<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746</id><updated>2011-09-06T21:23:46.945+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Losing Sleep</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>44</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-3729848152467217095</id><published>2009-11-28T15:06:00.026+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-28T16:44:14.422+08:00</updated><title type='text'>BAHAY KUBO EDUCATION</title><content type='html'>     I practically just revived a childhood curiosity when I was having a discussion with some of my friends last night about how I hated &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bamboo_shoot"&gt;LABONG&lt;/a&gt;. It took us almost half an hour to figure out what was the name of that "white vegetable like bamboo shoot" that I hated to the point that I had to ask Mr. Manong guard that was just standing there. He figured what the name was, So thanks to him I wouldn't lose sleep that night. But it actually got me to thinking about that song "Bahay Kubo". I don't know that just started it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     The folk song has been a part of my childhood, I remember singing it while going through the vegetables when I was a little child with my mom in the local wet and dry market. But then I would only know SOME of the vegetables in the song. I know that deep down inside me I wanted to learn what the other one's that I didn't know were. I really wanted to know, I tried to ask people but they can't seem to find the English equivalent of BATAW, KUNDOL, SIGARILYAS and then the others. I realized the sad reality that most Filipino's are not familiar with the native names of not only our vegetables, but most of the things here in the country. Maybe it was the education system, maybe it was the lack of learning materials, maybe It just sounded better calling it "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Green Beans&lt;/span&gt;" instead of "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sitaw&lt;/span&gt;". So for the sake of my own curiosity and education of the general population, I google-wiki'd all of them and created this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The song starts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Bahay kubo, kahit munti,&lt;br /&gt;ang halaman duon ay sari-sari....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Singkamas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Singkamas &lt;/span&gt;is the Mexican Turnip, No it's not a Turnip&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDTiXC0gDI/AAAAAAAAAEw/zJ901bqh3ME/s1600/Mexican+Turnips.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 234px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDTiXC0gDI/AAAAAAAAAEw/zJ901bqh3ME/s320/Mexican+Turnips.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409055739726823474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDTiEqNQsI/AAAAAAAAAEo/nZ9HyFVc1Hc/s1600/turnip1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 234px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDTiEqNQsI/AAAAAAAAAEo/nZ9HyFVc1Hc/s320/turnip1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409055734791750338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&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;br /&gt;&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;br /&gt;&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;at talong&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Talong &lt;/span&gt;is the eggplant... nuff said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDUzXLidtI/AAAAAAAAAFA/_4jNuRaSaFk/s1600/talong+(1).jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 234px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDUzXLidtI/AAAAAAAAAFA/_4jNuRaSaFk/s320/talong+(1).jpg" border="0" alt=""id="id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409057131332794066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDUy5AdNqI/AAAAAAAAAE4/jc2smt5lQLE/s1600/talong.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 234px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDUy5AdNqI/AAAAAAAAAE4/jc2smt5lQLE/s320/talong.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409057123233248930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Sigarilyas at mani.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sigarillas, Sigadillas or Sigarilyas&lt;/span&gt; is the Winged Bean&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDWM0hbakI/AAAAAAAAAFI/sU6VMavp6dM/s1600/sigarilyas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 234px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDWM0hbakI/AAAAAAAAAFI/sU6VMavp6dM/s320/sigarilyas.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409058668217592386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Mani &lt;/span&gt;is the peanut... And yeah... ok it's the peanut&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDXFSQR39I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/1VJC7ZB7tnU/s1600/peanuts-peeled.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 234px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDXFSQR39I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/1VJC7ZB7tnU/s320/peanuts-peeled.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409059638271401938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Sitaw, bataw, patani.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sitaw &lt;/span&gt;is the string bean, most of the time we purchase the Chinese long bean type in the market&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDYO6qua4I/AAAAAAAAAFY/vL7Yk1vEIuk/s1600/sitaw.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 234px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDYO6qua4I/AAAAAAAAAFY/vL7Yk1vEIuk/s320/sitaw.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409060903250193282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Bataw &lt;/span&gt;is the Hyacinth Bean... Yeah, I know, wtf is that? It's from a flower!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDZKkLLjMI/AAAAAAAAAFg/FlPcNciBCSM/s1600/bataw.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDZKkLLjMI/AAAAAAAAAFg/FlPcNciBCSM/s320/bataw.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409061928004455618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;   &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDZ9hrZz1I/AAAAAAAAAFo/QPj9OPmj-Qo/s1600/bataw2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 270px; height: 203px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDZ9hrZz1I/AAAAAAAAAFo/QPj9OPmj-Qo/s320/bataw2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409062803507629906" /&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Patani &lt;/span&gt;is the Lima Bean&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDayJqFyaI/AAAAAAAAAFw/2MOqPjCkR60/s1600/patani.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 253px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDayJqFyaI/AAAAAAAAAFw/2MOqPjCkR60/s320/patani.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409063707592739234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Kundol, patola, upo't kalabasa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Kundol &lt;/span&gt;is the winter melon, but I think we are more familiar with the candy version&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDbiGMKkKI/AAAAAAAAAGA/c7zRuZEXQMk/s1600/kundol.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 245px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDbiGMKkKI/AAAAAAAAAGA/c7zRuZEXQMk/s320/kundol.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409064531295637666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDbhxJ45DI/AAAAAAAAAF4/_6W2z0_kwII/s1600/kundol+candy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 234px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDbhxJ45DI/AAAAAAAAAF4/_6W2z0_kwII/s320/kundol+candy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409064525648946226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Patola &lt;/span&gt;is the Ridged Gourd or may be called "Luffa"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDcW2FrYDI/AAAAAAAAAGI/qnLEoVonAew/s1600/patola.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDcW2FrYDI/AAAAAAAAAGI/qnLEoVonAew/s320/patola.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409065437506527282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upo is the Bottle Gourd&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDcwkbpg0I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/-N5sxlUCSIg/s1600/upo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDcwkbpg0I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/-N5sxlUCSIg/s320/upo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409065879443440450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Kalabasa &lt;/span&gt;is the Squash&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDdehI4WcI/AAAAAAAAAGY/T5OcAyGR9a4/s1600/kalabasa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 149px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDdehI4WcI/AAAAAAAAAGY/T5OcAyGR9a4/s320/kalabasa.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409066668833397186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;At saka meron pa,&lt;br /&gt;Labanos, mustasa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Labanos is the White Radish&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDd5kS2eAI/AAAAAAAAAGg/3hwGRZSHaws/s1600/labanos.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 175px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDd5kS2eAI/AAAAAAAAAGg/3hwGRZSHaws/s320/labanos.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409067133536991234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Mustasa &lt;/span&gt;is the Mustard, and yes, that's where they get the sauce&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDehTwRnjI/AAAAAAAAAGo/UR_g5lCHOY0/s1600/mustasa.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDehTwRnjI/AAAAAAAAAGo/UR_g5lCHOY0/s320/mustasa.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409067816291769906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Sibuyas, kamatis,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sibuyas is the Onion, we normally use the Indian Type&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDfG0bH5NI/AAAAAAAAAGw/TxhhNiwERLM/s1600/sibuyas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 234px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDfG0bH5NI/AAAAAAAAAGw/TxhhNiwERLM/s320/sibuyas.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409068460716582098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Kamatis &lt;/span&gt;is the Tomato&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDflpdqpnI/AAAAAAAAAG4/4KJKbLwH3AM/s1600/kamatis.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDflpdqpnI/AAAAAAAAAG4/4KJKbLwH3AM/s320/kamatis.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409068990350403186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Bawang at luya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Bawang &lt;/span&gt;is the Garlic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDgj_dRBsI/AAAAAAAAAHA/EiBSRtIqN1g/s1600/bawang.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 250px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDgj_dRBsI/AAAAAAAAAHA/EiBSRtIqN1g/s320/bawang.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409070061406193346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDgkMCIHdI/AAAAAAAAAHI/n1zLVbhgjag/s1600/kumanderbawang.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDgkMCIHdI/AAAAAAAAAHI/n1zLVbhgjag/s320/kumanderbawang.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409070064782024146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Luya &lt;/span&gt;is the Ginger&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDgkdZkZ_I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/bvnfddZAjW0/s1600/luya.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 230px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDgkdZkZ_I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/bvnfddZAjW0/s320/luya.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409070069443749874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDgkntXpJI/AAAAAAAAAHY/t5QvfGdeCBc/s1600/gingerspice.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 253px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDgkntXpJI/AAAAAAAAAHY/t5QvfGdeCBc/s320/gingerspice.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409070072211154066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Sa paligid-ligid ay puno ng linga&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Linga &lt;/span&gt;is the Sesame, but we normally only use the seeds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDhD39o3BI/AAAAAAAAAHg/W0XNbDwgtCQ/s1600/sesamw.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 248px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDhD39o3BI/AAAAAAAAAHg/W0XNbDwgtCQ/s320/sesamw.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409070609150303250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-3729848152467217095?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/3729848152467217095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=3729848152467217095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/3729848152467217095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/3729848152467217095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2009/11/bahay-kubo-education.html' title='BAHAY KUBO EDUCATION'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/SxDTiXC0gDI/AAAAAAAAAEw/zJ901bqh3ME/s72-c/Mexican+Turnips.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-3039878739144987683</id><published>2008-09-24T09:48:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T10:32:46.425+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving Out</title><content type='html'>     &lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; 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&lt;!--  /* Font Definitions */  @font-face 	{font-family:"MS Mincho"; 	panose-1:2 2 6 9 4 2 5 8 3 4; 	mso-font-alt:"ＭＳ 明朝"; 	mso-font-charset:128; 	mso-generic-font-family:modern; 	mso-font-pitch:fixed; 	mso-font-signature:-1610612033 1757936891 16 0 131231 0;} @font-face 	{font-family:"Cambria Math"; 	panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; 	mso-font-charset:1; 	mso-generic-font-family:roman; 	mso-font-format:other; 	mso-font-pitch:variable; 	mso-font-signature:0 0 0 0 0 0;} @font-face 	{font-family:Calibri; 	panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; 	mso-font-charset:0; 	mso-generic-font-family:swiss; 	mso-font-pitch:variable; 	mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073750139 0 0 159 0;} @font-face 	{font-family:"\@MS Mincho"; 	panose-1:2 2 6 9 4 2 5 8 3 4; 	mso-font-charset:128; 	mso-generic-font-family:modern; 	mso-font-pitch:fixed; 	mso-font-signature:-1610612033 1757936891 16 0 131231 0;}  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-unhide:no; 	mso-style-qformat:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	margin-top:0in; 	margin-right:0in; 	margin-bottom:10.0pt; 	margin-left:0in; 	line-height:115%; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:11.0pt; 	font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; 	mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"MS Mincho"; 	mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; 	mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoChpDefault 	{mso-style-type:export-only; 	mso-default-props:yes; 	mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"MS Mincho"; 	mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; 	mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoPapDefault 	{mso-style-type:export-only; 	margin-bottom:10.0pt; 	line-height:115%;} @page Section1 	{size:8.5in 11.0in; 	margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-priority:99; 	mso-style-qformat:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin-top:0in; 	mso-para-margin-right:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; 	mso-para-margin-left:0in; 	line-height:115%; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:11.0pt; 	font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; 	mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Yes, I am moving out of my parent’s house. I will not live anymore in the home where I grew up for the past 25 years. Away from the comfort of my Room, and the kitchen, and the living room and the help that does almost everything. And, yes, I did get a place of my own. The place I got is not that far, it’s ridiculously close to my old house.