<?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-3813423</id><updated>2011-04-22T04:15:56.522+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The third finger</title><subtitle type='html'>The new adventures of third finger and friends.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>267</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-110071528778278763</id><published>2004-11-17T18:09:00.004Z</published><updated>2004-11-17T18:45:50.620Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Why I am going to live on salmon and caviar for the rest of my time hereSo I was slurping on my 8p spaghetti (ok fine I wasn't, but it would have made for such dramatic effect) when ma sent me a text message:"Yoohoo!" She wrote, "The girls have finished their exams so we're going to Korea to ski! We're going to be gone a week so don't call us!"Double humph.~~The queen is coming! The </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/110071528778278763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/110071528778278763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_11_01_archive.html#110071528778278763' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-110008660922587757</id><published>2004-11-10T11:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-12-23T15:04:34.793Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>still bits and pieces, because, plain lazy.if, after reading the oct 15 entry, it sounds like i'm unhappy,you are wrong.(if, after reading the previous sentence, it sounds like there's something structurally weird about it and this one,you are right.)i am happy. i am not insanely happy, but i am not unhappy. i also might start giving out this blog address soon, here. more about being </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/110008660922587757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/110008660922587757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_11_01_archive.html#110008660922587757' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-109975955439953509</id><published>2004-11-06T17:40:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-11-06T16:45:54.400Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I would like to write, but it's 4.38pm and the sun's setting so I'd best get my grocery shopping done first. Target for today: no individual item more than 50p. We'll see how that goes.Tesco (muaks muaks) here I come.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109975955439953509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109975955439953509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_11_01_archive.html#109975955439953509' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-109970990431961639</id><published>2004-11-06T02:32:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-11-06T02:58:24.320Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>My god. The Times Higher Education Supplement did a ranking on the world's top 200 universities, and our very own NUS got the no.18 spot, above Columbia, Cornell, UCL, Carnegie Mellon and the like. Waaay above.Ha. Ha. (this is not in disagreement...just...i dunno...just.)NTU's 50, above Duke and Brown. (sure. ptui.)I say I say I say.I really don't know what to say. Except maybe that's why</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109970990431961639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109970990431961639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_11_01_archive.html#109970990431961639' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-109785588019460808</id><published>2004-10-15T16:40:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-10-15T18:03:16.130+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>bits and pieces cos 15 days and i'm still jetlagged. god. and you'd think it wouldn't matter to someone who used to sleep in the day and work (i.e. play) in the night.the brits refuse to speak to me cos they don't understand me. :( that is no good.either that or i'm ugly. :( that is no good.i've spoken to a few brazilians, indians, malaysians, polish, taiwanese, chinese, hongkongers, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109785588019460808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109785588019460808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_10_01_archive.html#109785588019460808' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-109371155744374952</id><published>2004-08-28T16:19:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-08-28T17:54:52.606+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Seen Jennifer Garner on the cover of 8 days? I mean, woah.~~It's hard not to be cynical. From Straits Times:"...all new societies...registered automatically unless their activities fall within a list of specified interests. For example...:religion, ethnicity, nationality, political association, gender or sexual orientation; human rights, environmental rights and animal rights; discussing </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109371155744374952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109371155744374952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109371155744374952' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-109353669247758483</id><published>2004-08-26T17:01:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-08-26T17:11:32.476+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>- parent /par-&amp;nt/ noun : creature who stuffs durians down your throat despite your having stitched gums because "Eat! Eat! Go there then no chance to eat already!"~~Me: It'll be great if I can find a job there afterwards wouldn't it? Wonder why uncle Chai came back here.Pa: ...Pa: ...Pa: Maybe because he has relatives back here, home where he belongs.Me: ...Me: ...Me: Well it's not </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109353669247758483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109353669247758483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109353669247758483' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-109344894040316976</id><published>2004-08-25T16:18:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-08-26T17:00:18.856+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Everyday I learn new things about myself, and think, "Damn I'm really special!"Today's discovery: I have the superpower of speedy regeneration (prob twice that of tapeworms). How do I know this? I know this because I had two wisdom teeth extracted and the healing after was a piece of cake. I came home, spat out the gauze and never took a second look at the medication. Not even a single round </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109344894040316976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109344894040316976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109344894040316976' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-109276498682959357</id><published>2004-08-17T17:38:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-08-25T18:04:46.000+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm leaving in about a month's time. Have I applied for visa? No. Have I applied for the ISIC? No. Have I made accommodation plans? No. Have I set up my bank account? No. Have I booked my air ticket? No. Have I packed? Have I thought about what to pack so I can go buy what I lack? Do I even have a suitcase? No no no. What have I been doing instead? I have been...shopping for a cheap way to go </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109276498682959357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109276498682959357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109276498682959357' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-109259095736402465</id><published>2004-08-15T18:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-08-15T18:29:17.363+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Byebye China Top Seed.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109259095736402465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109259095736402465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109259095736402465' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-109258909119004898</id><published>2004-08-15T17:55:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-08-15T17:58:11.190+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Susilo takes the first set!!! Woohoo!!!!!!</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109258909119004898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109258909119004898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109258909119004898' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-109244958990856146</id><published>2004-08-14T03:13:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-08-15T16:38:02.816+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Tutee boy is a genius. A one time demonstration, and he came back a week after whistling a whole song. I hope the mother doesn't think he's picking up too many bad habits from me.