - Sexy Photo Shots

2010-05-16T08:57:00.000-07:00

Marie Underwood of Height: 5' 3½" (1.61 m) is a reknown celebs. Her favorite singer is Martina McBride; favorite movies are Horror; and favorite food is Pizza.Grew up on a farm in Checotah, Oklahoma.

The Search for a Superstar" (2002), she sang "Can't Make You Love Me".Graduated from Northeastern State University with a degree in mass communications (2006)Amazingly, has no formal training in voice or singing.Her victory at the 2005 American Idol competition has been considered the show's first upset. Many pundits thought she would be bested by runner-up Bo Bice.She is a vegetarian.

Erin Daniels - Sexy Photo Shot of Actress Erin Daniels

2010-05-16T08:46:00.000-07:00

The actress Erin Daniels was born on October 9, 1973, and grew up in St. Louis, Miss. She is a graduate of Vassar College with a degree in architecture and art history. Erin's early films include "One Hour Photo," "Wheelman" and "House of 1000 Corpses." She also has guest starred in TV shows like "Law & Order" and "The Outer Limits," but her most famous role is as Dana in Showtime's "The L-Word."

Story - Long Day at The Cafe

2010-05-16T08:32:00.000-07:00

Sara Ferguson stared out the window of the caf�. She could not stop thinking about her dad. She was living at home with him, attending college full time. Last night her dad was complaining of chest pain. It really scared her. She had never thought about losing him. Sara was four when her mom died. Her dad had always been there for her. Now she could not stop worrying. He was only 49. She needed him.

Sara watched people go in and out of the shoe store across the street. It reminded her of when she was a little girl. Sara started working when she 10 yrs old. Every Saturday, she walked to work with her dad. He owned a shoe shop in Los Angeles. Sara liked hanging out with her dad. She also enjoyed helping the customers pick out shoes. Her dad paid $1.50 for every pair of shoes she sold. The most money she ever made in one day was $15.00. Sara’s dad taught her how to budget her money carefully. Each week, she wrote down how many pairs of shoes she sold. She counted all her money. Then Sara put 75% in a savings account that her dad opened for her. She kept 25% to spend.

Sara’s dad started talking to her about college when she was 3 years old. “It’s never too early to start planning for your education,” he always said. And he was right.

Sara never touched the money in her savings account. She waited until her graduation day from high school. On that day, she spent some money. She bought her dad a special present for putting up with her teenage years. She bought herself the class ring she wanted. Sara felt like she was rich, but not for long. Her dad agreed to pay for her tuition each semester. Sara, herself, had to pay for her books. T

Sara did not think that money for books was a great deal. Then she she went to the bookstore that Fall. She was surprised to find out how much it cost to go to college! But it was all working out fine. Now she was nearing the end of her first year. She was looking forward to finding a summer job.

But Sara’s outlook on life changed yesterday. She saw the pain in her father’s eyes last night. He had gripped his chest and fallen back into the chair. She knew things would be different. She skipped school today to sit in her favorite caf�. She needed to think. Her head was full of questions. Do I need to start taking care of my dad? Do I need cook healthy meals? Should I start exercising with him? What if this happens again? What if he dies? What will I do?

Sara decided to make a list of important matters to discuss with her father. She already knew what he would say: “Oh, don’t be silly. There is nothing wrong with me.” And she would give him the speech about not blowing her off. And then he would listen. She would ask questions. He would answer them. And she would wish she were 10 years old again.

Sara stayed at the caf� all day long. She wasn’t hungry. She hadn’t eaten all day, except for a muffin and coffee that morning. At about 4:30, Sara looked up from her list. Standing outside the caf� window was her father. He looked down at her. She smiled, and tears streamed down her face. Her dad came inside and sat down. He didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at the paper, trying to make out the words between her fingers. He wiped her tears away, and said, “I’m okay, but you’re right, we probably need to talk about some things.”

Sara thought, "I'm so glad I didn’t have to give him the speech."

Story - Fat and Thin

2010-05-16T08:26:00.001-07:00

Two friends -- one a fat man and the other a thin man -- met at the Nikolaevsky station. The fat man had just dined in the station and his greasy lips shone like ripe cherries. He smelt of sherry and fleur d'orange. The thin man had just slipped out of the train and was laden with portmanteaus, bundles, and bandboxes. He smelt of ham and coffee grounds. A thin woman with a long chin, his wife, and a tall schoolboy with one eye screwed up came into view behind his back.

