<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;CkQEQn06fyp7ImA9WhRUFU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673</id><updated>2012-01-25T22:05:03.317+08:00</updated><title>Out from the Toilet</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>1315</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/toilet" /><feedburner:info xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" uri="toilet" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><link rel="license" type="text/html" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/" /><logo>http://creativecommons.org/images/public/somerights20.gif</logo><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkAEQn89cSp7ImA9WhRVFUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-6389573625937377907</id><published>2012-01-15T00:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-15T00:31:43.169+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-15T00:31:43.169+08:00</app:edited><title /><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/6389573625937377907/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=6389573625937377907&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/6389573625937377907?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/6389573625937377907?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2012/01/haiyooooooo.html" title="" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Haiyooooooo. Why is it so difficult to plan a holiday?&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=7G9U7DjO2mA:eV7EvN3Qg0E:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkAASXs4fip7ImA9WhRVEk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-7402153365793912050</id><published>2012-01-10T23:12:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-10T23:19:08.536+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-10T23:19:08.536+08:00</app:edited><title>Corners kill.</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/7402153365793912050/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=7402153365793912050&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/7402153365793912050?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/7402153365793912050?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2012/01/corners-kill.html" title="Corners kill." /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Our office is a hazardous place. We should refrain from hurting ourselves by taking our time to walk around boxes and tables; walk with care. &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=XZeHeZEeEk0:_d1Ot8FPID0:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUUHQXk-fCp7ImA9WhRVEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-8358284597132293391</id><published>2012-01-09T21:48:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-09T21:53:50.754+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-09T21:53:50.754+08:00</app:edited><title>Lactobacillus</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/8358284597132293391/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=8358284597132293391&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/8358284597132293391?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/8358284597132293391?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2012/01/lactobacillus.html" title="Lactobacillus" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I think I would've thoroughly enjoyed that green tea froyo in Melbourne if only I acquired the taste much, much earlier. That was 5 dollars down the drain. &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=Zk4nMuygQI0:U1XpbzHgtzQ:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEMHRn09eCp7ImA9WhRWGU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-5173071981587674827</id><published>2012-01-07T15:43:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-07T15:47:17.360+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-07T15:47:17.360+08:00</app:edited><title>"I love going to coffee places like this!"</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/5173071981587674827/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=5173071981587674827&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/5173071981587674827?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/5173071981587674827?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2012/01/i.html" title="&quot;I love going to coffee places like this!&quot;" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I'm sorry. I can't help but listen in on a mother-daughter conversation going on behind me. That little girl is going to grow up like a princess. &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=rG802Xm2rXI:TvvIzBaciY0:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEIGQnszeCp7ImA9WhRWGU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-8705263488317369080</id><published>2011-12-29T22:22:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-07T15:48:43.580+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-07T15:48:43.580+08:00</app:edited><title>He hurt himself again.</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/8705263488317369080/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=8705263488317369080&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/8705263488317369080?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/8705263488317369080?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/12/he-broke-something-again.html" title="He hurt himself again." /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I find it funny when Dad is hurt. He treats it as if nothing is wrong. He twisted his ankle recently (swollen now) and didn't say anything. Even resting his good leg on his bad (eating an apple looking all leisurely). He still drives and walks around carrying stuff while we fuss around him. Wonder if Mum knows about this.. This brings back memories for when he fractured his arm at his company's &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=ZR6azsYHd-8:cQm0o7kISRE:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcFRnc4cCp7ImA9WhRXEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-7439470081642231057</id><published>2011-12-17T18:02:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-17T18:16:57.938+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-17T18:16:57.938+08:00</app:edited><title>Incontinence</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/7439470081642231057/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=7439470081642231057&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/7439470081642231057?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/7439470081642231057?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/12/incontinence.html" title="Incontinence" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">There is nothing to be ashamed about incontinence. Honestly. It's not like you did it to yourself. Heck, you can even get it from having babies via natural birth! Just use incontinence products like adult diapers or do some exercises to strengthen the walls if you can help it. That helps for child birth, I read. Anyway, it's embarrassing but it's not the end of the world.&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=tjMnovu-lsQ:eHsnLvI02d8:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0INQXw4fyp7ImA9WhRXEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-507986165966412078</id><published>2011-12-17T17:25:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-17T17:53:10.237+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-17T17:53:10.237+08:00</app:edited><title>Bunneh!</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/507986165966412078/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=507986165966412078&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/507986165966412078?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/507986165966412078?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/12/bunneh.html" title="Bunneh!" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">How did the playboy bunny outfit become so famous ah? Is it the women that filled the costume or the idea of bunnies being cute? Some bunny outfits have rat ears. *shiver* Kinda cheesy halloween costume. But then again, it's a must have. Just like how princesses, fairies, and ghost blankets are a must have. Maybe someday someone can be a bunny rarer with bunnies coming out of his / her pockets &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=N2m_K6j9Aak:how1mF7ASHA:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUEHRHk6eyp7ImA9WhRXEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-5741392034021192429</id><published>2011-12-17T17:01:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-17T17:20:35.713+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-17T17:20:35.713+08:00</app:edited><title>Black diamonds</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/5741392034021192429/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=5741392034021192429&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/5741392034021192429?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/5741392034021192429?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/12/black-diamonds.html" title="Black diamonds" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I remember I was given some faux black pearls as a kid. They were fun! As I grew up, my taste for jewelry evolved from bangles, clip-on earrings to nothing. Occasionally, I'd wear the cosmetic jewelry that I was given for functions. Now I kinda like diamonds. :) *Never seen black diamond earrings in my life*But ultimately, I'm a bit more practical and would love stainless steel jewelry. XD &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=E8zGfLj_t1o:JVHGX3QdTGM:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEMBRn4zfSp7ImA9WhRXEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-6273664853256534337</id><published>2011-12-17T16:56:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-17T17:00:57.085+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-17T17:00:57.085+08:00</app:edited><title>I've never been to prom!