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Now, I know a lot of you can’t help but wonder (Gossip), “Why the hell am I moving out? “. And the very obvious answer is, why not? Or what I think is more appropriate,” Why just now?”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;A lot of people (Almost 95%) who knows that I will move out reacted the way I expect them to react, like a normal Filipino. It was very amusing and extremely annoying at the same time. And the whole plethora of “very open minded” people, (note: sarcasm), did not let me down on their response when I told them, “Hey, I’m moving out of my house!” The conversation goes like this.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;ME: “Hey, I found a place and I’m moving out of the house?”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;PERSON: “What? Why? Where? ”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;ME: “Just someplace, it’s a really small place”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;PERSON: “Are you going to live with Lady?”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Now, what in the hell is that? Just because I want to get out of the house, it does not mean that I want to live with my girlfriend. She stays with her sister and she can’t leave her because her sister can’t pay the rent alone, and we are not married yet, and it does not look really good to live under the same roof with someone you are not married with period. And besides, I love and respect her and I will never do that to us. We will have to get married, but that’s another story. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;And there was the idea that I was having domestic problems with my parents and siblings. It’s a really good guess, but it was made in bad taste. F.Y.I. for the people who did think about that possibility, My mother was really happy I was finally doing it, My dad was very sad when he heard I was going out but turned out really supportive and he is my main man in the whole moving out process, my 2 sisters are very encouraging about my move and sad as well because they won’t be hearing my jokes every now and then. So this possibility is very stupid. Shame to those people who even considered it, I shun you!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;The very core, the very reason why I have decided to just “Move out”, apart from the exorbitant amount of rent that I will pay every month, and the endless fear of losing my job and not paying it. Away from the uncomfortable setup of having to deal with the laundry, cooking and cleaning. Clear from the foolish idea to spend money instead of just living at my parent’s house and saving it for some grand plan of buying my own house instead of what have you. The simple reason is me. I have simply waked up one day and realized that &lt;b style=""&gt;I needed to grow up&lt;/b&gt;. That I wanted to learn the real meaning of responsibility the hard way, the way it should be. I do not wish to learn that through my parents, they have already taught everything I needed to know. So I hope you respect my decision, because this move is something I put my whole being in, and I feel good about it. Because, unlike peter pan, I am happy I will finally be able to grow up.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-3039878739144987683?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/3039878739144987683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=3039878739144987683' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/3039878739144987683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/3039878739144987683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2008/09/moving-out.html' title='Moving Out'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-5022617345774492204</id><published>2008-03-16T22:47:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-16T23:02:35.097+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Return</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;    You know how people always start off with "It's been a while since I last posted something" introductions? Well, I'm not going to do that. Instead I'll do nothing but just rely on my "very well placed first sentence, coupled with people's common sense and innate &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;captain obvious&lt;/span&gt; skill to figure out that I just did that without me doing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  So, I've run out of things to say. I mean, what the hell is this blog for anyway? Is it to update strangers about my life? Does it act like an outlet for my "feelings", very much like how a diary does? I'm confused most of the time about a lot of things. The blog is just one of these problems that I face everyday. I have this weird feeling that I need to keep updating it, but I lack either motivation, or just things to say. Either that, or my lazy side is keeping up with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a side note though, I heard a funny thing a jeepney driver said a couple of days ago:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Jeepney driver: (Para sa mga nakasabit) Pasok kayo, meron pa dito sa kaliwa!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Sabit 1: Hinde, sige, diyan lang kami sa malapit!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;(Guy enters the jeep and takes the space that driver was talking about)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Jeepney driver: Sige pasok ka lang, para dalawa lang babayaran ko pag nahulog!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lol'd...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-5022617345774492204?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/5022617345774492204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=5022617345774492204' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/5022617345774492204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/5022617345774492204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2008/03/return.html' title='Return'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-1767475595824805667</id><published>2007-12-29T20:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-29T20:56:12.167+08:00</updated><title type='text'>DAMN THOSE UPLOADERS!</title><content type='html'>For all you Dattebayo fans, I'm sure you're wondering why the website is down? Well, Dattebayo is pissed at gay uploaders who keep putting up the company's stuff on other websites (Youtube, Veoh, etc.), which was, what the people from Dattebayo considered a strong "kick in in the nuts". Dattebayo released this message:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&lt;&lt;&gt;&gt;&lt;&lt;&gt;&gt;&lt;&lt;  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear leechers,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;We have warned everyone repeatedly on the issue of streaming our subs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;We sincerely appreciate everyone's efforts to spread the Naruto/Bleach love, but were growing increasingly frustrated, not to mention worried, over our repeatedly ignored requests not to upload our material to Veoh, Youtube and other streaming sites.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Perhaps you guys aren't aware, but the flagrant disregard for our requests puts us in an increasingly vulnerable position as a fansubbing group. We don't want to be shut down (which is something we are in constant threat of) and if our rules are not honored, we may well be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Therefore we once again make this request:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Please do NOT upload any of our released episodes to streaming sites.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Since it's hard to get people to comply just by writing in these news, we need to get your attention. So effective immediately, we are forced to stop releasing our subtitled episodes for ALL our current projects until the request is met, full stop. This includes Naruto, Bleach, Pitagora Switch and Pokemon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;We regret that we have to take such a drastic stance, but our requests have gone ignored for years. There's not much more we can do to protect ourselves and to continue bringing these episodes to fans, but we believe that taking these precautions now will keep us operational for the long run. And we hope to keep bringing these episodes to English-speaking fans for a long time. Please help us by abiding by our rules.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Here’s the issue: Dattebayo translates and subtitles anime, and released the episodes for public download on our website. Lots of well-meaning fans then take these Dattebayo episodes, re-encode / cut them into parts and upload them onto streaming sites like Youtube or Veoh. THIS IS BAD. The reason is not because Dattebayo is stupid or annoying or mean.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It's disrespectful to the subbers’ wishes, but more importantly,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fansubbing is not legal, and with the popularity of Naruto/Bleach growing, legitimate companies have licensed them for DVD releases outside of Japan. That makes fansubbers a target - although Dattbayo makes no money, legally the companies have all the right to shut us down. Because Dattebayo is a prominent fansubbing group, it's at constant risk and legal threat. When you put videos on Veoh/Youtube, that exposes the group and makes it a big target.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;To this end, Dattebayo has politely and repeatedly asked uploaders on many streaming sites to STOP UPLOADING our files. Many people assume that the uploaders have Dattebayo's permission, but that's not true. The uploaders have basically ignored all polite requests to stop. With recent changes to Youtube "copyright enforcement" policy, it's nearly impossible to get Dattebayo material removed once it's been uploaded, therefore leaving our work in horrible quality for everyone to view.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Which is why Dattebayo has decided that we will put a hold on all our subtitled episode releases until the uploaders comply. We've been way too nice so far by letting this issue slide, but this is the end. Here's our (repeated) request to everyone who butchers our work by uploading it to streaming sites. STOP. If you're an uploader, please DO NOT UPLOAD DATTEBAYO SUBS to any more streaming sites. If you're guilty of doing this in the past, and your streaming site account is still valid, GO AND DELETE ALL THE DATTEBAYO VIDEOS WHICH BELONG TO YOUR ACCOUNT. We NEVER gave ANYONE permission to upload our work to ANY STREAMING SITE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It might be annoying to have to figure out how to watch anime without Youtube or Veoh, but trust me, it's really not that hard. And some fans complain, "I don't know how to do it! It’s too hard! I need Veoh!" Well, if we fansubbers can figure out how to download Naruto, translate it, time it, edit it, encode it, release it - surely you can learn how to watch it. Or you can always (and should) buy the DVDs when they're released officially.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dattebayo is providing a SERVICE - a free, fast, reliable service. Fansubbers would like to keep providing the service, so we hope everyone can understand why this decision has been made. Dattebayo's wish is NOT to shut down anime-sharing - it’s to keep it alive for the long run. Please help by considering the bigger picture.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Without streaming sites, anime-watching may become less convenient, that is unfortunately true. But it's better than shutting down fansubbing entirely - because then you'll have no anime at all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dattebayo Fansubs, LLC. Taking internet seriously for the last 3.22 years&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&lt;&lt;&gt;&gt;&lt;&lt;&gt;&gt;&lt;&lt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I support Dattebayo entirely in their stance and I hope all idiot uploaders who disrespect Dattebayo's requests writhe in pain and drop dead for not getting their weekly dose of a well subbed anime for the coming days, and hopefully, for months.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-1767475595824805667?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/1767475595824805667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=1767475595824805667' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/1767475595824805667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/1767475595824805667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2007/12/damn-those-leechers.html' title='DAMN THOSE UPLOADERS!'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-5197585254973971693</id><published>2007-12-18T21:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-18T21:29:16.842+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Special Relativity</title><content type='html'>Take the time to read the little footnote first:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The theory of special relativity was proposed in 1905 by Albert Einstein in his article "On the Electrodynamics of Moving Bodies". It is based on two postulates: (1) that the mathematical forms of the laws of physics are invariant in all inertial systems; and (2) that the speed of light in a vacuum is constant and independent of the source or observer. Reconciling the two postulates requires a unification of space and time into the frame-dependent concept of spacetime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Special relativity has a variety of surprising consequences that seem to violate common sense, but all have been experimentally verified. It overthrows Newtonian notions of absolute space and time by stating that distance and time depend on the observer, and that time and space are perceived differently, depending on the observer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;from Wikipedia...click &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Physics"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; to read more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that said, I would like to share pictures I took December 07,2007.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R2fKtLiXBTI/AAAAAAAAACk/_u4wUHlaJ2E/s1600-h/07-12-07_0933.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R2fKtLiXBTI/AAAAAAAAACk/_u4wUHlaJ2E/s400/07-12-07_0933.