~~There were so many "open"s and "inclusive"s and "diversity"s in Lee's inauguration speech that ten minutes into it and I felt like strangling myself (just cos I couldn't get at him) and yelling, "I get the idea, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109244958990856146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109244958990856146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109244958990856146' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-109228384817394042</id><published>2004-08-12T04:58:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-08-12T05:13:41.006+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Singapore gets a new prime minister, and BBC kaypohs about it -&gt; http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/3556982.stmMeanwhile, Singaporeans celebrate the joyous occasion by buying 4D!Popular numbers:- any permutation of 8, 1, 2, and a random number (12th aug)- any permutation of 5, 2, 5, 2 (52 years old, born in 1952)- '' '' '' the numbers of his birthday- '' '' '' the numbers on his </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109228384817394042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109228384817394042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109228384817394042' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-109211596326095368</id><published>2004-08-10T06:32:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-08-10T15:14:26.956+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The sis and I have both been having nightmares.Mine:In a classroom. Everyone writing on their test papers furiously. But for me. I can't think, just can't think. I need a perfect score - I must get a perfect score, or something really bad would happen - I think. Everyone hands in their papers. Except me, of course. Two questions left. Bloody why can't I do the two questions. I write some </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109211596326095368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109211596326095368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109211596326095368' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-109194017945689232</id><published>2004-08-08T03:21:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-08-08T05:42:59.456+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Revenge of the http://www.dimsumdollies.com/ was f.u.c.k.i.n.g h.i.l.a.r.i.o.u.s! It was a blast and a half! All Singaporeans should go see it!~~For a long time I believed in the Singaporean Dream, or what I believed to be it: "...regardless of race, language and religion, to build a democratic society, based on justice and equality, so as to achieve happiness..."But when discrimination</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109194017945689232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109194017945689232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109194017945689232' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-109181171959594838</id><published>2004-08-06T16:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-08-06T20:35:01.843+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Got a call from J at 1.30am, because she needed "Help! Drank too much tea and feel like running a marathon. Right now."I am extremely (though not exclusively) fond of those people I vaguely term my friends. This one, this one is flying east even before I fly west, and yet, and yet, I am so bloody certain it won't end here, and not for a long time in fact. It is a saddish-comfortingish kind of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109181171959594838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109181171959594838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109181171959594838' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-109160588215433654</id><published>2004-08-04T08:50:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-08-04T08:51:22.153+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Scamper died today. I buried him.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109160588215433654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109160588215433654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109160588215433654' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-109153363010370609</id><published>2004-08-03T09:17:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-08-04T04:52:05.736+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>So. What I've been wanting for some time now is finally within grasp. Just a few more clicks - and I'll be done. THEY are waiting for ME to say yes. Been putting it off though. I don't know. People have been far too supportive. This has been way too easy. I am such a parasite.Still, the chance to start on a clean slate. The chance to stop running round and round and start moving forward. The </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109153363010370609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109153363010370609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109153363010370609' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-109138197003484203</id><published>2004-08-01T18:12:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-08-01T18:52:55.396+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Parents are amazing creatures. They can, like, predict your day's movements from your breathing patterns or something:Pa: Where are you going?Me: Meeting no. 2. We're going to watch something.Pa: "Private parts" is it?Me: How?...But we've only just decided...Pa: Eeyer.So finally watched the Michael Chiang play after hearing so much about it. My favourite line was:F-M transsexual: It </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109138197003484203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/109138197003484203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109138197003484203' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108983171214968115</id><published>2004-07-14T19:39:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-07-14T20:34:36.996+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>No. 2 joins me at the pool now, and it's amazing how much more I notice with her around. There is, in particular, a girl, whom no. 2 calls "the bikini babe". I must have seen her before, many times, but just not noticed, and it's puzzling now that I have why I didn't before.No. 2: There she is again.Me: Who?No. 2: The bikini babe.Me: Who?No. 2: *points to athletic looking girl wearing very </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108983171214968115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108983171214968115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108983171214968115' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108965516624044383</id><published>2004-07-12T18:39:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-07-12T19:30:45.686+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Tuition today, and I was introduced to Captain Underpants and some adventure about talking toilets and "itchcraft", and had my astronomy knowledge tested. I passed with flying colours, but I suppose it was easy when all I had to do is say "yes".Boy: Teacher teacher, do you know there are some places so far away that sunlight takes years to reach them?Me: Yes.Boy: Do you know that the sun will</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108965516624044383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108965516624044383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108965516624044383' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108955485560744789</id><published>2004-07-11T14:39:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-07-11T15:07:35.606+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Jol* is back! Just knowing that seems to make Singapore a much happier place to be. Hehe. I don't really know how to say this, but you know, like it tips the equation of dumbasses vs good people. Something like that. So here's to you, Jol.*The one and only</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108955485560744789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108955485560744789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108955485560744789' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108954861221753142</id><published>2004-07-07T13:21:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-07-11T14:38:53.956+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Shook out of sleep at 9 a.m. by no. 2, having only slept five hours the night before, to perform an emergency hair rescue operation. Turned out quite well, I thought, my handiwork.And the miscellaneous pics, because the camera was out anyway.~~They say (they always have something to say, don't they?) that life will keep throwing the same challenges at you if you stubbornly refuse to learn </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108954861221753142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108954861221753142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108954861221753142' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108912906617444787</id><published>2004-07-06T16:41:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-07-11T13:18:09.613+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The things you get talked into doing.So. I now look like a cross between an ah beng and an ah soh because it was "1 for $45, 2 for $80!". Seriously. The things one do. It's kinda like no. 2's mahjong friend and her multiple ear-holes:No. 2: Wah, why you go and pierce so many holes in your ears?Friend: Oh, I'd wanted only one on each side at first, but then I went to the shop and it was 1 for</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108912906617444787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108912906617444787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108912906617444787' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108887706516291669</id><published>2004-07-03T18:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-07-03T19:15:46.023+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Today was a good face dayL: Err...err...ok lah...you look good in an offbeat kindof wayNo man. I look good every way.