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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/rss2full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Wed, 11 Nov 2009 14:07:14 +0000</lastBuildDate><title>Brute's Column!</title><description>crapped zone...</description><link>http://www.brutescolumn.com/</link><managingEditor>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>252</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/brutescolumn/GSmN" type="application/rss+xml" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com" /><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-5930083371837124951</guid><pubDate>Wed, 11 Nov 2009 12:58:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-11T09:07:14.529-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">story time</category><title>My daughter - 2</title><description>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SvrER5nEtUI/AAAAAAAACPQ/t85SmDt-arw/s1600-h/My-Daughter-Kieran-fanpop-users-5846810-2560-1920.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402846514785858882" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SvrER5nEtUI/AAAAAAAACPQ/t85SmDt-arw/s200/My-Daughter-Kieran-fanpop-users-5846810-2560-1920.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Continued from &lt;a href="http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/11/my-daughter.html"&gt;here &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Abhi was busy taking care of the guests and Puri was helping Bindu. Rest were glued to News channel worried about the CM who is missing since last night. The last point of contact with chopper was while flying over Nallamala forests and no one could contact them due to bad weather from that point. And my worry was how will my girl survive outside.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Dad, what are you doing here?" Bindu was visibly nervous since morning buzzing in and out of the room making sure she isn't forgetting anything. "Are you looking for something?" I asked her making her sit on my lap. "Yes, you..." she said giving me a peck, "I'm very nervous dad, I feel like not going anywhere... Shall I stay back?", "sure... I'll be more happy," I said with a smile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"What's going on here between you two huh?" Puri came into the room with plate of curd rice, "you haven't eaten anything since morning". "I'm not hungry mom, I don't feel like eating," she got up from my lap and tried to escape from her mother. Abhi came from behind and caught her, I took the plate from Puri and fed Bindu and Abhi, even Abhi hasn't eaten anything all day he was taking care of things while I was with Bindu trying to the spend maximum amount of time I had.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;First time when I took Bindu into my hands, my heart pounded, a sudden chill ran through my body. I watched her for hours when she was sleeping holding my finger with her little hand. Well, she's 21 already and ready to take off to a new world to pursue her dreams...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;...&lt;em&gt;to be continued&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-5930083371837124951?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/mEhI0SbObPI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/mEhI0SbObPI/my-daughter-2.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SvrER5nEtUI/AAAAAAAACPQ/t85SmDt-arw/s72-c/My-Daughter-Kieran-fanpop-users-5846810-2560-1920.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/11/my-daughter-2.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-2634362991878968200</guid><pubDate>Mon, 09 Nov 2009 13:48:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-09T09:27:31.805-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">story time</category><title>My daughter</title><description>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SvglzlkVINI/AAAAAAAACOw/VRoJ8iSZVf8/s1600-h/for%2520my%2520daughter%25201.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402109321218957522" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 128px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SvglzlkVINI/AAAAAAAACOw/VRoJ8iSZVf8/s200/for%2520my%2520daughter%25201.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The meaning of &lt;em&gt;love&lt;/em&gt; changed as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;bindu&lt;/span&gt; was growing, from liking things around to liking a person. Today, she has grown up to make her own decision, that's how she grew up. For some reason &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;abhi&lt;/span&gt;, my younger son wasn't like her, unsure of what he wants. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Bindu&lt;/span&gt; said everything but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;abhi&lt;/span&gt; like a typical guy hid things from me, not that I was ignorant of his actions outside.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Everyone knew that I always wanted a girl and God blessed me with one, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Puri&lt;/span&gt; wanted a boy (&lt;em&gt;thank God, you heard hers too... :D&lt;/em&gt;) . I have never seen &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Puri&lt;/span&gt; in irritating mood all these years, I always wondered how is that possible for a school teacher. But I'm little short-tempered having mood-swings, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Puri&lt;/span&gt; never complained about it. My habit of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;hiding&lt;/span&gt; things has gone when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Puri&lt;/span&gt; entered my life, I always thought that no one in this world would understand me but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Puri&lt;/span&gt; proved me wrong. Even though I left smoking long ago, I still have an itch for an occasional fag which I fulfill it in the restroom. And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Puri&lt;/span&gt; makes me feel guilty by spraying air &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;freshener&lt;/span&gt; in the restroom. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Bindu&lt;/span&gt; is leaving to US for further studies today. Her flight is at 8PM and the house was buzzing with guests who have come to give her a send off. I was sitting in her room looking into her album...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;... to be continued&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-2634362991878968200?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/wov9kv0985w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/wov9kv0985w/my-daughter.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SvglzlkVINI/AAAAAAAACOw/VRoJ8iSZVf8/s72-c/for%2520my%2520daughter%25201.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/11/my-daughter.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-7343649730381628919</guid><pubDate>Tue, 03 Nov 2009 14:43:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-03T12:03:49.883-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">250th post</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">poem</category><title>a moment..</title><description>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SvBFy5SmvYI/AAAAAAAACN4/bZMDYm5Aq-w/s1600-h/solitude.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399892693891857794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SvBFy5SmvYI/AAAAAAAACN4/bZMDYm5Aq-w/s320/solitude.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It feels  nice to wake up in the morning &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;have a smile on your face&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if only life was just a moment,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish to stay in there forever... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-7343649730381628919?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/gIKw5bUIlp8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/gIKw5bUIlp8/moment.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SvBFy5SmvYI/AAAAAAAACN4/bZMDYm5Aq-w/s72-c/solitude.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/11/moment.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-6321517980040332424</guid><pubDate>Thu, 15 Oct 2009 11:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-15T07:46:45.922-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">general</category><title>the ville show on facebook!</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/StcLYZQWPII/AAAAAAAACMo/k5KJz7nK1QY/s1600-h/020909121934gameBig_farmville.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 245px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/StcLYZQWPII/AAAAAAAACMo/k5KJz7nK1QY/s320/020909121934gameBig_farmville.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392791592523676802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Now it has become a part of life to allocate at least 2-3 hours for facebooking, not for keeping in touch with your friends but to take care of your virtual-farm, bakery, cafe, house, fishes so on... I'm talking about the games in the facebook that created by &lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.zynga.com/"&gt;zynga&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;/i&gt;a company that specializes in social games for social networks including facebook, MySpace, iPhone, and Bebo. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Of all the games they developed &lt;i&gt;farmville &lt;/i&gt;stands out the most addictive one in the whole lot. &lt;i&gt;Farmville &lt;/i&gt;had just 354 users on June 20, the day after it launched. And today, it's widely believed to be the largest and fastest-growing social game ever. &lt;i&gt;Farmville &lt;/i&gt;and &lt;i&gt;Mafia Wars &lt;/i&gt;boasts more than 125 million monthly active users. &lt;i&gt;Zynga Poker &lt;/i&gt;was their first social game, in July 2007. Its latest game, &lt;i&gt;cafeworld, &lt;/i&gt;has zoomed to 10 million users in about a week. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;My relation with &lt;i&gt;Zynga &lt;/i&gt;started off with &lt;i&gt;Poker, &lt;/i&gt;people accused me for jubilating on the virtual money I won. I remember playing that for one full semester before moving on to &lt;i&gt;Mafia Wars, &lt;/i&gt;then &lt;i&gt;Farmville, Yoville, &lt;/i&gt;and now &lt;i&gt;cafeworld. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/21991499-6321517980040332424?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/LGCpWV0TP5U" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/LGCpWV0TP5U/ville-show-on-facebook.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/StcLYZQWPII/AAAAAAAACMo/k5KJz7nK1QY/s72-c/020909121934gameBig_farmville.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/10/ville-show-on-facebook.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-2928871809478430882</guid><pubDate>Mon, 12 Oct 2009 13:33:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-12T09:38:40.628-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">poem</category><title>with you...</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/StMw0Y61LEI/AAAAAAAACMg/3ynCHWauXsY/s1600-h/557724730_f0dbbcc21e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 238px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/StMw0Y61LEI/AAAAAAAACMg/3ynCHWauXsY/s320/557724730_f0dbbcc21e.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391706855493151810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;When I was with you, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;sun, moon, rain,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;all looked the same...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/21991499-2928871809478430882?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/eTD0RpD90oM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/eTD0RpD90oM/with-you.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/StMw0Y61LEI/AAAAAAAACMg/3ynCHWauXsY/s72-c/557724730_f0dbbcc21e.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/10/with-you.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-5136527562963420870</guid><pubDate>Fri, 09 Oct 2009 19:03:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-09T17:55:45.057-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">life</category><title>Long time no see...</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/Ss-s1yNcoZI/AAAAAAAACMY/GJ3ynAFKLzA/s1600-h/Image+2009109170303.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/Ss-s1yNcoZI/AAAAAAAACMY/GJ3ynAFKLzA/s320/Image+2009109170303.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390717318996992402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It's been ages since I wrote something in here. I did start writing a new story &lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.brutescolumn.com/search/label/another%20short%20story"&gt;I'm not ready&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;, but I never came back to finish it. When I wanted to write the next episode "What's your rashee," movie pops up, ruining my story which has more or less similar kind of story. Anyways, the other day I happen to take a snap with cross legs pointing towards sky. Now, this was heights, because similar kind of pose is shown in the movie &lt;i&gt;wake up s!d &lt;/i&gt;that's my mistake. When I upload the pic people ask me to come up with original ideas, hehe... what can I say except try to defend myself a bit and laugh at the coincidence. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Well, life has become real hectic these days, been working all seven days a week and then job search, project work, etc etc... The other day I drove over on to the pavement while parking, fell asleep driving ( I couldn't stop laughing at my friend's scared expression that day...). That's all from me... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-5136527562963420870?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/pd5FaOWfU7w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/pd5FaOWfU7w/long-time-no-see.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/Ss-s1yNcoZI/AAAAAAAACMY/GJ3ynAFKLzA/s72-c/Image+2009109170303.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/10/long-time-no-see.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-3185381436632329417</guid><pubDate>Mon, 20 Jul 2009 03:57:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-20T01:14:45.110-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">another short story</category><title>I'm not ready - 1</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SmP8FCQbt2I/AAAAAAAACDk/NC-6D2bAByM/s1600-h/Married-with-bagage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SmP8FCQbt2I/AAAAAAAACDk/NC-6D2bAByM/s200/Married-with-bagage.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360405144936363874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; continued from &lt;a href="http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/07/im-not-ready.html"&gt;here...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/07/im-not-ready.html"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Jaaggu, get up you lazy bones... it's 10, I'm leaving to office... breakfast is ready on the dinning table, take bath and eat, and call me if you don't find anything... bye," I heard mom in my half-asleep state. I rolled over on my bed lazily and reached my mobile, it was 10:10 am. I took a minute to open my eyes properly and got up. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;After taking bath I walked towards dinning table. I saw an envelope on the table, I served idlies in my plate and opened that envelope. It had photographs, all girls, homely, modernly, weirdly...ewww! I hate 'em all! I put 'em back into the envelope and had my breakfast at peace. Later, I called up my friends, bloody hell, everyone are busy at office and I was afraid to be on the hit list of the boredom now. This can't continue, I can't ruin my stay like this. I didn't know what should be done to end this boredom. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Mom came back from office at 6 in the evening. She went straight towards the dinning table to check what did I eat for breakfast and lunch, "Jaggu, what's this you ate only 3 idlies since morning?" , "I didn't feel like eating... anyways, what's that envelope thing?" I asked. "Photos, did you check them out?", "Mom... I said I don't wanna get married, not at least for 3 more yrs...". Mom said, "Right, by then no one will come forward to marry an old man... and one more thing, that envelope has 8 pics and before you go back I have to know whom you gonna marry, if you don't like those 8 there are 3 more envelopes to be opened... you have no option but to select one from those pics..." , "Mom, you kidding me... I'm not gonna do that..." . Dad made his entry while this was happening... "Jagdeesh, you should be thankful that I allowed your mom to get your opinion, I already gave my word to couple of them, so I need to know your choice before leaving otherwise your engagement with a random girl is for sure by then..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I pitied myself for being in this situation, if only I had a girlfriend I wouldn't have been here. I smoked one full box of Marlboro's on the terrace all night thinking. Next day morning, I got a brilliant idea of escapism, I went to the hall and announced my decision while other members of my family were having breakfast, "well, I will do whatever you guys want but there's one thing I wanna ensure that which ever girl I choose should match my tastes by at least 60 percent and I wanna meet each girl personally not in front of her parents but somewhere outside in a restaurant of some coffee shop. If you guys are okay with this, then I'm ready..." . Mom and Dad whispered something within themselves and nodded their head...&lt;i&gt; Yippy! the official dating spree is on!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;...to be continued&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&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/21991499-3185381436632329417?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/h-ri2MD2wJk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/h-ri2MD2wJk/im-not-ready-1.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SmP8FCQbt2I/AAAAAAAACDk/NC-6D2bAByM/s72-c/Married-with-bagage.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/07/im-not-ready-1.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-1432090784265411196</guid><pubDate>Wed, 15 Jul 2009 20:48:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-16T14:39:01.234-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Romantic</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">poem</category><title>a wish...</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/Sl5GEzTOLQI/AAAAAAAACDE/BXKr-1kHNHg/s1600-h/blog"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/Sl5GEzTOLQI/AAAAAAAACDE/BXKr-1kHNHg/s200/blog" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358797654921719042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Nothing comes to my mind &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;when I look into your eyes,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;the thousand words you speak thru 'em.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;you are the beauty within my heart, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;and life of my soul.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I wish this moment never dies...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/21991499-1432090784265411196?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/x30-ir8tZSk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/x30-ir8tZSk/wish.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/Sl5GEzTOLQI/AAAAAAAACDE/BXKr-1kHNHg/s72-c/blog" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/07/wish.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-4207154299521011567</guid><pubDate>Wed, 01 Jul 2009 05:36:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-01T01:55:30.829-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">another short story</category><title>I'm not ready</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tartandsoul.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/bride-and-groom1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="http://tartandsoul.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/bride-and-groom1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Hi, I'm jags aka Jagdeesh. I'm twenty six and half, project manager in a construction company. I have come to US four years back, did my MS in Industrial Engineering and now doing a job here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;My parents and my younger sister are back in India busy looking matches for me. According to them I'm a settled person and should get married now. But I'm not ready for that, I told them this many times but they ask for a reason. I gave them N number of reasons, now I ran out of them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I have my own reasons to stay away from getting married, can say I have inferiority complex of marrying the person whom I donno , that's one reason, I also have many more reasons.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Well, I have taken leave for three weeks for a vacation to India after two years, not for getting married but to meet my parents and sis and also a special person...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;story begins soon...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-4207154299521011567?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/dsgfl3nRIu8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/dsgfl3nRIu8/im-not-ready.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/07/im-not-ready.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-1686203643325242281</guid><pubDate>Thu, 04 Jun 2009 20:15:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-05T02:01:50.777-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">timepass</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">crap</category><title>Datingsutra</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.nigeria-planet.com/image-files/dating3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 454px; height: 341px;" src="http://www.nigeria-planet.com/image-files/dating3.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;At around one in the night, while I was on phone, I find a book in my room. "Dating fundas for Guys and Girls" by Chaya Srivatsa, at the first sight of it I started laughing thinking who could have bought this book. Anyways, I was bored so thought of checking how different are the fundas from the fundas I learnt all these years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Well, I'm not gonna discuss each and every fundas given in that book, only the ones which I feel that everyone should know is discussed here...