"Porfiry," cried the fat man on seeing the thin man. "Is it you? My dear fellow! How many summers, how many winters!"

"Holy saints!" cried the thin man in amazement. "Misha! The friend of my childhood! Where have you dropped from?"

The friends kissed each other three times, and gazed at each other with eyes full of tears. Both were agreeably astounded.

"My dear boy!" began the thin man after the kissing. "This is unexpected! This is a surprise! Come have a good look at me! Just as handsome as I used to be! Just as great a darling and a dandy! Good gracious me! Well, and how are you? Made your fortune? Married? I am married as you see. . . . This is my wife Luise, her maiden name was Vantsenbach . . . of the Lutheran persuasion. . . . And this is my son Nafanail, a schoolboy in the third class. This is the friend of my childhood, Nafanya. We were boys at school together!"

Nafanail thought a little and took off his cap.

"We were boys at school together," the thin man went on. "Do you remember how they used to tease you? You were nicknamed Herostratus because you burned a hole in a schoolbook with a cigarette, and I was nicknamed Ephialtes because I was fond of telling tales. Ho--ho! . . . we were children! . . . Don't be shy, Nafanya. Go nearer to him. And this is my wife, her maiden name was Vantsenbach, of the Lutheran persuasion. . . ."

Nafanail thought a little and took refuge behind his father's back.

"Well, how are you doing my friend?" the fat man asked, looking enthusiastically at his friend. "Are you in the service? What grade have you reached?"

"I am, dear boy! I have been a collegiate assessor for the last two years and I have the Stanislav. The salary is poor, but that's no great matter! The wife gives music lessons, and I go in for carving wooden cigarette cases in a private way. Capital cigarette cases! I sell them for a rouble each. If any one takes ten or more I make a reduction of course. We get along somehow. I served as a clerk, you know, and now I have been transferred here as a head clerk in the same department. I am going to serve here. And what about you? I bet you are a civil councillor by now? Eh?"

"No dear boy, go higher than that," said the fat man. "I have risen to privy councillor already . . . I have two stars."

The thin man turned pale and rigid all at once, but soon his face twisted in all directions in the broadest smile; it seemed as though sparks were flashing from his face and eyes. He squirmed, he doubled together, crumpled up. . . . His portmanteaus, bundles and cardboard boxes seemed to shrink and crumple up too. . . . His wife's long chin grew longer still; Nafanail drew himself up to attention and fastened all the buttons of his uniform.

"Your Excellency, I . . . delighted! The friend, one may say, of childhood and to have turned into such a great man! He--he!"

"Come, come!" the fat man frowned. "What's this tone for? You and I were friends as boys, and there is no need of this official obsequiousness!"

"Merciful heavens, your Excellency! What are you saying. . . ?" sniggered the thin man, wriggling more than ever. "Your Excellency's gracious attention is like refreshing manna. . . . This, your Excellency, is my son Nafanail, . . . my wife Luise, a Lutheran in a certain sense."

The fat man was about to make some protest, but the face of the thin man wore an expression of such reverence, sugariness, and mawkish respectfulness that the privy councillor was sickened. He turned away from the thin man, giving him his hand at parting.

The thin man pressed three fingers, bowed his whole body and sniggered like a Chinaman: "He--he--he!" His wife smiled. Nafanail scraped with his foot and dropped his cap. All three were agreeably overwhelmed.

Story - A Joke

2010-05-16T08:20:00.000-07:00

It was a bright winter midday. . . . There was a sharp snapping frost and the curls on Nadenka's temples and the down on her upper lip were covered with silvery frost. She was holding my arm and we were standing on a high hill. From where we stood to the ground below there stretched a smooth sloping descent in which the sun was reflected as in a looking-glass. Beside us was a little sledge lined with bright red cloth.

"Let us go down, Nadyezhda Petrovna!" I besought her. "Only once! I assure you we shall be all right and not hurt."

But Nadenka was afraid. The slope from her little goloshes to the bottom of the ice hill seemed to her a terrible, immensely deep abyss. Her spirit failed her, and she held her breath as she looked down, when I merely suggested her getting into the sledge, but what would it be if she were to risk flying into the abyss! She would die, she would go out of her mind.

"I entreat you!" I said. "You mustn't be afraid! You know it's poor-spirited, it's cowardly!"

Nadenka gave way at last, and from her face I saw that she gave way in mortal dread. I sat her in the sledge, pale and trembling, put my arm round her and with her cast myself down the precipice.