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145303976833910066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R2fK2riXBUI/AAAAAAAAACs/52sGqbiemvI/s1600-h/07-12-07_0936.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R2fK2riXBUI/AAAAAAAAACs/52sGqbiemvI/s400/07-12-07_0936.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145304140042667330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R2fLB7iXBVI/AAAAAAAAAC0/VGQ6W62l3xs/s1600-h/07-12-07_0947.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R2fLB7iXBVI/AAAAAAAAAC0/VGQ6W62l3xs/s400/07-12-07_0947.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145304333316195666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes, it is possible...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-5197585254973971693?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/5197585254973971693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=5197585254973971693' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/5197585254973971693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/5197585254973971693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2007/12/special-relativity.html' title='Special Relativity'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R2fKtLiXBTI/AAAAAAAAACk/_u4wUHlaJ2E/s72-c/07-12-07_0933.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-5498049989099411341</id><published>2007-12-09T16:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T18:40:07.116+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Table</title><content type='html'>There are two things about me that some of you people don't know. I ALWAYS find something to do when I'm bored, and I like making stuff out of virtually anything I can get my hands on. In very very rare occasions I find myself in a dual state of mind and I come down to a creative fit and have to urge to make something, I start a plan and tell myself "Time to make something!", and so came the table project:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R1u7pAVvppI/AAAAAAAAABU/Hoa7WaHQBUE/s1600-h/05-12-07_1143+edit.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R1u7pAVvppI/AAAAAAAAABU/Hoa7WaHQBUE/s400/05-12-07_1143+edit.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141909712713787026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE PLAN:  To make a simple table for bebe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE TOOLS: 2 Hammers (1 with the round end, and 1 to take out bad nails), A really old saw, Some random makeshift woodclamps  out of old vicegrips, Tape measure, Squala (Metal Square), A pencil, Some sand paper, And a pair of work gloves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE RAW MATERIALS: Pieces of Wood, A whole bunch of 1" and 1.5" nails, Wood Glue(Stickwell), Laquer (Plastic Varnish), Laquer paint thinner, paintbrush, And a Kick ass state of mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to get into the dimensions because I don't really recall them exactly. I bought the wood from a shop just in front of Cathay Builders in marcos highway called "PALO CHINA". The table top is made of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lawanit&lt;/span&gt;, same wood that is used for walls "Dingding" and ceilings "Kisame", YES I'M THAT CHEAP STFU. The wood I used for the top rail is called &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Palo China&lt;/span&gt;, a soft wood commonly used for making crates. My father helped me with the whole plan because of his innate ability to envision furniture plans and vast experience in making them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I'm not sure I got the dimensions right, but these are rough estimates)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE WOOD:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Table top - 1/4"X60"X 35" Lawanit flatwood&lt;br /&gt;2 pieces 1x1 wood for top rail, around 25"&lt;br /&gt;1 long ass flat wood 2" X 1/4" around 70"&lt;br /&gt;1 very long piece of 2"X2" (DOS POR DOS) wood, around 55"&lt;br /&gt;TOTAL OF 200php&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FIRST PART:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously you have to measure everything first. So use a tape measure to get your dimensions. Using the table top as the basis for measurement and I could not be more of a captain obvious when I say that. Some simple math and common sense comes in handy for this part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SECOND PART:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Glue the top rail and the legs on to the tabletop by following this simple chart:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R1u7awVvpoI/AAAAAAAAABM/YwXO98SOgBo/s1600-h/tableglue.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R1u7awVvpoI/AAAAAAAAABM/YwXO98SOgBo/s400/tableglue.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141909467900651138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;    You can make your own measurements based on the tabletop. Do not forget to glue the wood surfaces that touch each other for more strength. Let it dry OVERNIGHT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wood glue is pretty strong stuff, I misjudged it by comparing it with normal all purpose glue like Elmers™ (They have a line for wood glue too), but this stuff is great! on wood of course. I used an old shoe and a pair of clogs to position the legs so that they are glued on correctly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R1u-QwVvpsI/AAAAAAAAABs/owJnPS3pMzw/s1600-h/05-12-07_1420.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R1u-QwVvpsI/AAAAAAAAABs/owJnPS3pMzw/s400/05-12-07_1420.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141912594636842690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OLD DOC MARTENS SAVES THE DAY!!!&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R1vE7AVvpyI/AAAAAAAAACc/0g3e01YpHEA/s1600-h/05-12-07_1418.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R1vE7AVvpyI/AAAAAAAAACc/0g3e01YpHEA/s400/05-12-07_1418.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141919917556082466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R1u-cAVvptI/AAAAAAAAAB0/dBqk6-c8JQI/s1600-h/05-12-07_1419.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R1u-cAVvptI/AAAAAAAAAB0/dBqk6-c8JQI/s400/05-12-07_1419.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141912787910371026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can of stikwell = camwhore&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THIRD PART:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have to nail the parts using the diagram here. For the top rail, nail going from the tabletop down. You can use a piece of wood to put under the top rail you nailing down for support.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R1vBdQVvpuI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hcgqmnwy-so/s1600-h/Nailshut.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R1vBdQVvpuI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hcgqmnwy-so/s400/Nailshut.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141916107920090850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R1vD-QVvpvI/AAAAAAAAACE/Mdn_5ULlYqo/s1600-h/06-12-07_0924.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R1vD-QVvpvI/AAAAAAAAACE/Mdn_5ULlYqo/s400/06-12-07_0924.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141918873879029490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FOURTH PART:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sand down the legs and the table top. You do not have to sand down the top rails but it's up to you if you're feeling a little enthused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OPTIONAL - What we did was we put side top rails to make it the table look like nice. We used the thin piece of pre shaped wood for the corners of the tabletop to make it look thick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FINAL PART:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Put one coat of Plastic Varnish or Laquer of the color you like (We used maple). And coat all the visible sides. This stuff dries really fast around 10 minutes, one of the reasons why my dad advised me to buy this type of finish is because of that reason and I'm a cheap ass bastard (Oil varnish costs 1,500php per 4 gallons, they only come in 4 gallons).  Double coat or triple coat the table top and you are finished. A brand new table made by your own hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R1vENgVvpwI/AAAAAAAAACM/v2Vu0OS5_eU/s1600-h/06-12-07_1534.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R1vENgVvpwI/AAAAAAAAACM/v2Vu0OS5_eU/s400/06-12-07_1534.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141919135872034562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whole project costs came down to a whopping cheapskate total of 600php, not bad. And I get to make bebe smile and be proud of me, which is, and I'm going to cheese these up real good, priceless!!! (OMG EVERYONE SAW THAT COMING)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R1vErAVvpxI/AAAAAAAAACU/277BsdDoElE/s1600-h/06-12-07_1815.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R1vErAVvpxI/AAAAAAAAACU/277BsdDoElE/s400/06-12-07_1815.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141919642678175506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-5498049989099411341?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/5498049989099411341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=5498049989099411341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/5498049989099411341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/5498049989099411341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2007/12/table.html' title='The Table'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/R1u7pAVvppI/AAAAAAAAABU/Hoa7WaHQBUE/s72-c/05-12-07_1143+edit.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-83589260552882820</id><published>2007-11-21T22:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T22:52:53.384+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Weird Conversation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;I was going home today after watching the movie "Enchanted" with Lhen and I had the weirdest conversation with the driver of the tricycle I was riding on. It totally blew my mind. So it went something like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;someone calls to me while I am attempting to enter the tricycle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;(It was some guy I know, we'll just call him GUY)&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;GUY: Aris! Pasabay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;I signal to him to hitch at the back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(It turns out, "GUY" knows the driver really well)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DRIVER: Sis, sasabay ka pa sakin, ma fa-flat ako niyan!&lt;br /&gt;GUY: Di yan sis! Eto naman minsan lang eh.&lt;br /&gt;DRIVER: Yun nga eh, minsan na nga lang ikaw pa sasabay...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(It seems the word "sis" is slang for "bro" or something)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;barely overhearing their conversation over the rain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DRIVER: Di mo naman binabayaran mga babae ko eh..&lt;br /&gt;GUY: (SOME REPLY)&lt;br /&gt;DRIVER: Sinabi ko naman sayo, sa loob married ako, pero sa labas single ako.&lt;br /&gt;GUY: Yun naman!&lt;br /&gt;DRIVER: Single with children, bakit si Misis naman nag chachat ngayon, sinasabi niya rin sa chat "Hi, I'm single with children!"&lt;br /&gt;GUY: HAHAHAHAHA!&lt;br /&gt;DRIVER: Mapuputulan na nga yung smart bro niya eh, bahala siya, di ko yun babayaran! Tatlong buwan na. Pero baket kaya di pa nila pinuputol?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;i made an attempt to enter the interesting conversation, which, I don't normally do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;ME: Mapuputol na yan, tatlong buwan lang talaga.&lt;br /&gt;DRIVER: Talaga tol? Tatlong buwan lang.&lt;br /&gt;ME: OO, papadalan ka pa ng notice galing sa attorney nila!&lt;br /&gt;DRIVER: Eh di maayos, hayaan mo na makulong misis ko para matuluyang single with children na ako, HAHAHAHAH!&lt;br /&gt;GUY: HAHAHAHAHAHAH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;guy gets dropped off on his stop and I waved goodbye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;DRIVER: Di nga? Tatlong buwan lang yun? 1,200 nga binabayaran buwan buwan eh.&lt;br /&gt;ME: Bat ang mahal? 999 lang yun ah!&lt;br /&gt;DRIVER: Di ko nga alam eh! Yaan mo misis ko magbayad nun, naghahanap nga ng Amerikano yun ngayon eh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I started thinking and piecing the puzzle together, but I won't jump to any conclusions just yet, but I'm sensing his wife's occupation involves what I think it involves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;ME: Ahh. Eh di ayos.&lt;br /&gt;DRIVER: Tangina, 3 months hehehehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Driver stops tricycle in front of my house while I'm looking for money to pay him&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;DRIVER: Pano ba yun sa chat? Magkikita kayo nung KANO tapos sex na diba?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting so confused right now but still staying with it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;ME: Ah, wala ka ba webcam?&lt;br /&gt;DRIVER: Webcam?&lt;br /&gt;ME: Camera? Pwede mo sila singilin, maghuhubad ka lang!&lt;br /&gt;DRIVER: Ah, ayaw maghubad ng misis ko eh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;For some reason the next set of words that came out of my mouth seemed automatic like I was trying to spit out some sensible shit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;ME: Ah kung gusto niya sex, ayos, galante naman yung Amerikano eh, wag lang pinoy, makunat pinoy eh.&lt;br /&gt;DRIVER: Ah ganun? Oh sige, salamat tol ah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;As I was walking down the front door, I realized how fucked up that conversation was I just blurted out "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?" Can you believe that conversation just happened between two complete strangers? I still can't... good days hehe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-83589260552882820?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/83589260552882820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=83589260552882820' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/83589260552882820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/83589260552882820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2007/11/weird-conversation.html' title='Weird Conversation'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-6074351370801497637</id><published>2007-09-08T00:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-08T02:38:26.708+08:00</updated><title type='text'>WAG NYO GAMITIN ANG CHINA BANK ATM SA EASTWOOD CYBERMALL</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/RuGaAfDLrII/AAAAAAAAAA8/lVoQo51UbP8/s1600-h/ATM.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107532785540377730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/RuGaAfDLrII/AAAAAAAAAA8/lVoQo51UbP8/s320/ATM.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nung biyernes ng Umaga, mga alas siete yun. Kakalabas lang ng sweldo. Syempre, masaya ako, pota sweldo eh. Eh gusto ko na mag withdraw, ang pinakamalapit na withdrawhan yung sa Cybermall na Chinabank ATM stall, kasi nga Citibank yung card ko. Ok, kasma ko si bebe, pasok sa Cybermall, taas ng escalator, u-turn ng pakanan, &lt;em&gt;CHINABANK ATM AYOS POTA WALANG PILA!