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Don't let a chilling silence creep in", that sounds perfect isn't it? well, generally at these kinda dating situations you tend to become numb as you donno what to talk and on which topic. Hang on, politics, religion and gender issues shouldn't be a part of your discussion, thank you that will end your so-called date in no time. So, talk crap but talk, movies, food, books, anything except those prohibited topics and don't be rude and also pay attention what the other has to say (courtesy dude...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Choose someone who is intellectually compatible", this one is my fav., now I don't wanna spend the evening with a decorative doll with nice make up and lipstick rather than brains!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Avoid a proxy approach of sending word thru' a common friend", this reminds me of the errands in old movies who gets sandwiched between 'em passing love notes. Be a man dude, say to her whatever comes to your mind, but be cautious on what you gonna say.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"A date is not a counseling couch so don't advise each other", hahhaa... can't stop laughing my ass out. Anyone out there has this experience? [:P]. It's funny man...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Get your knowledge levels up. Be up to date with current affairs, watch the news and read quality papers", this is even funnier, hahaha.... as if this guy/gal is going to an interview rather than to a date. But, you never know, can't take chances you see, this one suits for someone like "beauty with brains" and you don't wanna lose her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Here comes the interesting topic of the entire book, my the fav. one, "What girls want"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;- bring her flowers&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;- look her in the eyes and smile&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;- if you're in love with her... tell her&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;- if you say you're going to call DO IT!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;- Don't be JEALOUS (this one is damn important... )&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;- Be yourself&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Those are few which I felt were key ones.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Girls this one is for you, "What guys want from girls"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;- Don't expect him to read you mind and keep guessing&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;- Don't get into arguments over trivial issues&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;- Don't throw tantrums and act hysterical&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;That's it, rest are predictable, that we like sports, run away from getting married so on...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Last and very important point, don't be possessive, this will become fatal in your relationships..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&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/21991499-1686203643325242281?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/02DJMRSHAP8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/02DJMRSHAP8/datingsutra.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/06/datingsutra.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-8051613026361654702</guid><pubDate>Sat, 30 May 2009 21:01:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-30T18:32:46.302-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">life</category><title>The Unplanned exciting day!</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SiGzLWAGckI/AAAAAAAABt8/RDeHkltPpL4/s1600-h/Prayanam+Movie+Gallery.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SiGzLWAGckI/AAAAAAAABt8/RDeHkltPpL4/s320/Prayanam+Movie+Gallery.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341747640504054338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;What's the date?... it's May 30th, 2009, the day which I'm treasuring, here in this blogsville, forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I returned from my grandma's town after attending my cousin's engagement at around one in the night. I woke up at eight as I had an appointment with a company which asked me to come down to discuss about my internship. I and my friend Raghu went there, after finishing my work we met Raghu's cousin and his friend there. Raghu's cousin was attending the interview, after the interview we thought of going somewhere as we had nothing to do in the later part of the day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;We zoomed our car breaking traffic rules under the nose of the traffic police to PVR multiplex and booked tickets for two movies, one at 2:30PM and other was at 10:15PM. First movie, Vishal's Pista, was a headache movie to worsen that we got our seats in the first row. I tried to better the situation by observing the activities of the girls in our row though we were separated by a seat number. After the movie we decided to walk to GVK Mall which was 2 Kms away to eat at KFC. After filling ourselves we did window shopping there for more than an hour to beat the heat and also to kill the time. Then we walked to every shopping center for a/c on our way back to PVR. In between these activities Raghu's cousin and his friend whom I never met, talked as if we knew each other from our childhood, we became nice friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Then the final segment of our unplanned day, second movie Prayanam -  a love story in the airport. Right from the first frame of the movie we started laughing, we didn't expect the movie to be a laugh riot. We didn't move  from our seats fearing that we might miss the starting scene of the interval. As the clock was ticking we prayed that movie shouldn't end. Anyways movie ended on happier note, the first song and the background score had such high bass that we felt we were on a dance floor. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;At around 1:30 AM in the night we had late night biryani at Charminar. Finally reached home at 2:30 AM after good 14 and 1/2 hrs. I enjoyed to the core today...&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/21991499-8051613026361654702?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/s1aIQUm19KA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/s1aIQUm19KA/unplanned-exciting-day.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SiGzLWAGckI/AAAAAAAABt8/RDeHkltPpL4/s72-c/Prayanam+Movie+Gallery.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/05/unplanned-exciting-day.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-7025537187038766760</guid><pubDate>Fri, 01 May 2009 06:25:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-01T02:55:15.319-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">me..</category><title>updates...</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://putnam.k12.il.us/Study1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 337px;" src="http://putnam.k12.il.us/Study1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Creative writing is damn difficult anytime, you can't do that regularly unless you feel that you have all time in the world to do so. That's been the case with me these days, not that I'm busy with my course work but been busy with many things around me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Anyways, next week will be final week of the semester, and so have to bury my head into the books now. And a bunch of my friends have their grad walk later next week, so big party is up very soon. And after all that have to start vacating room, pack the bags, board the flight and finally land in India after good 15 months and 11 days.