The sledge flew like a bullet. The air cleft by our flight beat in our faces, roared, whistled in our ears, tore at us, nipped us cruelly in its anger, tried to tear our heads off our shoulders. We had hardly strength to breathe from the pressure of the wind. It seemed as though the devil himself had caught us in his claws and was dragging us with a roar to hell. Surrounding objects melted into one long furiously racing streak . . . another moment and it seemed we should perish.

"I love you, Nadya!" I said in a low voice.

The sledge began moving more and more slowly, the roar of the wind and the whirr of the runners was no longer so terrible, it was easier to breathe, and at last we were at the bottom. Nadenka was more dead than alive. She was pale and scarcely breathing. . . . I helped her to get up.

"Nothing would induce me to go again," she said, looking at me with wide eyes full of horror. "Nothing in the world! I almost died!"

A little later she recovered herself and looked enquiringly into my eyes, wondering had I really uttered those four words or had she fancied them in the roar of the hurricane. And I stood beside her smoking and looking attentively at my glove.

She took my arm and we spent a long while walking near the ice-hill. The riddle evidently would not let her rest. . . . Had those words been uttered or not? . . . Yes or no? Yes or no? It was the question of pride, or honour, of life -- a very important question, the most important question in the world. Nadenka kept impatiently, sorrowfully looking into my face with a penetrating glance; she answered at random, waiting to see whether I would not speak. Oh, the play of feeling on that sweet face! I saw that she was struggling with herself, that she wanted to say something, to ask some question, but she could not find the words; she felt awkward and frightened and troubled by her joy. . . .

"Do you know what," she said without looking at me.

"Well?" I asked.

"Let us . . . slide down again."

We clambered up the ice-hill by the steps again. I sat Nadenka, pale and trembling, in the sledge; again we flew into the terrible abyss, again the wind roared and the runners whirred, and again when the flight of our sledge was at its swiftest and noisiest, I said in a low voice:

"I love you, Nadenka!"

When the sledge stopped, Nadenka flung a glance at the hill down which we had both slid, then bent a long look upon my face, listened to my voice which was unconcerned and passionless, and the whole of her little figure, every bit of it, even her muff and her hood expressed the utmost bewilderment, and on her face was written: "What does it mean? Who uttered those words? Did he, or did I only fancy it?"

The uncertainty worried her and drove her out of all patience. The poor girl did not answer my questions, frowned, and was on the point of tears.

"Hadn't we better go home?" I asked.

"Well, I . . . I like this tobogganning," she said, flushing. "Shall we go down once more?"

She "liked" the tobogganning, and yet as she got into the sledge she was, as both times before, pale, trembling, hardly able to breathe for terror.

We went down for the third time, and I saw she was looking at my face and watching my lips. But I put my handkerchief to my lips, coughed, and when we reached the middle of the hill I succeeded in bringing out:

"I love you, Nadya!"

And the mystery remained a mystery! Nadenka was silent, pondering on something. . . . I saw her home, she tried to walk slowly, slackened her pace and kept waiting to see whether I would not say those words to her, and I saw how her soul was suffering, what effort she was making not to say to herself:

"It cannot be that the wind said them! And I don't want it to be the wind that said them!"

Next morning I got a little note:

"If you are tobogganning to-day, come for me. --N."

And from that time I began going every day tobogganning with Nadenka, and as we flew down in the sledge, every time I pronounced in a low voice the same words: "I love you, Nadya!"

Soon Nadenka grew used to that phrase as to alcohol or morphia. She could not live without it. It is true that flying down the ice-hill terrified her as before, but now the terror and danger gave a peculiar fascination to words of love -- words which as before were a mystery and tantalized the soul. The same two -- the wind and I were still suspected. . . . Which of the two was making love to her she did not know, but apparently by now she did not care; from which goblet one drinks matters little if only the beverage is intoxicating.

It happened I went to the skating-ground alone at midday; mingling with the crowd I saw Nadenka go up to the ice-hill and look about for me. . . then she timidly mounted the steps. . . . She was frightened of going alone -- oh, how frightened! She was white as the snow, she was trembling, she went as though to the scaffold, but she went, she went without looking back, resolutely. She had evidently determined to put it to the test at last: would those sweet amazing words be heard when I was not there? I saw her, pale, her lips parted with horror, get into the sledge, shut her eyes and saying good-bye for ever to the earth, set off. . . . "Whrrr!" whirred the runners. Whether Nadenka heard those words I do not know. I only saw her getting up from the sledge looking faint and exhausted. And one could tell from her face that she could not tell herself whether she had heard anything or not. Her terror while she had been flying down had deprived of her all power of hearing, of discriminating sounds, of understanding.