&lt;/em&gt; Ok lagay ang card, enter pin, withdraw 6,000, bibilin ko lahat ng nakasalang na hamburger sa makdo pota gutom na ako... antay ng 10 seconds... "This machine can only dispose 100 bills &lt;ok&gt;". So syempre ang reaction ko, &lt;em&gt;"Pota ka wala ako pake!"&lt;/em&gt; Sabay pindot sa ok. Walang lumabas na pera, baka wala na laman, di kinaya yung limpak na limpak kong perang 6,000 pesos. Sinubukan ko mag withdraw ng 1,000 lang. Ayos, pumasok, tig isang daan, takbo na ng makdo para kumain. Pagkakain, dumeretso ako sa Citibank mismo, baka may 500 bills sila dun, unlike the jologs chinabank atm sa cybermall. Withdraw 6,000!!!, "Insufficient Funds", tiningnan ko baka 60,000 nilagay ko, 6,000 naman. "ABA!" napa aba ako. Ok, balance inquiry, OPS nawala na yung 6,000, "KUMIKINANGINA, NASAN NA?". Pero syempre alam ko na nadebit yun ng super jologs na Chinabank ATM sa Eastwood Cybermall kaya nag acting lang talaga ako para mayamot yung mga nag sesetup sa banko ng Citibank. Tumawag ako sa Citibank customer service, ayos, pangalan nung agent Monet, ganda ng voice, nakakagising... report report, confirm confirm, na debit nga daw, iimbestigahan pa, mukhang may namatay ata habang nadebit yung account ko. Medyo pumangit yung tingin ko kay Monet, kasi sabi niya 1-15 days daw yung turn around time. Nag sorry sakin si Monet, pero parang yung tono ako may kasalanan kasi sarcastic yung pagkasabi niya. Parang, "Sorry ah, tatanga tanga ka kasi eh, dun ka nag withdraw!", malditang babae to ah. Ok yamot, pero ganun talaga. Pumunta ako Chinabank, dun lang sa harap ng Cybermall. "Na debit account ko, sa inyo ba yung ATM sa cybermall". Sagot nung lalake sa front desk, "UU samin, write down the details here in this piec...." tapos bigla siya pinigilan ni ATE na katabi niya, "WAITS, ETO NALANG PARA MABILIS", inabot sakin yung phone, customer service daw ng Chinabank. "Hello" sabi ng mahinhin na boses sa telepono. Napaisip ako bigla, "Parang hindi customer service, parang gusto lang makipag phonepal". "HELLO, NA DEBIT AKO!" sabi ko sa babae. "Ok sir" sagot niya na parang iiyak. Hindi naman ako galit, di ko naman siya inaaway, friend kaya ako, tae. Ok para matapos na yung kwento, sabi niya, biyernes daw so Monday pa malalaman kung sino ang may kasalanan bat nadebit account ko. (SINO PA MAY KASALANAN? EH MACHINE NYO YUN! WOW GALING!). Binigyan niya ako ng "Reference Number". Pagbaba ko ng phone, sinabi sakin nung ATE sa frontdesk, "Wag nyo na gamitin yung sa Cybermall, sira yun eh, araw araw may nagrereport ng debit galing dun". Napaisip ako "&lt;em&gt;Ah ayos, eh diba sa inyo yun, bat di nyo pa tanggalin dun? Galing ah!&lt;/em&gt;". Ok, lesson, wag na kayo mag transact dun sa Chinabank ATM sa Cybermall... 15 days ako magaantay na mabalik sakin pera ko, at nagdadasal na babalik nga. Na debit narin naman ako dati, sa ibank na account ko, at tama nga lagpas 2 weeks bago ma resolve. Galing talaga ng sistema dito sa pilipinas, ok sa olrayt. Pag nakuha ko yung pera ko, babalikan ko yung machine na yun, ngangartan ko sa mukha. Woo!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-6074351370801497637?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/6074351370801497637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=6074351370801497637' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/6074351370801497637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/6074351370801497637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2007/09/wag-nyo-gamitin-ang-china-bank-atm-in.html' title='WAG NYO GAMITIN ANG CHINA BANK ATM SA EASTWOOD CYBERMALL'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/RuGaAfDLrII/AAAAAAAAAA8/lVoQo51UbP8/s72-c/ATM.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-2016364809164442054</id><published>2007-08-05T21:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-05T22:55:28.753+08:00</updated><title type='text'>How To Get A Birth Certificate ( LAZY STYLE)</title><content type='html'>Ever get tired of having that really old, beaten up and smelly birth certificate that you had since you were in grade school. That same copy that you used in hundreds and hundreds of copy machines, most of the time, the Xerox type. And you badly need a fresh new one that smells like home grown pine from Baguio. If you are like me, your answer could be yes. Don't cry, not just yet, I have a solution for your lazy ass because I'm cool, like that, like that, like that. (Read like the song, GAY).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there is a service called "NSO Helpline Plus", and it's a 24 hour service to get your birth certificate delivered at the comfort of where the hell you are right now. Turn around time is 2-3 days, and it's pretty cheap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;STEP 1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call this number &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;737-1111&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, expect a lot of "key spelling" for your name, if you don't know how to key spell, that's ok, you can remain stupid for the rest of your life or you have the option to use GOOGLE. Before you call, you should have the following items handy:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Your Full Name (Don't mess this up, because if you do, you have to go to NSO "physically" to fix it)&lt;br /&gt;2. Your Dads full name&lt;br /&gt;3. Your Mom's full name&lt;br /&gt;4. Pen and a piece of paper. Ok, i know you are lazy, because you are going to do this, but don't use your palm as a medium for writing stuff on, you are not a caveman, you are just lazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The process will be A LOT faster if someone, who you live with, already used this service to have their birth certificate delivered. Now they will give you some info, just write it down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;STEP 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the person on the phone will give you instructions. You will have to go to a Metrobank branch, any will do. Grab a green Payment Slip like this one:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/RrXeKPW9VbI/AAAAAAAAAAs/oeuXeH0BTok/s1600-h/Payment+slip.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 382px; height: 496px;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/RrXeKPW9VbI/AAAAAAAAAAs/oeuXeH0BTok/s320/Payment+slip.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095222820942468530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fill it out, and pay the cashier 300 PESOS! ! ! YES IT IS THAT CHEAP!!! HAPPY DAYS FOR LAZY PEOPLE!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;STEP 3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 2-3 days, you have your birth certificate delivered to you like McDonalds, sweet! You can follow up your request by calling 737-1112, you must have your reference number with you. And just in case you will not be at home to receive the package, leave 1 valid ID and someone should be at home to receive it, along with their OWN valid ID and a letter of authorization just like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&lt;&lt;&lt; &lt;p class="MsoTitle" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;LETTER OF AUTHORIZATION&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;                    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Type the following letter on your company letterhead:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;DATE&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;To whom it may concern:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;I the undersigned, hereby authorize &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;PERSON WHO STAYS AT HOME ALL THE TIME&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;to act on my behalf in all manners relating to the delivery of my Birth Certificate, including signing of all documents relating to these matters.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Any and all acts carried out by&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;&lt;lonely&gt;&lt;/lonely&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;PERSON WHO STAYS AT HOME ALL THE TIME&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;on my behalf shall have the same affect as acts of my own.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Sincerely,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;(Signature)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;(Name and Title)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&lt;&lt;&lt;&lt;&lt;&lt;&lt;&lt;&lt;&lt;&lt;&lt;&lt;&lt;&lt;&lt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                      YEAHHHHH!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/RrXiTfW9VcI/AAAAAAAAAA0/50Gf4ejp5wY/s1600-h/CCF08032007_00001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 274px; height: 356px;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/RrXiTfW9VcI/AAAAAAAAAA0/50Gf4ejp5wY/s320/CCF08032007_00001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095227377902769602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-2016364809164442054?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/2016364809164442054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=2016364809164442054' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/2016364809164442054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/2016364809164442054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2007/08/how-to-get-birth-certificate-lazy-style.html' title='How To Get A Birth Certificate ( LAZY STYLE)'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/RrXeKPW9VbI/AAAAAAAAAAs/oeuXeH0BTok/s72-c/Payment+slip.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-6846648904250513179</id><published>2007-07-15T21:33:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-15T21:47:43.102+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I QUIT SMOKING...FOREVER!</title><content type='html'>I have made my resolve, this post will seal my decision and by crum, I must endure. I need all my friends and family's help. All of you, I need your full support, this has been very hard for me. 10 years of smoking has taken its toll and I want to forget this dumb vice FOREVER. I want to be SMOKE FREE FOR LIFE!!! As of 10:00PM this 15th of July,2007 I have started quitting. &lt;a href="http://www.neversmokeagain.com/"&gt;This website&lt;/a&gt; has been crucial to my decision.  But more importantly I have my girlfriend to thank for her constant reminder and love that made it possible for me to arrive at this point, thank you Lhen. Now it has begun... I'm so happy I'm finally doing this...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-6846648904250513179?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/6846648904250513179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=6846648904250513179' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/6846648904250513179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/6846648904250513179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-quit-smokingforever.html' title='I QUIT SMOKING...FOREVER!'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-7873388771966226509</id><published>2007-07-09T23:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-09T23:05:51.873+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wedding Video</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nqCAuxnuLUI"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;CLICK HERE TO VIEW VIDEO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I made the video for my sister's wedding. It was a little disappointing that the wedding planner forgot to set up a projector for me to show the video. But it was good because my sister and her husband liked it. Any comments would be greatly appreciated. Thanks.&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/8321746-7873388771966226509?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/7873388771966226509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=7873388771966226509' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/7873388771966226509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/7873388771966226509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2007/07/wedding-video.html' title='Wedding Video'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-1319759630777758421</id><published>2007-06-08T18:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-08T19:45:46.863+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What Women Put Up With</title><content type='html'>So I was walking around the mall the other day trying to find a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;micro fiber cloth&lt;/span&gt; for my girlfriend when I found myself &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;staring &lt;/span&gt;at a pile of sanitary napkins on the grocery. I must've been confused that day to accidentally stand at that place. I can remember that moment. I was sporting an open mouthed, long faced, eyes focused on products look. But &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;instead &lt;/span&gt;of being embarrassed, I was hit by the idea that most men fail to recognize, women put up with so much &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;shit&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Yes, they put up with so much &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;crap &lt;/span&gt;in their daily, monthly and yearly lives that it is by far incomparable with what men need to survive. Let me state my reasons to give light to my little stroke of genius:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;    WHAT WOMEN PUT UP WITH... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  They have to put up with that dreaded "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Menstrual Cycle&lt;/span&gt;" or their "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Period&lt;/span&gt;" that so many dumb men often mistake for &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PMS&lt;/span&gt;. It so happens I took up pre-med (not really) and I have the answer right here; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PMS &lt;/span&gt;means. "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Premenstrual syndrome refers to the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;collection of symptoms                      or sensations&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; women experience as a result of high hormone                      levels before, and sometimes during, their periods&lt;/span&gt;". So for the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;retards&lt;/span&gt; that don't know diddly squat about PMS, stop attacking women's disposition, and possibly their intelligence, by referring PMS as their "period" or "Mens". I mean come on! Mens?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/Rmk_qB7qT0I/AAAAAAAAAAc/ohP7UvOcjGc/s1600-h/1008420830_1_big.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 270px;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/Rmk_qB7qT0I/AAAAAAAAAAc/ohP7UvOcjGc/s320/1008420830_1_big.