~~ChannelNewsAsia, Tonight in Person:CoolLookingOldishWoman: ...I will come back some time, in the future... ...My heart is in Singapore, my roots are in Singapore. However, right now, my soul...my soul is in New York.No. 2: Wah...she's very sure where different parts of</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108887706516291669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108887706516291669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108887706516291669' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108879411732550050</id><published>2004-07-02T19:04:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-07-02T20:00:39.510+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>One woman's meatCoerced by no. 2 to sit by her while she perused this site, because "bulk purchase means free shipping!".No. 2: Oooohhh....ooooooo....look at this! And this! Niceeee! Ahhhh....hehehehe....wheehehehe... *greedy look**click click* *gasp* *click click click* *wheeze* No. 2: This site makes me so happy! *greedy look, slight drool*Me: Tell me again why I'm looking at this?No. 2</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108879411732550050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108879411732550050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108879411732550050' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108696170934540892</id><published>2004-06-11T14:45:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-06-18T20:19:45.326+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>SpiffySoup and smoothie and old friend-people.One of them people said I looked spiffy. Spiffy. I didn't know I could be anything other than Casual. I like old friend-people. They warm my heart.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108696170934540892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108696170934540892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108696170934540892' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108685359275417573</id><published>2004-06-10T08:44:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-06-18T20:22:18.666+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Two of her, two of me, two of usNo. 3 playing chinese chess with herself:No. 3: Aiyah, lose already.Me: Err, well, yes, see one of you had to....No. 3: Yay! I win!Me: ...~~Laughing when you're sad, and rather maniacally, too, is Rather Strange, but so is everything else. And I've seen it done on tv. So it's done. Laughing causes the release of endorphins. So does crying. Same thing </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108685359275417573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108685359275417573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108685359275417573' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108669044579351790</id><published>2004-06-08T10:17:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-06-18T20:23:09.983+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Boy. Woman.Me: So, you know the meaning of this word right? Divorce?Boy tutee: Yeah. *holds up two pens* It's like two people quarrel quarrel quarrel *strikes the two pens together repeatedly* and then leave each other. *separates the two pens*Me: Yes but before they can be divorced they must first be...Boy tutee: Married.Me: Right. Very go--Boy: And before that they must love each other </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108669044579351790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108669044579351790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108669044579351790' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108593591234331315</id><published>2004-05-30T16:04:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-06-18T20:24:17.466+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>River. Book. Still-danceTook a short walk with Leonard along the river (alright, sea, river mouth, whatever) today, because weather report said day was unsuitable for spending at beach. He was mighty enjoyable company - mostly quiet, but comfortingly present. No pressure to talk. I like.Then dinner with wise old friend. I'll be proud of myself if I were to anyone what she is to me.~~No. 3</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108593591234331315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108593591234331315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108593591234331315' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108551232117727940</id><published>2004-05-25T19:51:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-05-25T20:32:39.813+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Original SinIt must be real sad to be able to identify with Young Adam's Joe, and it is; sad.Amorality. Irresponsibility. Running, away. Perfecting detachment. Drift drift drift.Life is lifelessness and love is lovelessness; death is death and sex is sex :))I wonder if no. 2 is not just the wisest:No. 2: Money is my ethics.Hey, at least she's got something.~~And, now, LIFE!:1: </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108551232117727940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108551232117727940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108551232117727940' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108541273428110866</id><published>2004-05-24T16:31:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-05-24T16:32:49.086+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>*shiver* pokpokpok:(:((</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108541273428110866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108541273428110866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108541273428110866' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108537707873062694</id><published>2004-05-24T06:37:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-05-24T06:38:21.993+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>rainy days and mondays always get me down</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108537707873062694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108537707873062694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108537707873062694' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108451456657347413</id><published>2004-05-14T06:20:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-05-16T12:56:37.373+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Yesterday I saw a man with a head half the size of other people's and a woman whose boobs were at her waist. I'm not exaggerating.~~Heehee.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108451456657347413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108451456657347413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108451456657347413' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108409972078704804</id><published>2004-05-09T11:48:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-05-09T12:40:22.856+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>One says nothing, I suppose, when one has nothing to say (duh), or too much to say. And then there are the wildly disparate things you want to say to different people regarding the same circumstance.I am sorry.I am not sorry.~~Days lost. Sleep forgone. Snippets remembered. Wonder what I'll remember."You have more hair than I've ever seen you with.""It's so strange to put an expiry </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108409972078704804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108409972078704804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108409972078704804' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108244094286915876</id><published>2004-04-20T07:02:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-04-20T08:06:46.106+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow(, tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day. Heh)Yesterday: Nine laps and a gigantic bowl of bittergourd soup. Yumyum.I finally did it right, I think. No bitterness. I think. Quite amazing really. A few loose ends, but those shouldn't matter. Still dammit it would have been perfect had I been given the chance to fix that last thing. I guess.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108244094286915876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108244094286915876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108244094286915876' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108230305139930881</id><published>2004-04-18T16:44:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-04-20T08:02:39.513+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I feel like being tedious todayor, I want to have control6 something a.m.:woken up by hunger pangs. went down to kitchen only to discover no food on table!!! (lazy maid notchyet wake up. ok lah, not school-day, so she can sleep longer). decided that, being 25, can cook breakfast for self. decided to cook only an egg cos was promised dim sum breakfast at johor bahru. boiled water. replied a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108230305139930881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108230305139930881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108230305139930881' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108219945083217091</id><published>2004-04-17T11:57:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-04-17T12:01:25.310+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I went swimming today on a full stomach (sausage mcmuffin + bowl of noodles) and had a thought: What if someone had puked into the pool while swimming? Now that would be a sight.After eight laps (aiyah start off slowly first) I plopped onto a chair and proceeded to roast myself. I wanted to do a one hour tan (half an hour front, half an hour back) but after forty-five minutes got myself a right</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108219945083217091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108219945083217091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108219945083217091' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108195569421991425</id><published>2004-04-14T16:14:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-04-14T16:33:33.920+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>No. 