But then the month of March arrived . . . the spring sunshine was more kindly. . . . Our ice-hill turned dark, lost its brilliance and finally melted. We gave up tobogganning. There was nowhere now where poor Nadenka could hear those words, and indeed no one to utter them, since there was no wind and I was going to Petersburg -- for long, perhaps for ever.

It happened two days before my departure I was sitting in the dusk in the little garden which was separated from the yard of Nadenka's house by a high fence with nails in it. . . . It was still pretty cold, there was still snow by the manure heap, the trees looked dead but there was already the scent of spring and the rooks were cawing loudly as they settled for their night's rest. I went up to the fence and stood for a long while peeping through a chink. I saw Nadenka come out into the porch and fix a mournful yearning gaze on the sky. . . . The spring wind was blowing straight into her pale dejected face. . . . It reminded her of the wind which roared at us on the ice-hill when she heard those four words, and her face became very, very sorrowful, a tear trickled down her cheek, and the poor child held out both arms as though begging the wind to bring her those words once more. And waiting for the wind I said in a low voice:

"I love you, Nadya!"

Mercy! The change that came over Nadenka! She uttered a cry, smiled all over her face and looking joyful, happy and beautiful, held out her arms to meet the wind.

And I went off to pack up. . . .

That was long ago. Now Nadenka is married; she married -- whether of her own choice or not does not matter -- a secretary of the Nobility Wardenship and now she has three children. That we once went tobogganning together, and that the wind brought her the words "I love you, Nadenka," is not forgotten; it is for her now the happiest, most touching, and beautiful memory in her life. . . .

But now that I am older I cannot understand why I uttered those words, what was my motive in that joke. . .