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A handful 82 days in India is what I will be looking forward now, and the scorching summer too. I'm eagerly waiting to rejuvenate my taste buds which have gone bland all these months in US of A.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;And, finally after lots of criticism from my friends about growing long hair ended up having a haircut last week to look like a school boy...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;PS: image is deceptive [:D]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-7025537187038766760?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/9XDs1mPvg4I" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/9XDs1mPvg4I/updates.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/05/updates.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-8770854965647422100</guid><pubDate>Mon, 13 Apr 2009 05:20:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-04-13T05:08:25.599-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">life</category><title>it'll never be same again...</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SeMA_j_qYPI/AAAAAAAABrc/C-0LQFydrrE/s1600-h/yurie5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 170px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SeMA_j_qYPI/AAAAAAAABrc/C-0LQFydrrE/s320/yurie5.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324100276476076274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It's not about winning, even losing sometimes is fun, and sometimes narrating your losing is satisfying. People change and even the person whom you think you know the most also change, it hurts to let 'em go, all you have is the fond memories, at least this will not change. Letting go isn't winning or losing, of course emptiness will hurt you. Letting go is courage to accept the change, it is growing up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;How can you know what love is if you've never been hurt once. Love should have been a decision rather than a feeling, because feeling are deceptive in nature and they don't last for long.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You are one of my nicest thoughts...&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/21991499-8770854965647422100?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/B82j59Z_ySY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/B82j59Z_ySY/itll-never-be-same-again.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SeMA_j_qYPI/AAAAAAAABrc/C-0LQFydrrE/s72-c/yurie5.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/04/itll-never-be-same-again.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-8145163340826925122</guid><pubDate>Thu, 02 Apr 2009 04:26:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-04-02T01:45:41.868-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">tag zone</category><title>Tagged</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://hissweetheart.files.wordpress.com/2009/01/tagged.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 288px; height: 340px;" src="http://hissweetheart.files.wordpress.com/2009/01/tagged.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Got tagged after ages, I got tagged by two bloggies Zany and Carpe Diem,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Rules:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;1) Put your iTunes or any other media player on Shuffle...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;2)For each question, forward to next track to answer the question...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;3) Write down the track title, it might be a silly one...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;4) Tag other poor souls...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;a) If someone asks you "are you okay?" you say:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Loose yourself  &lt;/span&gt;(Eminem)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;b) How would you describe yourself?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jai Ho? &lt;/span&gt;(Slum dog M)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;c) What do you like in a girl/guy?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ajnabi Shehar (&lt;/span&gt;Jaan-e-mann)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;d) How do you feel today?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lovesick &lt;/span&gt;(Elize)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;e) What's your life purpose?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Singing Dam Di Da Doo &lt;/span&gt;(Eyeopener)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;f) What's your motto?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My happy ending &lt;/span&gt;(Avril  Lavigne)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;g) What do your friends feel about you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A never ending dream &lt;/span&gt;(cascada)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;h) What do your parents feel about you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ass like that &lt;/span&gt;(Eminem)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;i) What do you think of often?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jumping all over the world &lt;/span&gt;(Scooter)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;j) What is 2+2?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fuck it &lt;/span&gt;(Eamon)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;k) What do you think of your best friend?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;behind these hazel eyes &lt;/span&gt;(Kelly Clarkson)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;l) What is your life story?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;doesn't matter &lt;/span&gt;( Hypasonic)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;m) What do you want to be when you grow up?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;mohabbat apse &lt;/span&gt;( Aa Dekhe Zara)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;n) what do you think when you come across the person you like most?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my sacrifice &lt;/span&gt;(creed)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;o) what will you dance to at you wedding?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sexy naughty bitchy me&lt;/span&gt; (Lene Alexandra)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;p) what will they play at your funeral ?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;insomnia &lt;/span&gt;(Craig David)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;q) what is your hobby?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sutta na milaa &lt;/span&gt;(Zeest)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;r) what is your biggest fear?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;beautiful life &lt;/span&gt;(Ace of base)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;s) what is your biggest secret?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love in the club &lt;/span&gt;(Usher)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;t) what do you want right now?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all the things she said &lt;/span&gt;(Tatu)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;u) what do you think of your friends?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Last goodbye (Avenue)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;v) &lt;/span&gt;when you rush into the washroom, what do you think?