</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/6273664853256534337/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=6273664853256534337&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/6273664853256534337?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/6273664853256534337?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/12/ive-never-been-to-prom.html" title="I've never been to prom!" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Yep. So I spend my time looking at  prom dresses 2012 and evening gowns 2012. Never in my life would I have thought I'd have the chance to wear an evening gown until the office was invited to attend an Awards Night. It was weird walking down from the lobby to the car. Could have been more elegant. But everyone else was not dressed to the nines. -_-&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=rp2qqDdiw7w:by-MVwLXNyM:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0QMRH05eSp7ImA9WhRQEks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-3512753093495389367</id><published>2011-12-07T21:34:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-07T21:43:05.321+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-07T21:43:05.321+08:00</app:edited><title>Outsourced</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/3512753093495389367/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=3512753093495389367&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/3512753093495389367?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/3512753093495389367?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/12/outsourced.html" title="Outsourced" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">What's the difference between DVD duplication and replication?Dictionary.com can't seem to tell the difference. But what I got was that duplication is a copy exactly like the original whereas replication is like mass producing. Yeah? Anyway, ever since I started working, I find it super easy to outsource your work to another party. Get your stuff printed and cut at a printers! Seriously, don't &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=utwtC8ZPae8:GfyhgnVgHHQ:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkcFRn04fyp7ImA9WhRREk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-6176606404566837821</id><published>2011-11-25T21:29:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-11-25T21:33:37.337+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-25T21:33:37.337+08:00</app:edited><title>Think!</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/6176606404566837821/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=6176606404566837821&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/6176606404566837821?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/6176606404566837821?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/11/think.html" title="Think!" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I'm so paranoid about privacy I don't ever let those games track my whereabouts or input my home address in the GPS. Those GPS vehicle tracking things are a god send though. But movies also got show la.. People with bad intentions can use it to track your whereabouts. So don't be a ninny and input your home address in it. Anything can happen.&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=Tv5Oxjuvqlg:-6jKvW4DMos:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU8AQn4_fCp7ImA9WhRTFk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-5690371176330443223</id><published>2011-11-07T02:20:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-11-07T02:24:03.044+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-07T02:24:03.044+08:00</app:edited><title>POS systems</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/5690371176330443223/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=5690371176330443223&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/5690371176330443223?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/5690371176330443223?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/11/pos-systems.html" title="POS systems" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">You know, the POS industry is pretty small. One of the big guys already have their POS systems installed at the biggest F&amp;amp;B brands in the market. And they're growing bigger and bigger. Buy their stocks :) The technology is the same but the service can be better because that's where value is created! Who wants great technology if there's no one to help you with it if it kongs?&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=x32KYU37TJg:vtVUfUhMFFw:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU8NQncyfCp7ImA9WhdUGUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-3158420016912913109</id><published>2011-10-07T19:22:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-07T19:44:53.994+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-07T19:44:53.994+08:00</app:edited><title>Proposal songs</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/3158420016912913109/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=3158420016912913109&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/3158420016912913109?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/3158420016912913109?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/10/proposal-songs.html" title="Proposal songs" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I just read and watched the video of a guy proposing to his girlfriend with the song 'Marry You' by Bruno Mars.It was touching, teary and all. Lovely.But why that particular song?'Cause it's a beautiful nightWe're looking for something dumb to doHey babyI think I wanna marry you...If we wake up and youwanna break up, that's coolNo, I won't blame youIt was fun, girlThat's not very positive..But if&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=L-zGKwCer5E:UOYAforxqb0:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4GRHs7fSp7ImA9WhdUGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-2640705590398057159</id><published>2011-10-07T00:12:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-07T00:18:45.505+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-07T00:18:45.505+08:00</app:edited><title>Career?</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/2640705590398057159/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=2640705590398057159&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/2640705590398057159?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/2640705590398057159?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/10/career.html" title="Career?" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I vaguely remember baby telling me that he wanted to look into Concierge Jobs. I'm pretty sure I'm wrong, but I really remember someone telling me that. I looked for jobs in the hotel line, too. Used to. Wanted to be in the hotel line, you see? But didn't persevere as production was my passion. Now HR's pretty great, too. Lots of exciting, stressful stuff. So many things I want to do. &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=A5zDRiqQukA:gEOQJtjAvIc:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUIHRHs5fyp7ImA9WhdUGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-7600058783947200736</id><published>2011-10-07T00:06:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-07T00:12:15.527+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-07T00:12:15.527+08:00</app:edited><title>They're definitely appreciated.</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/7600058783947200736/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=7600058783947200736&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/7600058783947200736?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/7600058783947200736?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/10/theyre-definitely-appreciated.html" title="They're definitely appreciated." /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I always thought that long service gifts were either watches or gold necklaces. Standard. I was right. But little did I know that the necklaces were THAT thick!And can you imagine if this staff has been in service for 30 years, how thick the necklace would be?! Anyway, gold is dropping, I heard. But it'll go up eventually. So, kids, make sure to include gold in your portfolio of investments. &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=Bk4T81849Nc:Vl8mD7t9SJM:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0QAQHo8fip7ImA9WhdXF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-6428199473364791261</id><published>2011-08-30T23:39:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-30T23:49:01.476+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-30T23:49:01.476+08:00</app:edited><title>Sell sell sell!</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/6428199473364791261/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=6428199473364791261&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/6428199473364791261?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/6428199473364791261?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/08/sell-sell-sell.html" title="Sell sell sell!" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Apparently with the potential money crisis that's expecting to happen in the world, people are being advised to hold cash. So they're selling property as fast as they can. Hearsay. 