Story - SHE

2010-05-16T08:16:00.000-07:00

She sits in a rustic A-frame cabin, looking out a set of double glass doors. It's a humid summer day. She's not fashionably dressed: a grey, short-sleeve expedition shirt with two front pockets � in one a mechanical pencil; a scratchy, drab-colored set of insect-shield convertible pants torn in a few places by bramble. Her forearms, scented with the remnant odor of lemon eucalyptus oil insect repellant, are well-muscled enough to show she can push her way through overgrown trails; her rough bare feet are masculine enough to prove she's walked on tough terrain.
Her eyes follow a sloping meadow: beyond, the flat plain of salt marsh divided by a meandering estuary; further, a white swath of granite outcroppings; beyond this, the marsh rising again into upland forest. The only sounds she hears are the hum of an old refrigerator, the chirping of crickets, the moan of a foghorn from a hump of an island just off the coast.
For the past three weeks she has been counting birds, making entries into a laptop computer log: 1 Medium-tailed Guternatch; 2 Truncated Pipsqueaks; 1 Roasted Titmouse; 1 Nappy-headed Hoot Owl; 4 Sharp-shinned Slinkers (females only); 1 Albino Albatross; 1 Picbald Porcupine Flicktippery; 1 Jack-booted Thugwhomple; 2 Slack-jawed Yokels.
She likes being alone; better than working in an urban high rise. It's a lovely day, and she can't think of any better place to be � more or less.
"Drab-colored?" she says abruptly, apparently to no one. "You call 'chocolate heather' drab-colored?"
That's what it is � drab-colored. I can decide. Does that justify her interruption of a carefully planned scene?
"Well, I don't like what you've done. Are you seriously going to leave me alone in a wilderness bird sanctuary? For how long?"
Not much longer.
"Oh, really."
She's going to meet someone new.
"But you said I like being alone."
She does and she doesn't.
"Just who or what in this desolate place is going to be aroused by my masculine-looking toes? A black bear?"
It's not desolate. It's paradisiacal. I like her feet.
"Oh, come on. What, exactly, am I supposed to be?"
She's an ornithologist.
"Oh, brother. Just what is at stake here?"
She's very smart; she has a Ph.D. in biology from Cornell University. Her thesis was on the female reproductive anatomy of the wild turkey.
"And you call yourself a writer."
I think she's attractive.
"Sure; if you're into cloacae."
Trust me.
"Do I get a name, or are you going to call me 'she' for the rest of the story?"
I haven't quite decided. I was thinking 'Midge,' or something, I don't know; I'll work it out later.
"You've got to be kidding. Did I ask to be insecticide-reeking, muscle-bound, big-footed Midge-the-Ornithologist in a mediocre piece of fiction by a second- or third-rate fictionalist?"
See? She shows signs of being an intelligent woman.
"Stop calling me ‘she,' and, no, I did not ask for that. Being nothing is better than what you've planned for me."
She's going to fall in love.
"In the middle of nowhere? Brilliant."
She's going to meet some guy in the woods.
"What, like you?"
I can't just stop the story. I've created her, and I'm going to do something with her.
"Well, then, change the scene. Manhattan, how about it, and pronto?"
Manhattan's loud and smelly. Here there'll be this guy and the birds �
"As if I haven't had enough. Make me into a sexy New York literary agent."
I don't want her to be a sexy literary agent. I want her to be an ornithologist.
"Afraid I'd reject both you and your book?"
Listen; the scene is a remote bird sanctuary. She's an ornithologist whose job is to count birds. She's going to fall in love with some guy she meets by chance in the forest. Want me to change the feet? Give her small, delicate feet � like a ballet dancer? Dress her in ballet-style shoes that lace up around her slender ankles while she looks out the glass doors counting birds?
"And I could be unbuttoning the top three buttons of my 'expedition shirt' � like this, see? � because it's so hot, and right now I'm bending down to unlace my ballet shoes � -"
If I want to undress her, I will.
"Creep."
But that's not what I have in mind. She's an intellectual. This is a subtle story.
"Well, watch me, Mr. Subtle, while I unsnap the fly-button of my 'drab-colored insect-shield pants,' unzip half-way down because it's so sticky today, lean my hip on the unfinished pine kitchen table. Take a closer look: you've given me a small and very artful tattoo one inch above my shaved, lemon-eucalyptus-oil smudged � -"
I've done no such thing.
"Then maybe I don't want to be in this story."
She doesn't have a choice.
"You think so?"
She can't just walk out.
"Watch me. Out this glass door. And quit calling me she."
It's a point of view thing. Some novelist won the Nobel Prize in Literature using the third-person singular human/animate female personal pronoun alone.
"Watch me."
It's going to rain � really hard. With lightning and thunder. And the bears.
"Your cheap fragmentary sentences don't frighten me."
Coyotes, feral cats, rabid foxes, bull moose. I'm not kidding � you have to be careful. I'd worry.
"I don't care what you try to do to me."
Oh, really? She doesn't care? Well, then, fine; let's see how far she gets, sliding open the left door of the double glass doors, slamming it shut behind her, walking barefoot (oh, lovely feet) out into the lush, green meadow, the sky clouding up, the heavy air foreshadowing a storm, she, walking down the long slope toward the salt estuary, a dragonfly floating past her, vibrating, trembling its tiny wings, gliding on the dead-still air, she, becoming smaller and smaller as the distance increases, disappearing behind a dip in the meadow above the marsh grass, forever gone.
Oh, the crickets chirping melancholically, the refrigerator's mechanical buzzing making the rustic old A-frame suddenly seem unbearably, intolerably silent, the historic lighthouse bemoaning 156 years of reclusion. She's on her way to Manhattan.

Story - A Silent Love

2010-05-16T08:14:00.000-07:00

From the very Begining, the girl's family objected strongly on her dating this guy. Saying that it has got to do with family background & that the girl will have to suffer for the rest of her life if she were to be with him.

Due to family's pressure, the couple quarrel very often. Though the girl love the guy deeply, but she always ask him: "How deep is your love for me?"

As the guy is not good with his words, this often cause the girl to be very upset. With that & the family's pressure, the girl often vent her anger on him. As for him, he only endure it in silence.

After a couple of years, the guy finally graduated & decided to further his studies in overseas. Before leaving, he proposed to the girl: "I'm not very good with words. But all I know is that I love you. If you allow me, I will take care of you for the rest of my life. As for your family, I'll try my best to talk them round. Will you marry me?"

The girl agreed, & with the guy's determination, the family finally gave in & agreed to let them get married. So before he leave, they got engaged.

The girl went out to the working society, whereas the guy was overseas, continuing his studies. They sent their love through emails & phone calls. Though it's hard, but both never thought of giving up.