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sab khairiyath hai &lt;/span&gt;(13B)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;w) The person you hate the most is in front of you, what will you tell to that person?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;another day in paradise &lt;/span&gt;(Phil Collins)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;x) you have just won a lottery, what will you sing?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;beautiful thing &lt;/span&gt;( Soulcast)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;y) What will you post this as?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Shake that ass girl &lt;/span&gt;(50cent)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I'm done, now Sajesh and Sindhu will do the tag...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&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/21991499-8145163340826925122?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/dhUsJ2mFjt8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/dhUsJ2mFjt8/tagged.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/04/tagged.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-2246401537660512106</guid><pubDate>Sun, 15 Mar 2009 09:44:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-03-15T06:36:45.987-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">life</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">me..</category><title>Spring break</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SbzaN5UcA0I/AAAAAAAABoA/m7kdLpm5UBk/s1600-h/spring_break_2009_tshirt-p2354166113307631543lcr_400.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SbzaN5UcA0I/AAAAAAAABoA/m7kdLpm5UBk/s200/spring_break_2009_tshirt-p2354166113307631543lcr_400.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313361592650040130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;We pre-planned many things for spring break but none were executed. We planned to go California for spring break, but very few have come forward for that trip. So, no California, I felt bad that I will not be able to visit California. California, I can definitely say that it's my second home after India. Anyways, then we thought of Colorado springs, and many have okied for this trip. But we couldn't plan for that because of lack of communication among us. So, no Colorado too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;One of my roomie saw a super deal in hertz for car rentals, 60 bucks for 2 days, now that was a sexy deal. So, he rented the car and we haven't decided anything yet. That night we went to Indie dancers (strip bar), that was day one. Day two, we started playing PlayStation, bought 6 controllers and there we go. We never moved from our chairs playing PlayStation. Day three, we decided to go snowboarding somewhere near Chicago. After that we went to Go-karting, then Industrial strip bar and back to our apt. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Even though we couldn't do much in the spring break but we got the much needed break from our off-campus jobs, esply me. I didn't want to take a break but eventually ended up taking break for 5 days, it was a welcome one for me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I'm waiting for May 13 to catch my flight to India, only two more months minus 2 days to go. I can't wait for that day anymore. In the meanwhile I have to get back into the groove of routine life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So, its time to get back to work...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-2246401537660512106?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/CoIFetm6Ajs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/CoIFetm6Ajs/spring-break.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SbzaN5UcA0I/AAAAAAAABoA/m7kdLpm5UBk/s72-c/spring_break_2009_tshirt-p2354166113307631543lcr_400.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/03/spring-break.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-1548882444938184347</guid><pubDate>Mon, 02 Mar 2009 11:36:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-03-02T07:36:20.844-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">life</category><title>Words...</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://dipsyg.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/_words_can_hurt_or_heal_small.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 288px; height: 336px;" src="http://dipsyg.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/_words_can_hurt_or_heal_small.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Words dominate everything, we use 'em up to express for what we wanna say. For our deepest feelings that we depress doesn't come out that way, the exact way we wanted to express. And in a blink there's always a misinterpretation ambushing. Understanding the words that's not meant to be, the bitterly twisted ones, the meanings which get lost in a flash, never gonna be easy. Words are murderous, they will for sure cut deep into you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Better think more than twice before using 'em, for now and forever. Because the words that has been spoken out loud can never be undone...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-1548882444938184347?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/n6ZfJocDkhg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/n6ZfJocDkhg/words.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/03/words.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-7619700533054382011</guid><pubDate>Fri, 27 Feb 2009 14:11:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-02-28T07:34:41.732-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Romantic</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">poem</category><title>you...</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.craigharper.com.au/uploaded_images/chick-742135.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 425px; height: 282px;" src="http://www.craigharper.com.au/uploaded_images/chick-742135.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;That one smile was enough to show,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; how beautiful the life is with you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; and without you, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I smiled back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&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/21991499-7619700533054382011?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/5dxYFODjuZE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/5dxYFODjuZE/you.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/you.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-309469367864860863</guid><pubDate>Mon, 23 Feb 2009 08:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-02-23T19:24:40.186-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">India</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">oscars</category><title>Jai Ho!</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SaLVzHImNPI/AAAAAAAABk0/JztZx0-oTbg/s1600-h/n760840462_6081869_4938.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 302px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SaLVzHImNPI/AAAAAAAABk0/JztZx0-oTbg/s320/n760840462_6081869_4938.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306038385061016818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I didn't know how to express my happiness while watching the 81st Annual Academy awards show, each award given to slumdog millionaire made me clap and whistle hard. The words of Resul Pookutty "Thank you, Academy, this not just a sound award, this is history being handed over to me", who won Oscar for Sound mixing along with Ian Tapp and Richard Pryke, brought goosebumps to me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And then, Rahman bhai winning ek nahi balki dho' (2) Oscars was truly amazing. His performance on the stage was terrific and I didn't see any nervousness in him, all I could see is the confidence of taking home the Oscars in his eyes. He won two Oscar awards for Best Original score and Best OST (Jai Ho...