But if you do have extra change, it'd be great to hold property. The market will eventually go up wert. So having Table Rock real estate at the Ozarks would have been great. As a holiday home. Yeah? 


&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=GerIQg2mnfU:bLfwxF0sQ-A:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE8NSXY7fyp7ImA9WhdXF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-8754432544912597502</id><published>2011-08-30T23:04:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-30T23:08:18.807+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-30T23:08:18.807+08:00</app:edited><title>Light me up!</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/8754432544912597502/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=8754432544912597502&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/8754432544912597502?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/8754432544912597502?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/08/light-me-up.html" title="Light me up!" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">If you live in a seasonal country and are looking for heaters, I suppose getting an infrared heater would be great. It won't involve real flames and possibly cheaper than using gas(?). Also, it's electrically controlled. Right? Sure, it is. 

In the unlikely event that the circuit goes haywire (because there's something called quality assurance!), get out of the house. 

&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=Q8pOJhs34uQ:MNjGz350Fw0:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUEGR3s6eSp7ImA9WhdQFko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-6771896308144625363</id><published>2011-08-18T22:21:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-18T22:27:06.511+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-18T22:27:06.511+08:00</app:edited><title>Who would've given it a second thought?</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/6771896308144625363/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=6771896308144625363&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/6771896308144625363?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/6771896308144625363?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/08/who-wouldve-given-it-second-thought.html" title="Who would've given it a second thought?" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Who would've known that I'd have some mini link with receipt printers and POS systems?? 

Since he started working at the company, he's shared his day with me and what he does around the office. Even when we go out, he'd stick his head closer to check out the printers and register. He's fixed a printer without help and he keeps doing more things that awe me as a working professional to another. &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=Pnwhn2IDQTc:nNNT68Plg9Y:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE8DSH89fCp7ImA9WhdQFko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-2295999024080059286</id><published>2011-08-18T22:01:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-18T22:14:39.164+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-18T22:14:39.164+08:00</app:edited><title>Cuff links</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/2295999024080059286/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=2295999024080059286&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/2295999024080059286?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/2295999024080059286?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/08/cuff-links.html" title="Cuff links" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Do you think a fresh graduate is too young to wear cuff links? 

Unlike Jon's, they weren't personalized cuff links. They were just plain matte silver. And he really looked a little out of place. -_-

Perhaps I've got the impression that only older, well-to-do men wear cuff links. And that's what I see all the time. Or when young men dress up a bit.