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5073656446515302210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Ok, where was I, Oh yes, women have to put up with that. I don' t want to go over the details how it works but the only thing people should know is that it last for 4-8 days, and it is definitely a fuckin bitch to experience. What I know is that it hurts like hell. It goes on the whole goddamn day, even at night. Women feel uncomfortable, extremely irritated, and sometimes a lot of pain and muscle cramping. So women had to go through all that while doing daily things like work, school or household chores. And also not to mention the insane amount of sanitary napkins they had to buy depending on how strong their menstrual flow is, sometimes, even to the point of buying diapers, and that don't come cheap if you compute how much that would cost in a year, including the hassle of having to "lug" it around with you wherever you go. I get lazy bringing around my office ID, imagine a bunch of bulky specialized tissue/paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/Rmk_7R7qT1I/AAAAAAAAAAk/SvSygAt2fIk/s1600-h/napkin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/Rmk_7R7qT1I/AAAAAAAAAAk/SvSygAt2fIk/s320/napkin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5073656742868045650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Some of you might be asking, "Why the fuck do you care, that's human nature?!". My only reason for bringing this up is for some people to be educated on the matter. Most people, by people I mean &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;MEN&lt;/span&gt;, fail to realize that, it sucks to put up with that crap and all women need is understanding and some absorbing. What do I mean by absorbing? Men should act like a sponge and absorb the barrage of mood swings and moments of depression women experience before, after and during their period. May it be your girlfriend, your sister or even your mom, show some class and shut the fuck up and keep your stupid rebuttals/jokes/complaints to yourself when they tell you it's "That time of the month".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;  &lt;/span&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/8321746-1319759630777758421?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/1319759630777758421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=1319759630777758421' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/1319759630777758421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/1319759630777758421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2007/06/what-women-put-up-with.html' title='What Women Put Up With'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/Rmk_qB7qT0I/AAAAAAAAAAc/ohP7UvOcjGc/s72-c/1008420830_1_big.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-1619261741486028624</id><published>2007-05-14T22:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-14T22:42:18.244+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Birds Flying South</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do&lt;/span&gt; birds fly south for the winter? &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt; guessed it, they never &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ever have&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; is why they you never see them flock in the sky. The &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;feeling &lt;/span&gt;of flying south, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;that &lt;/span&gt;is intense all the way. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;It could&lt;/span&gt; easily throw you off your feet. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;have &lt;/span&gt;I had these ideas before? So many years have &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;been different&lt;/span&gt; and I would never miss out on a single one. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;have &lt;/span&gt;you? &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I met&lt;/span&gt; the birds that do fly south. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;this &lt;/span&gt;was one of the real life changing experiences a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;person &lt;/span&gt;could ever have. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;a couple of years back&lt;/span&gt;, this would mean nothing. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;when &lt;/span&gt;I wrote this entry, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I was&lt;/span&gt; shocked. And I was &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not in the situation &lt;/span&gt;where I could not care less. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I am&lt;/span&gt; in a state of confusion. Do you get it &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;right now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-1619261741486028624?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/1619261741486028624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=1619261741486028624' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/1619261741486028624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/1619261741486028624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2007/05/birds-flying-south.html' title='Birds Flying South'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-2659003121081928145</id><published>2007-05-12T19:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-12T19:26:17.363+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Honto?</title><content type='html'>I'm not tired of playing your little mind games. I admire them to tell you the truth. You can lose faith over me, that is a matter of choice, but, only relative to the current events and also, our little altercation over the "you know where", I will still push you to reconsider. You still don't know me, and likewise I'm having a little bit of trouble figuring out how you think, and who you really are, but all is good. You see, in one of the tiny little boxes up in that place on top of my head called my brain, where all the dreams and "what could've beens" are neatly arranged. I still have that image, of us, and I will not tell you what it is, and what it looks like, but It is nice, but sadly, given the circumstance, especially yours, I have come to the conclusion, although blatantly obvious, that it is not possible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-2659003121081928145?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/2659003121081928145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=2659003121081928145' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/2659003121081928145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/2659003121081928145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2007/05/honto.html' title='Honto?'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-572446903802089877</id><published>2007-04-22T13:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-22T13:40:59.314+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tribute to My Trainers</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qInoS_5VH7o"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qInoS_5VH7o" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     It took me 7 hours to finish the video, with a 30 min break to eat dinner. It's the very first video I ever made and I'm pretty proud of it. You should see the reaction of the people I dedicated the video to. They were really happy and teary-eyed. I could've spent more time editing and adding this or that but at the end of the day, it was all worth it. Just to see the people appreciate the video is worth the time and sleepless night I put into it. I'm happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-572446903802089877?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/572446903802089877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=572446903802089877' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/572446903802089877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/572446903802089877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2007/04/tribute-to-my-trainers.html' title='Tribute to My Trainers'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-5782350814762380472</id><published>2007-04-07T15:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-07T16:01:22.639+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of boredom</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/RhdPJuzVRWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/hjzisBC4D1E/s1600-h/300-1.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/RhdPJuzVRWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/hjzisBC4D1E/s320/300-1.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5050592535720052066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&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;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/RhdPfuzVRXI/AAAAAAAAAAU/ScjrWtfKvSM/s1600-h/300-2.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/RhdPfuzVRXI/AAAAAAAAAAU/ScjrWtfKvSM/s320/300-2.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5050592913677174130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I was bored at work...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-5782350814762380472?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/5782350814762380472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=5782350814762380472' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/5782350814762380472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/5782350814762380472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2007/04/out-of-boredom.html' title='Out of boredom'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_jqcMNSa_kV0/RhdPJuzVRWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/hjzisBC4D1E/s72-c/300-1.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-4285417174654251697</id><published>2007-04-03T19:04:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-04T20:46:10.510+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Speed and Accuracy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;     I finally realized my &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"life skill&lt;/span&gt;". It was a close fight between "Brave Brute Force" and "Speed and Accuracy", which was aptly converted to S.T.O.P.(Discussed Later). I suddenly burst into the realm of the collective and decided to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;adopt&lt;/span&gt; my life skill and live by it, slowly phasing in the idea to myself.  So, it can be quite confusing trying to figure out what the hell I'm talking about. For those of you who can't put up with it, blow me, figure it out or lose sleep over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   For a lack of a better&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;association&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt; for an abbreviation, I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;rearranged the words to make it fit writing off the original one and choosing,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;“&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;" lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;Speed That Of a Puma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;instead of using&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt; more appropriate and well known&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;“&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;" lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;Speed of the Puma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt; from the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;defunct&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt; cartoon series&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt; &lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bravestarr"&gt;Bravestarr&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="en-us"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;.(I am assuming you know who Bravestarr is, and for some stupid reason you don't, you have lost both my respect and chances of ever getting it back). Man, I miss Bravestarr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   And like I said, I'm going to live by S.T.O.P. right now. Because, A) It's effective and, B) It's what I'm good at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-4285417174654251697?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/4285417174654251697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=4285417174654251697' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/4285417174654251697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/4285417174654251697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2007/04/speed-and-accuracy.html' title='Speed and Accuracy'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-5019966570369578501</id><published>2007-03-28T17:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-28T20:02:40.923+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tribute to Jughead</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y289/e05962/Jughead.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 217px; height: 316px;" src="http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y289/e05962/Jughead.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Way back, when there were no consoles or PC games, or the Internet. I didn't spend my time reading books, I read &lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.archiecomics.com/"&gt;Archie Comics&lt;/a&gt;. I asked around people if they even know what &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Arch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ie Comics&lt;/span&gt; were. The results? Very disappointing. Peons...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, If you are as cool as me and read Archie religiously, you should know who Jughead is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just to refresh your memory, He's the thin guy wearing a crown-like hat and likes to eat insane amounts of food. For some of you posers who wants to act like they know Jughead, I've included "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:courier new;" &gt;Visual help" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;to gratify yourself for just knowing who he is&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;" &gt;Q:So why make a tribute to Jughead?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;" &gt;A:Because you are stupid not to make one!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.silverbulletcomicbooks.com/features/images/archie/jughead.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.silverbulletcomicbooks.com/features/images/archie/jughead.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Let me show you the reasons:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;li&gt; He has that real sleek "I don't give a F&amp;#K!" attitude.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Passively "shun" girls even if they throw themselves to him, with much vigilance, I might add.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Favorite past time is eating food and then passing out.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Owns a "magical pin" that can make any woman drool over and throw their panties at him. (Yes I want one, don't we all?)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Owns a dog named "hotdog" who is equally "cool" as him.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Has an above average IQ, above average sense of smell and owns the elusive "Shirt with a letter S on it" that can make you explode to little sorry pieces trying to figure out what it means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Because he is not Archie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;I have a lot of reasons why Jughead dominates but I would like YOU to find out for yourself. Stop being lazy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/6/6c/Jughd.jpg/180px-Jughd.