2 in one of her usual moods:No. 2: Whooooooo.....livesinapineapple under the sea?No. 2: Who? *turns to me* Who?Me: Errr...give up. Who?No. 2: SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!Me: Ok.No. 2: Squareandyellow, absorbent is he!No. 2: SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108195569421991425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108195569421991425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108195569421991425' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108194183791579763</id><published>2004-04-14T12:23:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-04-14T12:35:37.840+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>MmmnnWent to the pool today and was eyeing a little girl of about 4/5/6. She had a six pack. Hmmmnnrrr. I've never had a six pack. Life is very unfair. Also met one of my tutees there, so it was real lucky I didn't go in my bikini top, teehee.I have nothing very much to say nowadays (if you hadn't already noticed), so I'll just resort to making funny noises.Mrowr.Bishhh.Hnnnh.Splat.No </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108194183791579763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108194183791579763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108194183791579763' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108169686423164840</id><published>2004-04-11T16:21:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-04-11T19:15:39.390+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Circus actNo. 2: Eh, this NKF thing is so confusing. So which number am I supposed to call? So many numbers. And must call how many times? Why charity also must so confusing one??Pa: Call now! Call now! Got car! Try our luck for the car!No. 2: Which number? The cheapest one is it?Pa: Use handphone! Use handphone! More prizes.No. 2: Whiiiiiich numberrrr?Pa: Must call within the next ten </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108169686423164840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108169686423164840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108169686423164840' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108148540867329431</id><published>2004-04-09T05:36:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-04-09T05:40:31.700+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Yesterday:Boy tutee: What's an "eerie glow"?Me: Uh...you know, in those horror shows, you have, like, green light all over the place, then very scary? You know? You know?Boy tutee: No.Me: You know...shows with ghosts in them? Then they shine like green light on their faces?Boy tutee: Oh.Me: Quite, like, icky right? That's eerie.Boy tutee: Orh. The light must be green?Me: No need lah, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108148540867329431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108148540867329431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108148540867329431' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108105726263507508</id><published>2004-04-04T06:41:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-04-04T06:44:39.200+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Dare?Life IS getting curiouser and curiouser.Hamster on a wheel running running.Safe if wheel works and stays in same spot. Safe if do not fall off wheel.Something bubbling and I have no idea what and I try to keep quiet and listen to it but it's noisy and tells me nothing.Sometimes it's peaceful and everything seems clear. Sometimes the confusion is rather enjoyable.In barely a week,</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108105726263507508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108105726263507508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108105726263507508' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108050553578535164</id><published>2004-03-28T21:25:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-03-28T21:32:38.340+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Truth. Beauty. Freedom.At the dinner I thought I was going to cry because the two of them looked so happy together. I've become such a sappy old thing sometimes I don't even recognise myself anymore.It is true, at least for some: Love is a many-splendored thing.Ok. Friend,Assuming you're not one of the girls as I'd previously thought, might you then be...MJL? Hmm? Hmm?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108050553578535164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108050553578535164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108050553578535164' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108034741251897731</id><published>2004-03-27T00:30:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-27T00:33:38.250Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Dear old friendWho are you? Are you EGZS? Hehe. Why the need for secrecy? Teeellllllllllll me. Don't keep me guessing.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108034741251897731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108034741251897731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108034741251897731' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108033373762115769</id><published>2004-03-26T20:42:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-27T00:32:51.293Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The story of 107 (+2) philosophersMe: Hey, this book about the different philosophical concepts throughout the ages is really informative, you want to read?No. 2: No thanks, I have no interest in reading philosophy.Me: No? You of all people?No. 2: Philosophy is a very personal thing. I don't see why I should allow myself to be influenced by other people's philosophies. Thoughts come to me </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108033373762115769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108033373762115769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108033373762115769' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-108014998664389139</id><published>2004-03-24T17:39:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-24T17:46:15.890Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Vanity, thy name is YanBloody goddamn facials are so goddamn bloody painful. I'm sure there are four new holes in my face now. And they bloody waste your time. Three whole hours! And bloody not cheap. This is the first and last time man. Maybe.The "aesthetician" must either think I'm an idiot, or she's one:Me: What are you doing to my face right now?Lady: This is a high frequency which </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108014998664389139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/108014998664389139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108014998664389139' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107990201341588457</id><published>2004-03-21T20:46:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-21T20:53:10.856Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Reason for application(?)"I want to immerse myself in a structured environment for learning once again; to pursue knowledge in a specific field of study not so much as a means to an end, but as an end in itself; to better myself by general education and consequently, hopefully, better the society at large.I want to try to break away from previous stubborn notions of mediocrity and learn to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107990201341588457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107990201341588457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107990201341588457' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107978418474717926</id><published>2004-03-20T12:03:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-20T17:21:34.450Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>No. 3 and no. 4.5 are off to watch the Disney on ice thing - Beauty and the Beast. They're not bringing me because there are only two tickets. At $20, two v. cheap tickets. I can hear them zipping off in the car now. Byebye. Boohoo.Nevermind. I'm going to make it up by going to "Pat Chan and friends", a jazz thing at the esplanade. I didn't know Pat Chan sang, but she's supposed to have a real </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107978418474717926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107978418474717926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107978418474717926' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107937584829796991</id><published>2004-03-15T18:37:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-15T19:29:49.750Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The reviewers are crazy, i.e. I enjoyed "The butterfly effect" very much. I am sorry I ever doubted you, Ashton Kutcher, you were convincing, to say the least. And Amy Smart! haha what a nice surprise. You were as cool as ever.It's not a new idea (what is, nowadays?), in fact, it's two really old ones:1) time travelling back to the past to try and change things lead to unpredictable, and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107937584829796991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107937584829796991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107937584829796991' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107928680330736636</id><published>2004-03-14T17:53:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-15T18:40:54.076Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Cars, have personalities. Some are nice and polite; some are mean; some are stupid, and some are smart. Yep, smart cars are coming to a road near you - watch out for