&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=1qhxVY-UYN4:QxZf9jCme7Y:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0ICR3Y7cSp7ImA9WhdQE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-7311162471259846143</id><published>2011-08-15T00:56:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-15T01:06:06.809+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-15T01:06:06.809+08:00</app:edited><title>Search terms</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/7311162471259846143/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=7311162471259846143&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/7311162471259846143?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/7311162471259846143?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/08/search-terms.html" title="Search terms" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">People use different keywords to look for things. Let's say you're looking for trucking in The Source, you'd either use what I just wrote, or use "The Source jobs in trucking". So many ways to put it. That's why when some people ask you, Hey, I can't find further information on this using this search term. How do you find stuff like that?. I'll be thinking, Have you tried other keywords?? *sweat/&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=uZ6PXGjB5tI:CZgMFzymNCg:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck4HQ386cCp7ImA9WhdQE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-6154785276455503287</id><published>2011-08-15T00:49:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-15T00:55:32.118+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-15T00:55:32.118+08:00</app:edited><title>Mother's Day bouquets</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/6154785276455503287/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=6154785276455503287&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/6154785276455503287?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/6154785276455503287?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/08/mothers-day-bouquets.html" title="Mother's Day bouquets" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Sometimes when I think about it, why are we all buying the same arrangements for mum when it comes to Mama's Day or whatever? Consumerism and convenience? 

It's convenient and you won't have to waste time telling the florist about what you want and how you want it. True. But I prefer having custom flowers. I'll make my own arrangement and spruce it up a little. It'll be a wee bit nerve-wrecking &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=CG27pVx-NGk:CEpv6gd8RHo:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkMFSXw9fip7ImA9WhdQE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-6928874035671884443</id><published>2011-08-15T00:43:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-15T00:46:58.266+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-15T00:46:58.266+08:00</app:edited><title>Emergency roadside assistance</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/6928874035671884443/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=6928874035671884443&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/6928874035671884443?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/6928874035671884443?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/08/emergency-roadside-assistance.html" title="Emergency roadside assistance" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">After reading finding out about the steps my cousin took while on the highway with a flat tyre, I thought about what I would do in a situation like that. There are too many roadside accidents going on today. Don't rush it if you have to change the tyre. Called  emergency roadside assistance and wait out of the car. Away from it even. Some dumbass might not see the big chunk of metal by the side &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=9oNnPPzhwzU:91AhOJMVWIs:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkYCRns8fCp7ImA9WhdQE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-8706201767252151841</id><published>2011-08-15T00:35:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-15T00:42:47.574+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-15T00:42:47.574+08:00</app:edited><title>Social security</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/8706201767252151841/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=8706201767252151841&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/8706201767252151841?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/8706201767252151841?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/08/social-security.html" title="Social security" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I wonder if we have something akin to USA's social security disability insurance. Oh wait. Yes, we do. It's called SOCSO. Did you know that once you start paying for SOCSO, you'll pay for life? Even if you started off in the non-paying income bracket and move your way up. But then again, always check the official site for more accurate information. 

&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=zuOePLX3F28:JePyKxdnlgM:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUMRH46fip7ImA9WhdXF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-8108538825768942105</id><published>2011-08-12T23:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-30T23:31:25.016+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-30T23:31:25.016+08:00</app:edited><title>Get insurance</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/8108538825768942105/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=8108538825768942105&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/8108538825768942105?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/8108538825768942105?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/08/get-insurance.html" title="Get insurance" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Did I mentioned that I couldn't in my life ever thought I'd talk much about life insurance? High risk life insurance no less??

You buy probiotics because it helps with the purging when you do get an ache. You hold an umbrella so that you'd be protected if it rains. For that extra coverage and hold, you use translucent powder after your foundation. Insurance in everyday situations! 

When you get&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=Sg3GGsxZJFs:0T8RAiHwxmE:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE4FSXY5eip7ImA9WhdRF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17439673.post-4341134067068295905</id><published>2011-08-07T23:58:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-08T00:01:58.822+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-08T00:01:58.822+08:00</app:edited><title>Invites</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/feeds/4341134067068295905/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17439673&amp;postID=4341134067068295905&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/4341134067068295905?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17439673/posts/default/4341134067068295905?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://youcannotseemeiaminvisible.blogspot.com/2011/08/invites.html" title="Invites" /><author><name>Deng</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14864762038391185162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SEbYbPl6qs0/S8Rkk_a0a9I/AAAAAAAABXs/3ud6tGuM3Ng/S220/DSC00546+copy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">I wonder which of the gang's Wedding Shower Invitations (minus the S) will I get first.Miss Ho, maybe? (I look forward to seeing you soon! I hope!)I used to love collecting pretty invitations. They're just so pretty lah! I remember a greeting card from way before that had a mini Japanese hand fan on it. So cute. I kept that for 10 years or so before deciding o put it out in the open so someone &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?a=oKHbacP2dMo:M9-UQ9Hdkig:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/toilet?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content></entry></feed>