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Frankly speaking I always have hated Oscar awards judgement for being most unpredictable and unexpected in nature, but for the first time it seemed predictable, in every category where slumdog millionaire was featured it won! except one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And, on the finishing note, I thank Director Danny Boyle who won the best director award for opening the doors for India to win its share of Oscar awards...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript" src="http://widgets.clearspring.com/o/496e682876b273c0/49a2d5a08db7b047/496e682876b273c0/a5c405a9/widget.js"&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-309469367864860863?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/xQCw0yq1QIQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/xQCw0yq1QIQ/jai-ho_23.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SaLVzHImNPI/AAAAAAAABk0/JztZx0-oTbg/s72-c/n760840462_6081869_4938.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/jai-ho_23.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-8539149379458733595</guid><pubDate>Sat, 21 Feb 2009 10:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-02-21T06:32:28.828-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">bollywood</category><title>Delhi 6</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SZ_jnQPBwsI/AAAAAAAABkA/WyqZfTQITAM/s1600-h/7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 152px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SZ_jnQPBwsI/AAAAAAAABkA/WyqZfTQITAM/s200/7.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305209149578134210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Jiyo A R Rahman Jiyo, Yuraaj got its money because of you and I have no doubts that its gonna be the same with Delhi 6. Awesome background music which is actually a respite to these movies. Anyways, coming to Delhi 6, casting is very much apt and my favorite character was of Rishi Kapoor's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I felt like Delhi 6 was Swades part 2, delhi wala thing is little boring here. Boring climax, there's nothing really exciting in this movie. Now, I don't wanna see anymore communal riots thing or untouchable thing in  movies, yaar cmon India has come long way now. Yeah, there are still such things happening but the intensity is pretty low compared to the early 80's and late 90's, got tired of the bhashans.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I'm desperately waiting for munnabhai kinda flicks. Well, don't worry delhi 6 isn't that bad, we can watch once for sure. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&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/21991499-8539149379458733595?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/oMi8a9v3TWQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/oMi8a9v3TWQ/delhi-6.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SZ_jnQPBwsI/AAAAAAAABkA/WyqZfTQITAM/s72-c/7.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/delhi-6.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-6309938235719739210</guid><pubDate>Tue, 17 Feb 2009 08:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-02-17T03:54:00.463-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">crap</category><title>Cross-dominance</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SZp4Wm-DIkI/AAAAAAAABjg/eKx1YTABvjk/s1600-h/Ambidextrous.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SZp4Wm-DIkI/AAAAAAAABjg/eKx1YTABvjk/s200/Ambidextrous.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303683840995435074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.burtmountain.com/images/Ambidextrous.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Long long ago when I was a toddler, I used to use my left-hand for everything. I always had a fascination to be a south-paw. But I donno when I became a right-hander, well I suppose my mom should have had played a major role in that, transforming me into a right-handed. It's considered that left-hand should be used for certain things only and my aunt used to specify it whenever I used to forward my left-hand for anything offered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;One day when I started playing cricket, I was very attracted to left-handed batsmen and bowlers. I tried my hand and was able to bowl and bat left-hand with ease and then I realised I have equal dominance with left-hand too. And, from there on I started enjoying playing both right and left-hand batting and bowling. In football I'm a leftie by default. This makes me unique in someway or another. Ambidexterity is a well known but amazingly rare variant of cross-dominance.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;There are few famous Cross-dominant like me - Leonardo da Vinci, Einstein, Oscar Wilde, Michelangelo, Benjamin Franklin, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi and Shawn Michaels (WWE Superstar) and and most important live example my library sir at school, I saw him writing with both hands.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So, this makes obvious prediction that someone is due becoming famous pretty soon! [;)]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-6309938235719739210?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/nuiuNbEqgxg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/nuiuNbEqgxg/cross-dominance.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SZp4Wm-DIkI/AAAAAAAABjg/eKx1YTABvjk/s72-c/Ambidextrous.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/cross-dominance.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-8877620355619719700</guid><pubDate>Sat, 14 Feb 2009 17:43:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-02-14T14:07:32.266-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">life</category><title>X O ...</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SZcIGAE3nLI/AAAAAAAABjY/avUDB0Z9CuY/s1600-h/happy_valentines_day.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 166px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SZcIGAE3nLI/AAAAAAAABjY/avUDB0Z9CuY/s200/happy_valentines_day.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302715985444707506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Love at times is said to be very difficult thing to find. And, once you find the true and selfless love then it lasts forever, but not everyone is that lucky. This love is a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;fantabulous&lt;/span&gt; experience felt by a person for another person. Love isn't built by a singular feeling but it's built from more than one feeling. Love is the most sweetest thing and also worst nightmare that can hunt you entire life if you don't get accepted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Well, I don't advise not to look out for your love, who knows you might just get luckier. Anyways, I wish everyone a very happy valentine's day and pray that everyone finds their love and none with a "nightmare!". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Mohabbat mohabbat milegi chal ke do kadam &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Saathi se mil jaayenge &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Baharein phir khil jaayenge &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Chal ke do kadam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;X O X O&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Brutey&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-8877620355619719700?