them.Highlight of the day was when stuck in a wonky tiny yellow car squeezed full with crazy women:"Turn left." "Turn right." "Ahhhh!" "Honk at him!" "Ahhhh!" "How many demerit points do you think that would earn you?" "Don't let</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107928680330736636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107928680330736636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107928680330736636' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107918586894992279</id><published>2004-03-13T13:51:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-13T13:59:19.200Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Today was such a smelly day. Everywhere smelly. And lots of lightning. Must be all those talk about filial piety.Someone dialled my number by mistake, asking for tuition for her daughter. Whatever lah, money fall down from the sky must grab.More surprises:1) "Shoulder to cry on" by Tommy Page is one of most popular songs at Karaoke joint K-ster.2) I still remember how to sing songs by </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107918586894992279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107918586894992279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107918586894992279' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107915457687674394</id><published>2004-03-13T05:09:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-13T05:12:44.640Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Anyone wants to go scuba diving in April tell me by Tuesday. Think will have no sharks lah.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107915457687674394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107915457687674394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107915457687674394' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107902954466625045</id><published>2004-03-11T18:25:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-11T20:52:24.983Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Freedom!I braved the ugly face today and ventured outside, after having been nearly driven mad by the involuntary one-half week confinement the virus bestowed upon me. To think I wanted to sign up for the "surviving the sky" challenge. I overestimate myself. Good thing I could find no man willing to be stuck in a cable car with me. Strange though, because I would be only too happy to coop </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107902954466625045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107902954466625045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107902954466625045' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107889995271265690</id><published>2004-03-10T06:25:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-10T06:28:56.483Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>*Bounce bounce bounce*A friend arrived for Aya, the Meiji Marble Chocolate tiny teddy who shares my birthday, today. I shall call this bear Minky, because that is what is on the label.Minky was the centre of attention, because everyone is currently very free and has nothing better to do.Ma: Wah! A bear. Got music one or not? Why don't have music one? It's still very nice huh. Who gave it to</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107889995271265690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107889995271265690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107889995271265690' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107886550803417795</id><published>2004-03-09T20:51:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-09T20:55:47.903Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Fourteen years ago (or fifteen, or thirteen), about this time of year, March (yes, March would make sense), R and I had a serious discussion about the future. If, we promised each other, if we were still unhh unmarried by the time we were thirty (not too long now!), we would get a house together and live happily ever after, she with her dogs and I my cats.Thirty seemed an eternity away then. I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107886550803417795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107886550803417795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107886550803417795' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107876464020187494</id><published>2004-03-08T16:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-08T18:03:15.296Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>It is raining just nicely now. Quieter when it does - or maybe that's only from where I'm sitting - the hush of rain is all I hear. I imagine I'm one of the many who's holed up somewhere enjoying this, alone or otherwise (sigh). When it is like this only a piano instrumental can perfect the picture, and so I will share one with you lovely (I dunno, I'm guessing) people. There -&gt; under Midi of the</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107876464020187494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107876464020187494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107876464020187494' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107850617613768350</id><published>2004-03-05T17:02:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-05T17:05:55.890Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I want! I want to laugh and cry and jump up and down while stabbing myself all over. I want. Instead I'm staring, sitting down, at the laptop, typing, one letter by one purposeful letter, saying what I want.I want to yell out something. I want to go to the windows and shout, "I..." I I I I I. I am nothing. I AM NOTHING!I was reading the Tao Te Ching a while back and it said, something to the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107850617613768350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107850617613768350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107850617613768350' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107848651508625183</id><published>2004-03-05T11:35:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-05T11:46:20.890Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Oh, and before I forget, a little background info on chicken pox. Chicken pox (varicella) got nothing to do with chickens. Yep. Or birds. Chicken pox the name is because the pops are supposed to look like chickpeas. Like the chickpeas you see here.And pox means curse. Like, "A pox on your house!" that kind of curse.And Calamine lotion is really a great relief from the pops. It has to be the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107848651508625183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107848651508625183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107848651508625183' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107848503192804313</id><published>2004-03-05T11:10:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-05T11:40:25.420Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Today I woke up feeling much better than I had in days, though it still itches, because it's all relative, so it was all peachy and rainbows and lollipops...until I had to face some truths.What is it all about really? What what what what what what? Prob just so we can get to shack up (with someone nice). So sad.And I can't even do that now that I'm permanently disfigured. Nobody's gonna wanna</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107848503192804313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107848503192804313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107848503192804313' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107803592842155463</id><published>2004-02-29T06:25:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-02-29T06:28:18.950Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I HAVE CHICKEN POX!!I'm going to die. :(</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107803592842155463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107803592842155463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107803592842155463' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107789568160894439</id><published>2004-02-27T15:28:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-02-27T16:41:52.670Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>So sadWas jogging when I came across abandoned cute red baby shoe. Wished I had a camera. Poor sad baby shoe. I wanted to bring it home but thought the owner (or her/his parents) might come back for it.Should really stop staring at jogging bodies. They surely must know what I'm thinking...~~So depressingMonster was such a depressing film. I felt they were still far too sympathetic </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107789568160894439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107789568160894439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107789568160894439' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107769871943854112</id><published>2004-02-25T08:45:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-02-25T11:11:20.640Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>This week is loser weekOf course it's barely mid-week, but I can already envision the rest of it.~~9.30pm. Kind older relative gave ride to mrt station. Car stopped. Older relative gave parting words.Older relative: ... oldest in the family...parents love you...parents getting older...take charge of the family...role model for your sisters...the boys also look up to you...no idea how much</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107769871943854112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107769871943854112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107769871943854112' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107735152811357276</id><published>2004-02-21T08:18:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-02-21T08:29:00.450Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>thebear is quite the greedy bear. There is no photo of the boy, but I will give you this masterpiece, taken by no. 2 with the newly dropped-down-from-the-sky-acquired FujiFilm FinePix A205s.She calls it "Looking at the mess through the toes". Incidentally, the ugly toes are no. 2's and the beautiful mess mine.