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/6/6c/Jughd.jpg/180px-Jughd.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.comictreadmill.com/images/2005twelvedays/11Drumsjug-thumb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.comictreadmill.com/images/2005twelvedays/11Drumsjug-thumb.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-5019966570369578501?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/5019966570369578501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=5019966570369578501' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/5019966570369578501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/5019966570369578501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2007/03/tribute-to-jughead.html' title='Tribute to Jughead'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-2961908208025724710</id><published>2007-03-05T21:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-05T21:29:14.474+08:00</updated><title type='text'>On Third Eye</title><content type='html'>As much as I want to fully open this gift, I believe that I cannot handle the consequences also the responsibility. My "sense" is getting weaker and weaker every day because I ignore things that happen to me, especially at night when I am in a place I've never been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me share a couple of things that I've experienced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most significant one was when I was hanging out in a friends house. I was getting something in their kitchen, and facing the kitchen was their living room, beside the room was a veranda that was made a stock room for old furniture and such. Suddenly I felt this intense heat in the back of my neck, and a really strong force that was rendering me unconscious. I fought hard of course, thinking that that I was tired or something. But then I felt this "Intense hate", that someone did not want me there, that someone just wanted me to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got back to the group, I asked my friend privately if they had spirits in the house. She looked at me in a shocked look and asked me how I knew. Consequently, they talked to a "manghuhula" about the house. They were told that the house was owned by 2 elemental kingdoms and a family of ghosts. So much inhabitants, I thought to myself, it made sense. The elemental kingdoms were black dwarves, 1 agressive, 1 passive and the ghost family, misguided.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take note that the terms I used are based on what I was told and not that I fabricated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were told that the agressive kingdom hated people in the house, sometimes messing aroung with the doors and killing off lights, my friend told me that it might be the dwarves that showed anger towards me, I figured, because they sensed that they can do that to me, third eye and all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course there was the family of ghosts, the child one being the most mischievous, he would watch my friend, who was a girl, sleep. Many a night she caught the silhouette of a little boy sitting in the sofa or beside the bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a lot more that I've experienced, but this incident was the one that just rocked me off my feet and made me so aware, it scared me to bits.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-2961908208025724710?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/2961908208025724710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=2961908208025724710' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/2961908208025724710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/2961908208025724710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2007/03/on-third-eye.html' title='On Third Eye'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-2101227488530073252</id><published>2007-01-27T05:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-27T05:49:18.088+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Discreet Post</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;     I left the place, with a long breath, my face was steady, long and steady. My friend guilt hit it off with idiocy and got together, screaming in my battered conscience. You know how you think, and believe that you got everything figured out? The confidence is so thick, it drips out of your ego? That, plus you have planned the next action you would enjoy taking. Then all of a sudden, BAM, it hit you. Like a bat out of hell, it hit me, I was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     And it forced me, to give up. I quit so fast and so easy. I think I need to stop doing that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-2101227488530073252?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/2101227488530073252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=2101227488530073252' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/2101227488530073252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/2101227488530073252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2007/01/discreet-post.html' title='Discreet Post'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-116223399580722447</id><published>2006-10-31T02:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-31T02:46:35.830+08:00</updated><title type='text'>When bravery falters</title><content type='html'>Seize the moment, my conscience told me. Stop the bullshit and get down to business. So, I did. I did not expect anything, I told myself that. I told the woman what I wanted to tell her and I got my response. Emotions came streaming by like it was nothing. But I have to admit, it had to be something. I admired her so much. I wanted to know more. I wanted to feel. But it had to end. And it did. The resolution, turned out to be an ultimatum. Deprivation of communication (yes, it sounds like an indie rock album). So I'm left with this resolve and I have to accept it. So that's what I'm doing right now. The task involved is proving to myself that I have to keep it sincere. My every thought is concentrated by finding a way to keep it real. Encouraged By this newfound glory. And as I write this entry, having recourse to writing which is blatantly obvious, My feelings towards the lady is justified. By documenting what has transpired, It will be imprinted in my mind that I should hold dear to my promise. To keep it near here (points to brain) and here (points to heart).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Summary:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Told girl what I feel.&lt;br /&gt;Girl told me she would ignore me starting that day.&lt;br /&gt;Told girl I don't care, I just wanted to say what I feel.&lt;br /&gt;Promised her that It would stay the same no matter what.&lt;br /&gt;Promised to self to hold that feeling regardless of the impression the lady gave.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-116223399580722447?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/116223399580722447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=116223399580722447' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/116223399580722447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/116223399580722447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2006/10/when-bravery-falters.html' title='When bravery falters'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-115410655935457188</id><published>2006-07-29T01:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-29T01:10:23.983+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Troublesome</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;July 28,2006, 12:35 A.M.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;Siemens Office, Libis QC&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;I was trying to channel an idea in my head and  tried to catch it with my hands as I type. 24 mins 'till I start working. I have  no sleep yesterday, well, I have no sleep today. It's really troublesome to have  me work in this condition, but I have no choice but to do so. I remembered, I  have plans for tommorow, or was it today, I lost grasp of time. I have to inform  my superior that I am unable to work today for reasons I have written earlier.  10 mins before my time comes in, I have to do something. How could I deprive  myself of sleep, I lack the power to move, to think, to work. I got up and  talked to Shift Supervisor Arvie, he worked something out for me. I guess I'll  work half this day. Crazy suicidal request for someone on the brink of getting  fired. But we have to stand up for what we think is right, right?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&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/8321746-115410655935457188?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/115410655935457188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=115410655935457188' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/115410655935457188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/115410655935457188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2006/07/troublesome.html' title='Troublesome'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-113726577224599301</id><published>2006-01-15T02:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-15T03:09:32.270+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A constant reminder for the idle and useless.&lt;br /&gt;Remember that people expect you to do something worthwhile.&lt;br /&gt;I never did in my 24 years and I will try and muster enough strength to do so.&lt;br /&gt;I'll post a better, more complete version of this post, but not right now, I have to sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-113726577224599301?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/113726577224599301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=113726577224599301' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/113726577224599301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/113726577224599301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2006/01/constant-reminder-for-idle-and-useless.html' title=''/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-113470726071379712</id><published>2005-12-16T12:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-16T12:27:40.766+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hardcore Gaming</title><content type='html'>It has taken most of my time now, and I'm pretty sure it wil take most of my time in the future. I just can't help it, I need to do this. It feels almost like I'm "born" to do it. I can imagine having kids and still playing video games. Unless you're a hardcore gamer, you will never understand. It takes dedication, skill, insight and common drive to actually be one. If you can open your mind and think, even for a brief time, to respect what I'm doing now, then you will understand why I have to do it. Some people thrive on certain things, certain careers, certain aspects of living. I, on the other hand live for this, this is me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-113470726071379712?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/113470726071379712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=113470726071379712' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/113470726071379712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/113470726071379712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2005/12/hardcore-gaming.html' title='Hardcore Gaming'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-112811747667938793</id><published>2005-10-01T05:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-01T05:57:56.723+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;span &gt;Turn back your head, you’ve heard the story&lt;br /&gt;There’s no use trying to feel real sorry&lt;br /&gt;We all weren't there to stop the wrong&lt;br /&gt;I've heard it so I'll sing my song&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And she was 12, the peak of innocence&lt;br /&gt;A sign of grace, chaste from influence&lt;br /&gt;And her beauty came out in youthful glow&lt;br /&gt;Her body swayed with childlike flow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked mature for her age&lt;br /&gt;And spoke with confidence and grown up rage&lt;br /&gt;Wore tight clothes, short top, short skirt&lt;br /&gt;The boys thought she just liked to flirt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her unwariness caused the ruined impression&lt;br /&gt;Thoughts came towards the wrong direction&lt;br /&gt;Humans, as I thought, were an admirable being&lt;br /&gt;Terrible designs came forth from seeing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boys of the same age took advantage of her&lt;br /&gt;I will not go in details what she openly offer&lt;br /&gt;They deceived her to doing this performance&lt;br /&gt;In exchange for cash, things, and acceptance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I wonder, who is to blame?&lt;br /&gt;Incidents like this, I set aside in shame&lt;br /&gt;What is this world coming to?&lt;br /&gt;The girl, the boys, who? Tell me! Who?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a based on a story a friend told me, the 12 year old girl exchanged sexual intercourse for stupid stuff like concert tickets and money with boys the same age or older. The girls’ family background supported the credibility of the story. I have seen this girl a couple of times and it pains me that she had to experience that.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-112811747667938793?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/112811747667938793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=112811747667938793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/112811747667938793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/112811747667938793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2005/10/girl.html' title='The Girl'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-112750180605627438</id><published>2005-09-24T02:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-24T03:09:11.170+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dynamic Human Spirit</title><content type='html'>&lt;img alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y289/e05962/TimeSphere.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my badly edited artsy photoshop picture..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Words from Prof. Louis Mackey from the movie "Waking Life" :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are two kinds of sufferers in this world: those who suffer from a lack of life, and those who suffer from an over-abundance of life. I have always found myself in the second category. When you come to think of it, almost all human behavior and activity is not, essentially, any different from animal behavior. The most advanced technologies and craftsmanship bring us, at best, up to the super-chimpanzee level. Actually, the gap between, say, Plato or Nietzsche, and the average human is greater than the gap between that chimpanzee and the average human. The realm of the real spirit, the true artist, the saint, the philosopher, is rarely achieved. Why so few? Why is world history and evolution not stories of progress, rather this endless and futile addition of zeros? &lt;strong&gt;No greater values have developed&lt;/strong&gt;. Hell, the Greeks 3,000 years ago were just as advanced as we are. So what are these barriers that keep people from reaching anywhere near their real potential. The answer to that can be found in another question, and that's this: which is the most universal human characteristic: fear or laziness?