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/SrpKcEqr4Lo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/SrpKcEqr4Lo/x-o.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SZcIGAE3nLI/AAAAAAAABjY/avUDB0Z9CuY/s72-c/happy_valentines_day.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/x-o.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-8403736480427731967</guid><pubDate>Wed, 11 Feb 2009 11:33:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-02-11T07:14:48.801-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">general</category><title>Recession time!</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.americanconsumernews.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/01/recession.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 594px; height: 387px;" src="http://www.americanconsumernews.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/01/recession.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unemployment has been climbing from ages ago and now it reached its peak at this time. Stock markets have been jittery all over. And, then the official declaration of &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;recession&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every company is practicing cost cutting now, layoffs has became the favorite game of all the companies around the world (hey bud, we have fired 20k! what about you guys, huh? 5k? bullshit man!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is an old joke among economists that states:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A recession is when your neighbor loses his job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A depression is when you lose your job.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Recession is like the period of depression when a guy gets rejected after proposing a girl. It takes time to overcome that. One needs to be in good spirits to survive this crisis period. A recession generally lasts from six to 18 months, lets wait then...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-8403736480427731967?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/PNcukhYe1wM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/PNcukhYe1wM/recession-time.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/recession-time.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-6736386005002418610</guid><pubDate>Fri, 06 Feb 2009 08:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-02-06T00:33:31.708-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">me..</category><title>Older by one more year...</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://assets.babycenter.com/ims/2007/07july/20070716/E002791.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 424px; height: 302px;" src="http://assets.babycenter.com/ims/2007/07july/20070716/E002791.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This day that year ('06) I had no idea that I would grow this old from the day I started scribbling, and gradually days passed and then weeks and now years! I'm 3 years old now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-6736386005002418610?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/ckKxLWcJifs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/ckKxLWcJifs/older-by-one-more-year.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/older-by-one-more-year.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-4537529194127925261</guid><pubDate>Mon, 19 Jan 2009 10:28:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-19T07:07:59.171-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">the story</category><title>Dad, I'm in love  (The End)</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2311/2127310513_9256d2bd66.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 333px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2311/2127310513_9256d2bd66.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Continued from &lt;a href="http://www.brutescolumn.com/search/label/the%20story"&gt;here...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh! and so the request for Goa..., " I sighed looking at him. I saw aditi and then my eyes traveled to the person who was setting the umbrella. He looked familiar, I walked closer towards him to have a good look. I then looked at the female who was helping him, it was Mayuri  Ram's wife. So, this cutie pie is Ram's huh, good good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ahem!" I stood behind them to surprise them. Mayuri looked back, "Avi... Kya baat hai! this is totally a big surprise, Harini, where's she?"&lt;br /&gt;Ram, hugged me as soon as he saw me. "You haven't changed Avi, you look the same..." , Mayuri said with a smile. "Neither you have," I replied back to her. I gestured Harini and Rohan to come. "Ram, this is my wife Harini and my son Rohan. And, hari, this is Ram and his wife Mayuri, and aditi their daughter..." I said. "How do you know aditi?" Ram asked in surprise. "That's because these both are in the same class..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, so we got company to enjoy the remaining days in Goa. After a week full of enjoyment we headed back to Hyderabad. Ram was in US for 10 years and now he's returned back to India for good and he's staying in Hyderabad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After returning back to home, I remembered that I totally forgot about Rohan's love story. I didn't want to waste any time now. I went to his room and took him on to my lap and said, "Rohan, I wanted to tell you something important. We met aditi's parents right? they are our relatives and Ram is my cousin, he's elder brother to me and so aditi will become..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Will become sister to me..." Rohan shot back to me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm... I never thought that my son's first crush would blow off in this manner...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/21991499-4537529194127925261?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/xZ6pIZ-JzfQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/xZ6pIZ-JzfQ/dad-im-in-love-end.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/01/dad-im-in-love-end.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-2575304406220209487</guid><pubDate>Wed, 14 Jan 2009 15:45:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-14T10:52:07.932-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">music</category><title>Jiya Se Jiya</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Check out the new AR Rahman's track &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;jiya se jiya&lt;/span&gt; video where everything in this video is real with exception of AR Rahman frames which is staged. This beautiful track breaks the barriers laid by different religions and castes and preaches oneness among Indians!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Y4Nk_UgHdj0&amp;amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;amp;color2=0xcfcfcf&amp;amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Y4Nk_UgHdj0&amp;amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;amp;color2=0xcfcfcf&amp;amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-2575304406220209487?l=www.brutescolumn.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~4/JXnOT10qnZg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/brutescolumn/GSmN/~3/JXnOT10qnZg/jiya-se-jiya.html</link><author>hunky4gals@gmail.com (brute)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/01/jiya-se-jiya.html</feedburner:origLink></item></channel></rss>