One day, while the girl was on her way to work, she was knocked down by a car that lost control. When she woke up, she saw her parents beside her bed. She realised that she was badly injured. Seeing her mum crying, she wanted to comfort her. But she realized that all that could come out of her mouth was just a sigh. She has lost her voice......

The doctors says that the impact on her brain has caused her to lose her voice. Listening to her parents' comfort, but with nothing coming out from her, she broke down.

During the stay in hospital, besides silence cry,.....it's still just silence cry that companied her. Upon reaching home, everything seems to be the same. Except for the ringing tone of the phone. Which pierced into her heart everytime it rang. She does not wish to let the guy know. & not wanting to be a burden to him, she wrote a letter to him saying that she does not wish to wait any longer.

With that, she sent the ring back to him. In return, the guy sent millions & millions of reply, and countless of phonecalls,.. all the girl could do, besides crying, is still crying....

The parents decided to move away, hoping that she could eventually forget everything & be happy.

With a new environment, the girl learn sign language & started a new life. Telling herself everyday that she must forget the guy. One day, her friend came & told her that he's back. She asked her friend not to let him know what happened to her. Since then, there wasn't anymore news of him.

A year has passed & her friend came with an envelope, containing an invitation card for the guy's wedding. The girl was shattered. When she open the letter, she saw her name in it instead.

When she was about to ask her friend what's going on, she saw the guy standing in front of her. He used sign language telling her "I've spent a year's time to learn sign language. Just to let you know that I've not forgotten our promise. Let me have the chance to be your voice. I Love You. With that, he slipped the ring back into her finger. The girl finally smiled.

Story - A love that never was...

2010-05-16T08:10:00.000-07:00

Six years ago, I fell in love. His name was Rudam. Summer of that year (more than a month since we were officially on), we were supposed to have summer classes but he didn’t come. Since the very first day of classes until it ended, I didn’t see him. Wondering what could have gone wrong, I asked every single friend he has to come accompany me to his house…but then, nobody did.

During those days when he was gone, one friend (I call him Longz), kept telling me to stop holding on to something that just isn’t there anymore. Maybe the pain I was feeling then was too obvious that he wanted to make me feel he’s just there for me. Then, there also was Orlando. Orlando, by the way, was one of my classmates who happen to have a very obvious crush on me. The two of them kept me company.

Enrollment for the next school year came. Before the day ended, there was Rudam, waving, smiling at me as if there was no more than a month that he was gone. Then, he sat beside me and asked me, “How are you, bhe?” I didn’t answer. What I needed then was an explanation. What I wanted to hear was him saying sorry for having been gone without even telling me a single word. But he didn’t. He just sat down in there…and when I still didn’t talk to him, he went to see his peers. That was the day when we silently broke ourselves up.

Orlando became my boyfriend a few months after that. I loved him with all my heart and soul. And I know that nobody, nobody else can ever love him the way I did. For ten months, I was honestly happy. But then, love alone can never be really enough to make a relationship last. To cut the story short, I and Orlando broke up a few months after our first anniversary. No, let me specify, we broke up on my mom’s birthday.

That day started the years of my hopeless craving for one true love to come into my life. That day marked the beginning of my journey as a devastated, helpless soul. I was broken, so broken into too many pieces that I wasn’t able to pick up all the pieces to make me whole again. Yet, I waited for either Rudam or Orlando to come back… but they never did.

Year 2007, I finally gave up waiting. Instead, I married the man who’s been waiting for me to love him back. Why? Because I know that if I choose him, I will never be in pain ever again. He’s loved me for too long that losing me would be the last thing he would ever want. But then, that was the biggest mistake I ever did. Marrying him was like destining myself to forever emptiness. I didn’t realize that until a month ago.

June 2009… I was surprised to find a message from Rudam. He found me through friendster. He said he still loves me, misses me, saying sorry for what he has done, even wishing he was my husband. Those words were the last words I would ever want to hear from him. Those words took me back to where I don’t want to come back. Those words brought back every single pain I felt. Those words made me realize how much of my life has been spent being broken… yet, I am still too broken.
He came back too late.
It was a love that was never meant to be… I just have to accept that.

Story - Its Beginning to Hurt

2010-05-16T08:03:00.000-07:00

‘Good lunch Mr Bryar?’
‘Excellent lunch.’
‘Sorleys?’
‘No, some … Chinese place.’
‘Your wife rang.’
He dialled home: his wife answered.
‘Where on earth have you been?’
‘Sorry darling. Complicated lunch…’
Strange, to be lying to her again. And about a funeral!