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MY COMMENT:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can answer the question with complete confidence that it can very well be both fear and laziness and lack of knowledge, Knowledge on things that matter, things that separate us from the other animals. We, as humans can distinguish the natural fact that we are far more different and beyond capable of creating things and thinking things that can kick this world up a notch and make it a better planet to live in. But, being the big human irony that we are, the only life form that's stopping this progress is us humans. Technology, yes it’s nice to speed things up and ease everyday living, but that’s a very shallow road to thread to make the human life better than it was a million years ago. Whatever happened to things like creativity, truth, respect and hundreds of human traits that were subject to de-emphasis and de-evolution. It looks as if it was shrouded by things that don’t matter like power, money and reputation among many others. What ever happened to the dynamic human spirit? We will always be victims of this sad reality and I can’t stop thinking about the future. The vicious cycle will always go on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-112750180605627438?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/112750180605627438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=112750180605627438' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/112750180605627438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/112750180605627438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2005/09/dynamic-human-spirit.html' title='Dynamic Human Spirit'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-112689399424853856</id><published>2005-09-17T01:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-17T02:09:55.106+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Know this</title><content type='html'>Sometimes the truth stares you right in the face and you still deny it exists. We dwell so much on our monotonous life that we forget that there is something MORE that we can do. That we can control it somehow. We just have to learn how to and what to do. I can say the same thing for opportunity. I believe the greater being throws us tons of it, but sadly, we fail to recognize its existence, then we miss it. We live our lives with hundreds of regrets and failures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people think they know everything. Those of you who think they know everything are very annoying to those of us who do. So please, think before you open your mouth. My father always tells me think 10 times before actually doing something. I can be very spontaneous and irrational sometimes, but I do think 10 times before I act. It may look random, but I do analyze things. But on some rare occurence I came across 2 evils, and I have to chose from one of them,I always like to try the one I've never tried before. So that's that...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-112689399424853856?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/112689399424853856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=112689399424853856' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/112689399424853856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/112689399424853856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2005/09/know-this.html' title='Know this'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-112611586831279814</id><published>2005-09-08T01:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-08T01:57:48.316+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Answer to your question...</title><content type='html'>Its you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-112611586831279814?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/112611586831279814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=112611586831279814' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/112611586831279814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/112611586831279814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2005/09/answer-to-your-question.html' title='Answer to your question...'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-112508808110628981</id><published>2005-08-27T03:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-27T04:28:01.136+08:00</updated><title type='text'>MAD CASH</title><content type='html'>Word of advice for "aspiring" employees...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        I have been an employee for some time. My exact salary NET is 13K per month. I was promised otherwise, 17k to be precise. I bought a motorcycle for 53K, you can make a rough estimate on how long i've been doing the work. And yes it was a callcenter. Before, I was experiencing what I call "survival salary". Working your ass off to produce money to even work harder. I'm not going to tackle all the details, It is hard to digest for some. Work hard, and keep doing it to survive, It wasn't worth it. The time I spent, time I wasted, time that I own, I deserve, was gone. No amount of money can ever replace the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        I've been nagging people how it works. You graduate from college only to realize that you'll end up in a job, at best, with a 20K below salary. And thats entry level. Working like a slave to climb the corporate ladder to candy coat your measly salary up to 40k per month. By that time I'm spending more time trying to figure out how NOT to lose hair, I'll be as old as my salary, 40 and old. The reality doesn't stop there. Promotion is relative. And I'm sure people don't get promoted that easily. It's either you have "MAD SKILLZ" or an outstanding background on the job, let's get real, the majority veers on mediocrity. Mad skills are god given, not acquired. Yes, I hate employment, if employment benifits all and is the most lucrative way to EARN cash, then try and name just one person you know that made MAD CASH by being an employee. And you know what I mean by "MAD CASH". The type of cash that makes other people lose their minds. But still you are not THE BOSS. If you're earning MAD CASH, guess who's earning even MADDER CASH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      I rest my case, some people will still be too dumb to realize, or playing dumb. Either way, they're not getting any younger. By the time they reach the corporate high levels, they'll be TOO OLD to do anything but play golf and do DAD Stuff. So sad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-112508808110628981?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/112508808110628981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=112508808110628981' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/112508808110628981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/112508808110628981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2005/08/mad-cash.html' title='MAD CASH'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-112377716441803783</id><published>2005-08-11T23:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-12T00:19:24.433+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Eggs</title><content type='html'>I've been a victim of false realizations and fabricated generalizations that lead to nothing but a bararge of disappointments and heartaches. "You count your eggs... too soon... don't count your eggs...", that's what my inner self constantly whispers to my ear. Fuck yeah I count my eggs, its better than being numb and clueless, at least I think it's better. No offense to all egg lovers.  So from now on, no egg counting. Hehe&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-112377716441803783?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/112377716441803783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=112377716441803783' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/112377716441803783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/112377716441803783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2005/08/eggs.html' title='Eggs'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-112195846469078723</id><published>2005-07-21T23:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-21T23:07:44.696+08:00</updated><title type='text'>n00b</title><content type='html'>Cars and jeeps fleet by as I walk through the road to katipunan. The place was almost alien to me. That flyover and that LRT station, two massive concrete blocks that lead people to that 3rd world type light rail. Don't expect the best in this country. I started mumbling incoherent words to myself, just my way to pass time while walking. Sometimes, people do catch me talking to myself and violently stare at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was, maybe I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have reached rock bottom that day. I had enough money for jeep and tricycle fares. Lunch was not an option. I found 10 pesos in coins hidden in one of my bag pockets. I pulled in a long breath and bought a bag of nagaraya nuts. The school fountain provided refreshment from the sodium laced meal. At least I would last up to 4pm. I scored a cigarette stick from some guy I sit beside in class. He pulled a pack after the class and asked me if I wanted one. I almost grabbed the stick, but I held my posture and said thanks. I still don't know his name.  While lighting the cig outside, my hands was shaking unusually, maybe from the lack of food,  or from the deep sadness I was feeling that day. I wanted to pass out on the cement road. I had to drag myself to ride a jeep. A group of fat ladies started complaining about the Jeep fare. I wasn't sure my conscience would allow me to tell the ladies to shut up. I'm almost a hundred percent sure my day was worse than theirs. I wasn't complaining. And I'm sure a fat lady wouldn't consider a bag of nuts as a gourmet lunch. So faking sleep resolved my problem. The jeep was playing a bad pinoy metal band song. The singer went "WUPAW!" like 500 thousand times, it was stupid, never amused me. The Jeep raced passed vehicles at top speed, swaying violently side ti side while making turns. I noticed a lady closing her eyes and laughing. I had to pull the "stop rope" about 15 meters before my stop to make sure they stop exactly where I want them to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got off and went home. Trying to absorb the day as it was slowly ending. I went to bed, Equipped with a newfound respect for money and unconditional love for nagaraya nuts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-112195846469078723?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/112195846469078723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=112195846469078723' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/112195846469078723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/112195846469078723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2005/07/n00b.html' title='n00b'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-112169291254490839</id><published>2005-07-18T21:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-18T21:21:52.550+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dirt on PC</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;2 weeks ago, my PC died down on me. So for 2 weeks no PC. Then I fixed it, turns out it was shitloads of dirt in the processor heat sink and a bad power supply. So i'm back, I don't think people care though hehe. My thoughts next post.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-112169291254490839?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/112169291254490839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=112169291254490839' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/112169291254490839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/112169291254490839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2005/07/dirt-on-pc.html' title='Dirt on PC'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-111961073512212293</id><published>2005-06-24T18:04:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-24T18:58:55.153+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything's Hillarious</title><content type='html'>There's too many dumb things happening around that I crack myself up everyday. I saw a paint written message near the katipunan LRT station, "OUST GLORIA! - Gabriela" , yes, big leap for women rights advocates. Suddenly they forgot what theyre fighting for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My socsci teacher keep purging this chick for wearing "inaapropriate attire" in school. That poor girl, she was quite hot too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best laugh I had this week was while playing DOTA, I love beating people all over the world on a game. I'm a gamer, bottom line, I was born to play games.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-111961073512212293?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/111961073512212293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=111961073512212293' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/111961073512212293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/111961073512212293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2005/06/everythings-hillarious.html' title='Everything&apos;s Hillarious'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-111834167769101203</id><published>2005-06-10T02:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-10T02:27:57.693+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Movie Plot</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Heres a movie plot I wrote way back... I got tired of writing beyond this, someone tell me if I should go back at it...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;"The plot would be set way back in the late 80’s, here in the Philippines, on a normal city setting. The protagonist would be an unlikely one. He would not be part of the story, but rather, a watcher, a narrator if you will. The narrator would be named 25, just 25. He would have complete access to what is happening to the story but he would have no power or control over the natural flow of the characters, he would just watch, both significant and void at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     25 would just exist within a certain point in the story, acting both as proof and a navigational tool to the correct course of the tale. 25 would be male in gender, possibly to point out that 25 would exist as the author’s bias and ideas. 25 would not be seen or be heard by the characters, he is a sentient being but can also be “felt” depending on the characters psychic strength. Given these conditions, 25 would be the weakest and strongest character throughout the course of the story, Weak because he is invalid, Strong because he is omnipresent, omniscient and uncontested."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-111834167769101203?