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107735152811357276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107735152811357276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107735152811357276' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107703539003689524</id><published>2004-02-17T16:17:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-02-17T16:38:01.250Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>About a boyNo. 2's. For thebear.He is tall. And well built. But not bulky, which is good. Bulky is no good. He has a big face, and big hands. And big feet. Maybe everywhere big. Hope she likes. Pretty tanned. I'd say a rugger. Hmm. I'd just realised that the fivestones, the rice drop out one, so mebbe he don't sew that well. Nevermind. He's quite polite. He reminded me of a friend's younger </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107703539003689524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107703539003689524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107703539003689524' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-10769623867910828</id><published>2004-02-16T20:09:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-02-16T20:15:40.983Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I wonder if people get kicks from visiting blogs at random and leaving disparaging remarks. Damn bloody ridiculous.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/10769623867910828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/10769623867910828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#10769623867910828' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107677241204055488</id><published>2004-02-14T15:26:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-02-14T15:29:23.123Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>If you wanna be happyIf you wanna be happy For the rest of your life, Never make a pretty woman your wife, So from my personal point of view, Get an ugly girl to marry you. A pretty woman makes her husband look small And very often causes his downfall. As soon as he marries her Then she starts to do The things that will break his heart. But if you make an ugly woman your wife, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107677241204055488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107677241204055488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107677241204055488' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107677153859391738</id><published>2004-02-14T14:40:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-02-14T15:14:49.856Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>No. 2 brought the boy boy home today, so I smiled the smile. And shook the handshake. (And asked the name, which I cannot for the life of me recollect now). It must not have come out right, because no. 2 did her usual sniggering. Then again, no. 2 sniggered everytime the rest of us tried to sneak unobstrusively into the room to steal glances at him. Except pa. Her behaviour the entire time made </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107677153859391738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107677153859391738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107677153859391738' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107669380669513600</id><published>2004-02-13T17:27:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-02-13T17:42:08.343Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I think the smugness I felt just reaffirmed how much your happiness means to me. It wasn't the ultimate expression of altruism but yeah, go, friend, go!Also here's to all friends (old, new, long-lost-and-found):Happy Valentine's Day. Have yourselves a good one. :)</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107669380669513600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107669380669513600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107669380669513600' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107661457658240540</id><published>2004-02-12T19:34:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-02-12T19:38:45.076Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>More on how you don't have to understand things/people to like them:No. 2: You know how some songs make you want to go to the toilet? You know? You know?Errr...no man, I don't know.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107661457658240540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107661457658240540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107661457658240540' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107661359471220764</id><published>2004-02-12T18:59:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-02-12T19:23:59.890Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Had toes licked by dog when shopping for hamster food. Realised that having toes licked is mighty enjoyable. By big tongue. Hmm.~~A ghost from the past came back to haunt, sometime ago. I would've been brave and confronted it, were it not hissing Pssts from under my window at 2.45am in the morning. Maybe.Dear friends, there are many ways to resolve unresolved issues; Be sure not to choose </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107661359471220764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107661359471220764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107661359471220764' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107652613491021291</id><published>2004-02-11T17:56:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-02-11T19:18:12.873Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I think it's funny how some people exchange name cards and some exchange blog addresses. But then, I think a lot of things are funny.To the fine company whom I watched "Lost in Translation" with, here are Howie's photos. I didn't put it up as a permanent link because he doesn't update it. Update it, Howie.I've been watching lots of Lost-and-Found movies lately, of which "Lost in Translation" </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107652613491021291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107652613491021291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107652613491021291' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107641080540642707</id><published>2004-02-10T09:43:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-02-10T11:02:31.263Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Wow. Sourbob is back.~~Boy: Teacher, teacher, the Titanic hit a ice cube right?Me: Well, technically we call it an ice berg.Boy: Is ice berg bigger than ice cube?Me: Yeah, a little bit. Yeah.~~I actually quite enjoyed a EEE concert at NTU recently; That Sun Yanzi was the last act didn't hurt either. The best, however, had to have been the opening act:Lights dimmed. Audience quietened</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107641080540642707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107641080540642707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107641080540642707' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107626921571465021</id><published>2004-02-08T15:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-02-08T19:46:15.483Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>On the 7th of Feb two people said I was crazy. Well they didn't say it, exactly. One smsed it and the other wrote it in her blog. Thing is, I uh, actually found that hm, heart-warmingishly slightly flattering.~~I haven't enjoyed the company of people I hardly knew as much as on 7th Feb (when I was called crazy). It was so damn easy to like them that I wonder if I really do hate people in </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107626921571465021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107626921571465021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107626921571465021' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107574512536130801</id><published>2004-02-02T14:36:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-02-02T18:14:50.623Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>No. 3: You should refrain from stro- er, smoking in front of children.I thought it was funny.~~No. 2 has a boy-boy now, and he still as yet remains to me a faceless, nameless entity. One fine day in Beijing she marched up to me and no. 3 and reported, rather dutifully i thought, "I have a boyfriend."I was torn between feeling, "I hope she's happy" and thinking that I wanted to go get this</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107574512536130801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107574512536130801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107574512536130801' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107559339518014027</id><published>2004-01-31T23:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-01-31T23:58:48.530Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Back for a bitPictures first.