‘Tom’s coming down. Stop at Dalgliesh’s, would you, and pick up a salmon. A wild one? Better go right now, actually, in case they run out.’

It was July, a baking summer. He walked slowly, thinking of the ceremony he had just attended. Among the half dozen mourners, he had known only the solicitor who had introduced him to Marie ten years ago and had told him of her death last week.

The news had stunned him: he hadn’t known she was ill, but then he hadn’t seen her for seven years. Throughout the service he had found himself weeping uncontrollably.

The man at Dalgliesh’s hoisted a fish the length of his arm from under a covering of seaweed and ice.

‘How’s that?’
‘Okay. Would you ?'
‘Gut her and clean her sir?’
‘Please.’

The man slit the creature’s belly with a short knife, spilling the dewy beige guts into a bucket. He rinsed the flecked mesh of scales and the red flesh inside, then wrapped the fish in paper and put it in a plastic bag. It was six inches too long for the office fridge.

‘Bugger.’

He went down to the stock room. There were gluetraps lying about with dead mice and beetles on them, but it was cooler there than upstairs. Uneasily, he placed the fish in the drawer of an old metal filing cabinet.
For the rest of the afternoon he worked on new rental listings. His eyes were burning when he stopped. It was late and he had to hurry to the tube station. Sweating and panting he emerged at Charing Cross just in time to get the six-forty.

On the train, crowded with weekenders, he found himself thinking of Marie. Sometimes she would sing a nonsense song in his ear, her mouth close as if she were whispering a secret. He remembered the strange solitariness of her existence in London; her even stranger indifference to this solitariness. They couldn’t afford hotels so they used to pretend she was a client, interested in one of the properties listed with his firm. Every home they entered was a different world. Making love in the ‘sumptuously appointed Victorian maisonette’ or the ‘cosy garden flat’ was an adventure into a series of possible lives, each with its own reckless joys: one afternoon they were rich socialites; the next a pair of bohemian students… For three years he had felt the happiest man alive, and the luckiest. Marie never asked him to leave his family, and he had regarded this, too, as part of his luck.

And then, abruptly, she had ended it. ‘I’m in love with you’, she’d told him matter-of-factly, ‘and it’s beginning to hurt.’

His wife was waiting for him outside the station.
‘Where’s the salmon?’ She asked.
A sudden horror spread through him.

‘I ? I left it behind.’
She turned abruptly away, then stared back at him a moment.
‘You’re a fool.’ She said. ‘You’re a complete bloody fool.’

Story - Let Me Love You

2010-05-16T07:55:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, there was once a guy who was very much in love with this girl. This romantic guy folded 1,000 pieces of papercranes as a gift to his girl. Although, at that time he was just a small executive in his company, his future doesn't seemed too bright, they were very happy together. Until one day, his girl told him she was going to Paris and will never come back. She also told him that she cannot visualise any future for the both of them, so let's go their own ways there and then... heartbroken, the guy agreed.

When he regained his confidence, he worked hard day and night, slogging his body and mind just to make something out of himself. Finally with all these hardwork and with the help of friends, this guy had set up his own company...

"You never fail until you stop trying." he always told himself. "I must make it in life!"
One rainy day, while this guy was driving, he saw an elderly couple sharing an umbrella in the rain walking to some destination. Even with the umbrella, they were still drenched. It didn't take him long to realise those were his ex-girlfriend's parents. With a heart in getting back at them, he drove slowly beside the couple, wanting them to spot him in his luxury sedan. He wanted them to know that he wasn't the same anymore, he had his own company, car, condo, etc. He had made it in life!

Before the guy can realise, the couple was walking towards a cemetary,and he got out of his car and followed them...and he saw his ex-girlfriend, a photograph of her smiling sweetly as ever at him from her tombstone... and he saw his precious papercranes in a bottle placed beside her tomb. Her parents saw him. He walked over and asked them why this had happened. They explained, she did not leave for France at all. She was stricken ill with cancer. In her heart, she had believed that he will make it someday, but she did not want her illness to be his obstacle ... therefore she had chosen to leave him.

She had wanted her parents to put his papercranes beside her, because, if the day comes when fate brings him to her again he can take some of those back with him. The guy just wept ...the worst way to miss someone is to be sitting right beside them but knowing you can't have them and will never see them again.
The End."