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/111834167769101203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=111834167769101203' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/111834167769101203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/111834167769101203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2005/06/movie-plot.html' title='Movie Plot'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-111764986015851101</id><published>2005-06-02T02:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-02T02:17:40.163+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Totally Impatient</title><content type='html'>I posted a rant about sending a girl a message and not getting a reply back, well I take the rant back, she did reply, Friendster™ system was fu*cked up and I just got the message she sent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It reminds me how technology compromised my relationship with friends, like sending someone a message using SMS, it seems impersonal and most of the time you send out a message that's solely dependent to the readers capacity to interpret something that you sent. You cannot put hand gestures or body motions or facial expressions over the information superhighway. We are only limited to a sad and happy face. And we all know there's probably a thousand human expressions and gestures, not to mention the combinations and current social update of expressions, it's crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So again, I take back what I said about her not writing back, she did, and it's the first time she opened up to me like that, and that really made my day. I guess I have a lot to thank technology.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-111764986015851101?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/111764986015851101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=111764986015851101' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/111764986015851101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/111764986015851101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2005/06/totally-impatient.html' title='Totally Impatient'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-111755620349082133</id><published>2005-06-01T00:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-01T00:17:40.813+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Totally misunderstood</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Something I sent someone in friendster™&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For some reason, you cancelled being friends with me here in friendster. And for the record, that made me really sad. Unfortunately for me, somewhere between chance and acceptance, I was deprived enormously with both, by you, of course. I did say I liked you, not in your face, but I did try, again I was silenced by rejection. I wanted to be just your friend, not some guy you know from school. I wasn't the BS person you thought I am. The jerk that spits out crap from here and there. And I have to admit, I felt, that was who you thought I am. I am someone deeper that what you think I was. Just wanted you to know what I feel, and hoping that you would give me a chance to let you know the real me..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She just added me to her friends list and didn't bother to reply.&lt;br /&gt;At first my face lighted up, then I realized she just did what SHE thought I wanted. Then I took back my smile.&lt;br /&gt;First time I was happy for only 2 seconds in my whole life.&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;The story would be longer, but I don't feel like sharing the whole thing, just figure it out, it's all in the letter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-111755620349082133?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/111755620349082133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=111755620349082133' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/111755620349082133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/111755620349082133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2005/06/totally-misunderstood.html' title='Totally misunderstood'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-111385516191425886</id><published>2005-04-19T03:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-19T04:18:55.196+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome Understanding</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Hello understanding, it’s me again, where have you been?&lt;br /&gt;I had a short conversation over the phone with a good friend and muse, Kim. While chewing the fat for a while we came across a very familiar topic, it’s all about relationships.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That made me think about the time I wasted going into meaningless, physically shallow relationships that ended up being, well, crap. Story of my life, I am still a victim of society. I always turn my head when I see a really hot girl pass by, that’s natural, I’m a caveman. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;I admit, I like beauty, but I value brains and wit better. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Being good looking is a bonus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;And those of you who are really good looking and I’m pretty sure you know it, don’t take advantage, that’s worse than cheating. Do not use your gift as leverage, it also fades.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for love, I did meet love sometime in my 22 years, I could not understand it. I only knew it was there, it was pure and devious. It took out the best and worst of me at the same time. I was a student of love, and I learned the hard way, the hard life altering way. But it sure drew me closer to understanding, so it was partly, worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My endless dilemma, the one I like, likes someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;This happens to me all the time, all the time, all the time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it sure pisses me off, and its unfair, bad form.&lt;br /&gt;But it has reasons, things you cannot change or control, we do not have to power to make decisions for someone else, we are not the law.&lt;br /&gt;Circumstance is the enemy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m an honest person, but I’m not tactless, so I’m a big irony. I’m also quite adept in keeping my true feelings, about someone I really like, so I’m a coward, a big massive coward. Although I try and wear a mask completely the opposite, but we all wear masks, we all do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand now that what I try to be is not who I am, who I want to be known. My quest now is to figure out and understand life, the one that I am living. A life understood, is a life lived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-111385516191425886?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/111385516191425886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=111385516191425886' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/111385516191425886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/111385516191425886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2005/04/welcome-understanding.html' title='Welcome Understanding'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-109644582498269876</id><published>2004-09-29T16:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-29T16:19:41.526+08:00</updated><title type='text'>On Names...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;I'm not really good at names. Sometimes, I spend an hour talking to a person and I keep forgetting the name of the person I'm talking to. I know it's kind of rude and idiotic to forget a name. But I'm pretty sure most of the time they're the same to me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-109644582498269876?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/109644582498269876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=109644582498269876' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/109644582498269876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/109644582498269876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2004/09/on-names.html' title='On Names...'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-109628053895716561</id><published>2004-09-27T18:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-27T18:25:43.766+08:00</updated><title type='text'>On Education...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;I wish schooling was a pill taken everyday, It wouldv'e saved me a lot of time aqcuring it, and more time burning it...you know, with beer and whatnot...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-109628053895716561?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/109628053895716561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=109628053895716561' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/109628053895716561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/109628053895716561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2004/09/on-education.html' title='On Education...'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-109593503692118349</id><published>2004-09-23T18:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-23T18:28:06.743+08:00</updated><title type='text'>On men and peeing...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;I can say right now, and I know this is true, All the men in the world don't wash their hands after taking a pee. At least I know I don't, it's not a requirement, and I think it's out of plain stupidity to pee at yourself. I don't touch it, it's clean, trust me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-109593503692118349?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/109593503692118349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=109593503692118349' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/109593503692118349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/109593503692118349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2004/09/on-men-and-peeing.html' title='On men and peeing...'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-109585197643219605</id><published>2004-09-22T19:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-22T19:36:39.586+08:00</updated><title type='text'>On sense of smell...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;I don't want to lose my sense of smell. It would really bother me when I take a deep breath inside an elevator and not realize someone let out a nice, thick, pre-meditated, ninja fart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-109585197643219605?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/109585197643219605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=109585197643219605' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/109585197643219605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/109585197643219605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2004/09/on-sense-of-smell.html' title='On sense of smell...'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-109567717690161155</id><published>2004-09-20T18:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-20T18:46:16.900+08:00</updated><title type='text'>On scalpers...</title><content type='html'>I think the reason they call scalpers "scalpers" is that when we realize the grand amount of cash we spent on the tickets they sell, we pull the hair on our scalp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-109567717690161155?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/109567717690161155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=109567717690161155' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/109567717690161155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/109567717690161155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2004/09/on-scalpers.html' title='On scalpers...'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-109525051640089898</id><published>2004-09-15T19:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-15T20:18:58.170+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Working Haze</title><content type='html'>I was at work today, the usual 5am-2pm schedule. I work as tech support by the way, for an outsourcer of DELL. So I troubleshoot DELL computers over the phone. Taking in irate calls and what not was the dream job for me. You listen to people belt out their worst at you and run out of breath at the very last second and realizing its NOT YOUR FAULT, I get a kick out of that. But some customers really shout and go ballistic at you, now that was precious, I've had calls where some people would just scream at you and hang up. Like this one call I had, this guy was just chanting, "Dell sucks, Dell sucks , Dell sucks...". It took him 5 minutes to eventually realize the dumb nature of his call and he lightly put down his phone. I crack at those calls, sometimes too hard that my colleagues think I'm having a better conversation with a better customer, and sometimes they do get jealous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But sometimes I get really cool calls from mexican people (because of their last name and wicked accent) "Sumtheeng WroOownG WeeTH My MawwNitur". I got a call from a chinese dude a week ago, I was asking him his Express Service Code (thats how you check if they own the system), and the dude was like, "Yeh, EckspRes SerRviZ CohoDe Eez, Wan Fo Nay...Jeh RoW". And I was stumped, I asked him back what was the last one, because it sounded more like Jay Roll or Day Bowl, he turned irate chinese dude on me and stressed out in complete chinese accent, JeH RoW, WAN, ToO, THRI, FOW, JeH RoW. AND BAM IT HIT ME...IT WAS ZERO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really love my work, I get to meet 10-17 people a day and I get to talk to them about life and what's it worth. Sometimes when I do resolve a problem, I get a thank you like, "Aris, you're ok!" or "You're my hero peaches, I can't thank you enough!". And to tell you frankly, Just to hear you laugh or smile on the phone (because you can tell when someone is smiling over the phone) and is always willing to cooperate with the trouble shooting, that is more than a thank you for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-109525051640089898?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/109525051640089898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=109525051640089898' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/109525051640089898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/109525051640089898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2004/09/working-haze.html' title='Working Haze'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321746.post-109515808030375640</id><published>2004-09-14T18:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-14T18:34:40.303+08:00</updated><title type='text'>In the middle of things</title><content type='html'>Created blog site, thing, whatever today. Seems like a good place to release frustrations from work and bright new ideas picked up from everyday life...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8321746-109515808030375640?l=wearebutmen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/feeds/109515808030375640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8321746&amp;postID=109515808030375640' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/109515808030375640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8321746/posts/default/109515808030375640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearebutmen.blogspot.com/2004/09/in-middle-of-things.html' title='In the middle of things'/><author><name>Aris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04623608484439808724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/58/94/2104985/462437003l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