&lt;= Pictures</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107559339518014027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107559339518014027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107559339518014027' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-107107257212155843</id><published>2003-12-10T15:35:00.000Z</published><updated>2003-12-10T16:13:13.373Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>QuickieI am going to Beijing in about seven hours. I am going to freeze to death (-7 to 1 degrees celcius). I've been busy being that leopard with that spotty problem yada yada. And busy having a serious computer crisis, again. And busy being sick, again. And busy watching the entire "Yi tian tu long ji" series (HK 1986 version with Tony Leung), again. In three days. Because there are limited </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107107257212155843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/107107257212155843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107107257212155843' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106434088017701882</id><published>2003-09-23T18:24:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-09-23T19:21:59.416+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I lost the bet. That Wensi lookalike didn't win.I think no. 2 wants to adopt Louise Chng or something. You know that girl who should have been "the brainiest" instead of that math-choosing, comics-reading boy. Come on lah, how can "The adventures of Tintin" count as a specialist subject?Stupid gep kid. Hehe.Louise Chng (on tv): *smiles*No. 2: *squeals*LC: *answers damn difficult qn on </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106434088017701882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106434088017701882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106434088017701882' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106295524515239352</id><published>2003-09-07T18:20:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-09-07T18:20:45.116+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>So you meet and have dinner. And talk. and walk around and talk. then go to coffee place and talk. then bookshop, then fast food place. and talk talk talk. and before you know it it's been 7 hours. that's almost a third of a day.you listened, though it should've been the other way.how many? not many. i'm damn undeservedly lucky.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106295524515239352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106295524515239352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106295524515239352' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106270387897645454</id><published>2003-09-04T20:31:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-09-04T20:36:19.296+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>No. 2 brought me shopping today. It goes like this usually:1) No. 2 points at article of clothing2) I go try it on3) If no. 2 nods, go to step 4), else go to step 5)4) Buy it. Go to step 6)5) Put it back6) If no. 2 = tired then go to step 7) else go to next shop and repeat steps 1) to 6)7) Go homeMilestone of my life - no. 2 made me buy a bikini for Bintan. I'm still contemplating what </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106270387897645454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106270387897645454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106270387897645454' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106251512579214193</id><published>2003-09-02T16:05:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-09-02T16:05:25.786+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>PeopleMe: Ok, let's take a break and have a little chat. Tell me about your hobbies.Boy: I like to play computer games, xbox games, ps games, gameboy...Me: Ok ok. What about some outdoor hobbies?Boy: Outdoor hobbies? ... Play tricks on other people.Boy: Teacher you know what's my greatest wish?Me: Dunno, what?Boy: Spend one day on each of the planets in the whole world.Me: Oh then you </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106251512579214193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106251512579214193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106251512579214193' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106235495847032216</id><published>2003-08-31T19:35:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-31T19:37:46.710+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Everything's genetic, of course, even bo-liaoness. The family was trying to get to the car, only the path to it was fraught with obstacles like bushes and a railing AND a level (up). Several options - there's always the "find the proper entrance to the multi-storey carpark" one or:Pa: We can always climb over.Ma: No no. We should swing over.Pa: But we just ate....Ma: Blah blah.Me: Your </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106235495847032216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106235495847032216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106235495847032216' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106226368196245335</id><published>2003-08-30T18:14:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-30T18:14:41.963+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Singapore's brainiest kidsOr kid. Can't remember which. We're betting on the winner. No. 2 has her money on this girl called Louise or Lorraine or something like that, because she looks cute. I've got mine on a girl called Joween because I misheard it as Jolene and because she looks a little like Wensi.No. 3: Are boys smarter?Because the boys had higher scores generally compared to the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106226368196245335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106226368196245335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106226368196245335' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106218013305687990</id><published>2003-08-29T19:02:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-29T19:03:02.166+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>WOMAD at fort canning was better than expected. It's something I can grow to like, I think. However, think a lot of damage has been done to ears.Got sunburnt because am very extremely stupid. Comments people made:A: You don't look red, just pink. Just like you have make-up on.Me: Why would I put make-up on my forehead?A: Maybe you're just bad at putting on make-up what.B: You look flushed</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106218013305687990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106218013305687990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106218013305687990' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106189883978064111</id><published>2003-08-26T12:53:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-26T12:53:59.640+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Day started nice and warm and sunshiney, which made it look like one of those perfect days to swim, so that's what I decided to do. The moment I stepped out of the house and onto the concrete pavement - and I didn't imagine this - it turned thunder-cloudy. Very funny haha. Or maybe not. So I got on the mrt and started a sunshine chase - try and observe where the clouds are going and go in the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106189883978064111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106189883978064111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106189883978064111' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106175226520932724</id><published>2003-08-24T20:11:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-24T21:25:17.180+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Swimming on a Sunday evening in a public swimming pool is a huge joke, post-SARS. It's more like navigating through an obstacle course (1 obstacle per 1 metre) - dodge that kid's powerful strokes, do a sharp right turn to avoid that one's kicks, change style mid-way from breaststroke to freestyle in order to squeeze between those two, change back again... I almost wished they'd installed traffic </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106175226520932724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106175226520932724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106175226520932724' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106158271366291505</id><published>2003-08-22T21:05:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-22T21:07:07.363+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A scene from "Duets", as I remember it:(YH taxi-driver = Young and handsome taxi-driver)YH taxi-driver: I know you. You're Ms XXX, my third grade teacher.Passenger: Yeah yeah, and you're XXX. Just as I'd expected, you turned out to be the biggest under-achiever I'd taught.YH taxi-driver: *indignant* I'm not an under-achiever. I'm just trying to achieve something different from most other </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106158271366291505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106158271366291505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106158271366291505' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106131884390627618</id><published>2003-08-19T19:47:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-19T20:27:43.773+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ATTENTION!I know I'm supposed to be writing about something else. Something like science vs religion, BUT! This is far more important.You see, dear all, my dream holiday to Bintan is about to become reality! IF it goes off without a hitch this time.Why does this concern you, you ask. Because, you see, we are three short of one.And I've been tasked with finding the elusive fourth member by</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106131884390627618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106131884390627618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106131884390627618' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106105599392006798</id><published>2003-08-16T18:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-16T18:47:55.476+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>There is only one word to describe the weather nowadays: SIAO!May also rain July also rain August also rain. Where is my sun? Sweet glorious sun. Shine dammit. Tomorrow. I command it.And on the other side Frenchmen killed by heatwave. Siao.