A tragic story that perhaps happens only in the movies. At the end of the day, money is money is money but love is divine. In our quest for our material wealth, take time to make time for our loved ones. There will be a time when we have only memories to cling to.

Story - Unforgettable Love

2010-05-16T07:38:00.000-07:00

It was the end of the day at my school, I took the bus with my friends and there I met “the” guy. He wasnt the most hottest guy in the world but he ’s really cute. I sat on the bus with my best friend and then he just started bugging me. He just wouldnt leave me alone, but I was kinda glad he didnt. The day after I met him, I started talking to his friends asking them about him, his name was Jeffrey.Jeffrey and I became friends we talked, and officially fell inlove with each other. Then finally he asked me out. I was so happy. We both knew that we were for each other. Finnally my dream had came true, I was given an forgettable love. Everyday Jeffrey would walk me to class, sit beside me at the bus, and he was the best boyfriend I had ever had. All of my friends were jealous. We did had fights and we would always get through it. Everyone said that we would last forever.

Everyone said that we were gonna marry each other, and have kids. Then one night I got a text message from Jeffrey saying that his brother was gonna run away and go to Seatle. He wanted to go.We were both in pain that night. I didnt want to lose him, and also I didnt want him to stay and lose his brother. I had to make the choose, so I told him that he should go and stay with his brother I loved him that’s why I did that. But fortunatelly his brother stayted and he did too.From that day on our relationship grew tighter and tighter. Other people tried to break us up but they didnt achieve. One day I had the feeling that he was gonna dump me, so I asked his bestfriend if he was planning to dump me but luckly it was a false alarm. Then hours after I talked to Jeffrey’s bestfriend, Jeffrey texted me! The text message was full of swears, words that I couldnt even imagine that he would say to me. He said that I was making everything so misarable.And then I called his other bestfriend, as soon as his other best friend hear me crying in the phone, he said that he would talk to Jeffrey and settle it all out. Then Jeffrey kept calling me and trying to apologize. But then I needed to forgive him. Then we got through that fight. Unfortunatelly after months of joy our relationship ended. All of the happyness we had it just ended in a snap. I loved him.

What happanned was that his best friend told me that he was gonna dump me, and I was sure that he was gonna do it, bacause he didnt talked to me that whole day, and didnt even bother hugging me nor kissing me. So I dumped him! I was hurt! I felt like I was gonna die! I did got was I wished an forgettable love. I never got over Jeffrey. Then one of his friend went up to me, and asked why did you dump him if you still like him.Then I said because he was gonna dunp me too, and then he said no he wasnt gonna dump you. I felt so stupid I wished that I should have talked to him first. It’s been 6 months after the breakup. I know how he is, and I know how his life is. His dad died because of cancer. Jeffrey was suffering, he was so sad. I couldnt help myself, and I blamed his sadness on me. I could have saved our relationship in so many ways, but I didnt.I dont know why I didnt. I did start liking other guys but my heart still belongs to him. I tried to put our broken relationship back together, but I couldnt he loves someone else now. I guess people were right, Relationships are like glass. Sometimes it`s better to leave them broken than try to hurt yourself putting it back together. Jeffrey told alot of people that he never loved me, but I know he did, I knew he was lying. I cried for months, but I think the cut in my heart is finally cured.

Even though it took me along time to heal, it was worth it. But the truth is that I did loved Jeffrey, and that he was the best boyfriend that I had ever had . I moved on now , and officially over him.

Rekha Thapa - Beautiful Nepali Actress - Sexy Nepali Actress

2010-05-15T11:13:00.000-07:00

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2010-05-15T11:05:00.000-07:00

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2010-05-15T11:00:00.000-07:00

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2010-05-15T10:42:00.000-07:00

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2010-05-15T10:31:00.000-07:00

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2010-05-15T09:30:00.000-07:00

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2010-05-15T09:16:00.000-07:00

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2010-05-15T09:02:00.000-07:00

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2010-05-15T08:57:00.000-07:00

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2010-05-15T08:48:00.000-07:00

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2010-05-15T08:32:00.000-07:00

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2010-05-15T08:21:00.000-07:00

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Nepali Mp3 Songs Downloads | Download Latest Nepali Mp3 Songs | Free Nepali songs Downloads

2010-02-28T21:51:00.001-08:00

Searching Nepali mp3 songs for downloading, here are some songs listed that i gathered from different external Websites thinking they are provided for sharing purpose. You can download these Nepali Songs just for personal use. Enjoy Downloading...

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