~~Speaking of the sun, some more misheard lyrics:"I am the sun, I am the air......I am heaven and I need to be loved"should actually be:"I am </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106105599392006798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106105599392006798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106105599392006798' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106105309484278682</id><published>2003-08-16T17:58:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-16T17:58:14.620+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A day quite unlike any, to see how that boy, whose path I briefly crossed more than a decade ago, has turned out. Different maybe because everyone is different.Seemed five minutes was all it took to recount my life story. So that's all, huh? That's all I ever did. That's all there is to me. Not very good. Think it was the first time I did that though - no-one else had ever asked - I guess it </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106105309484278682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106105309484278682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106105309484278682' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106080974832374039</id><published>2003-08-13T22:22:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-13T22:52:39.496+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>One the comfort of reason but nagging absence of finality, the other a safe cocoon of I-don't-want-to-know-I-don't-care-to-know-this-is-right-and-I'm-happy. Neither very appealing, but if forced to choose...are there only two? I should come up with my own religion.SHRUGGISMFaithful Follower: Oh most enlightened, most gracious, most intelligent One, what is the meaning of life?Highest </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106080974832374039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106080974832374039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106080974832374039' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106080964506022757</id><published>2003-08-13T22:20:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-13T22:27:47.966+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Third finger says:Science is all about questions, and not wanting to be wrong.Religion is all about answers, and thinking to be right.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106080964506022757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106080964506022757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106080964506022757' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106068831647506955</id><published>2003-08-12T12:38:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-12T20:45:17.010+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Dreamt was stalked by Tay Ping Hui. In quite a horrific manner. Think windows everywhere and his psycho-smiling face popping up at random. Not exactly a nightmare though, cos it did end with me punching the life out of him. That is, when I woke I realised he was much smaller in the dream than he really is.Must have to do with that mediacorp show, "Happy Family" or something where TPH was a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106068831647506955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106068831647506955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106068831647506955' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106053150968388065</id><published>2003-08-10T17:05:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-10T20:27:32.363+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Saturday the family decided to be patriotic (I was the most patriotic of all - I wore red. I don't even wear red during CNY) and get in on with all that celebrating. We did this by:1) Having a Dim Sum dinner at this hawker centre near Kallang/Lavender while watching part of the parade on tv. No. 2 went "Sun Yanzi! Sun Yanzi!" and tried to get the whole hawker centre to sing, to no avail:No. 2</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106053150968388065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106053150968388065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106053150968388065' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106036244124761331</id><published>2003-08-08T18:07:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-08T19:12:36.220+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Happy birthday to us. Happy birthday to us.~~No. 2 has asked me to bring her to watch "Forbidden City", "Wedding Banquet", and "Mardi Gras". Goodah? Got older (damn free with busy friends) sibling goodah? Not cheap you know. At least she's not, well, dunno how to say. I mean, she wants to watch "Mardi Gras". I'm quite, like, "That's my sis!"No. 2: Bring me watch Mardi Grass. Got Kumar!Me: </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106036244124761331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106036244124761331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106036244124761331' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106028487653838573</id><published>2003-08-07T20:34:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-07T20:34:36.430+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Your Brain Usage Profile Auditory : 56%Visual : 43%Left : 47%Right : 52%www.mindmedia.com/brainworks/profilerThe numbers don't add up to 100% leh.~~http://www.politicalcompass.orgAll I can say is, this is the damn most difficult quiz I've ever taken. Every question's like a topic for a ten-page (double-sided, single-lined) essay. "libertarian orthodoxy (neo-liberalism)", "classical</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106028487653838573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106028487653838573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106028487653838573' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106019411374659714</id><published>2003-08-06T19:21:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-06T19:27:24.896+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>No. 3 tried to have a conversation with herself, on the cranky old typewriter that I still keep:"i am 11 years old this year i like pe and art best i like to swim also lalalalalal i have two sisters i am the smallest among them. so i get more advantages  ,he he he he..... i still haven know your name? wad;s yor? nobody:my nmame is nody nice to meet yoo..... mce  meet yoo too </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106019411374659714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106019411374659714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106019411374659714' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-106004203872696711</id><published>2003-08-05T01:07:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-05T01:07:18.703+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Something I learnt today: Hugo = Yu2 Guo3 (rain fruit)Something that suddenly came to mind: Yi Er San Si Wu, Shang Shan Da Lao Hu, Lao Hu Da Bu Dao, something something something Pi GuJust felt like being Chinesey.~~One of my pet peeves: Swear words deformed to not look like swear words. What's the point of "shite"ing or "fcuk"ing or "biatch"ing I'll never know.~~Things to do before I</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106004203872696711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/106004203872696711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106004203872696711' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-105993790223558659</id><published>2003-08-03T20:11:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-03T20:20:15.643+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm not sure just how strange this sounds, but why am I not at a proper job/committing all my free time to finding one? Why why why? Why? Because, I'm afraid it'll just be my escape from life, the job.There may be those of you who remember this "What is the meaning of life" phase I went through in school. Actually, to term it a phase is to be wholly inaccurate, for, I am still looking for that </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/105993790223558659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/105993790223558659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#105993790223558659' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3813423.post-105985180931806344</id><published>2003-08-02T20:16:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2003-08-03T17:45:11.990+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>How many different sorts of liquids can you stuff into your stomach without puking? Lots, it seems. Two bowls ginseng chicken soup + two bowls red bean paste + 2 cups java coffee + 1 glass red wine + 1 glass champagne/sparkling wine + many glasses water + many many cups of chinese tea. Good thing too, or the yummy 8-course meal at Fullerton would have gone to waste. Numerous trips to toilet a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/105985180931806344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3813423/posts/default/105985180931806344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thethirdfinger.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#105985180931806344' title=''/><author><name>Yan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11915541449387069240</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
