Boys and their toys

Question: Why do grown males never quit playing with their toys?
I'm not talking about their joystick here. (Oh heaven forbid that they'll stop playing with that lest they shrivel up and die)

Is it because it brings back good memories?
Is it because it inspires them in their work?
Is it because it helps them to unwind after work?
Is it because they don't have anything better to do?
Is it because they DON'T WANT TO GROW UP?

I've never seen a grown woman play with her Barbie doll or Cabbage kids. The most that they would do is rearrange them (if they still had them) and protect it from dust collecting.

So...Why do GROWN men still want to play with their toys? I'm stumped.

Women around the world are complaining that they have to compete with their grown man's toys for attention. I do understand that everyone needs their own personal time and space, but what if there's too little time and not enough space?

So the second question here is: Why don't some grown men know when to stop playing with their toys?

I guess everyone has their own timing. Unfortunately when it comes to playing with toys, the timing is never right.

Why? Because the other person would think that there's much more important things that should be done. Like mowing the lawn or fixing the sink.

Woman and man seem to speak the same language. But when language escapes from the oral cavities, through the atmosphere medium and into the cavum concha...something changes.

I guess that's why we're in love with these creatures. They irritate the h*ll out of us but they are so cute and cuddly. When they're not playing with their toys, they're protective, loving and deep when they want to be.

You can't live with them, you can't live without them. Oh well.

Ce la vie.


*Note: This blog entry does not in anyway portray real subjects. It's just an hypothetical theory and a collection of laments from "more-than-happy" volunteering female participants. So please stop harrasing The Husband! ;)

In-Between

I'm at the stage where I'm in-between of everything.

You know when girls whom developed boobs at the age of eleven instead of thirteen and the rest of their female classmates had only a case of the speedbumps?

In-between

You know when you feel like you're going to sneeze but nothing happens?

In-between

You know when you just learned how to read, but every now and then you would have to ask for help to finish the sentence?

In-between

So yeah...I am at an in-between stage of my life. It's kinda frustrating. I used to be self-sufficient, confident that I knew the roads and the ways of life. But, in the end...I know nothing.

So in-between of knowing something to knowing nothing...I'm learning how to smile through it all.

Catching up with old friends

I met up with 3 high school friends that I haven't seen for at least 7 years! We had a blast reminiscing about who did what and where is who now.

These friends of mine are not particularly close friends, but we were in the same class for a couple of years. Allen is still the same good 'ol Allen. The added new feature in his character is that he's more open and sociable. Kelvin is still the same annoying class clown Kelvin. But L.C has changed. She has a seductive attitude about her that I find interesting as she was the goody-too-shoes-girl in class. Kelvin and L.C are now together (in more ways than one *shiver*).

It's really mind boggling to know that they hooked up a year and a half ago. They used to hate, annoy each other and would literally spit at each other if someone went too far in their teasing.

So...is love blind? Or can love be pursuit by persistance?

Can one just mentally/manually change their attitude to love someone? Or does the initial hate in each other bring out the best of their characters?

Interesting. *scratching head*

An Online...

...diary can cause a stir between two married bloggers.

The dearest husband and I had a row about something insignificant the other day (I won, ofcourse!*wink* *wink*). We then started to threaten to write about it in our blog.

It's kinda scary to know that one has the power to let the world wide web know about what goes on inside the four walls. Unfortunately, this has become an entertainment factor in today's t.v shows. Entertaining, but really sad to know that human beings are innately conniving and just plain evil.

Hmmm...is that a fair statement? Well, judging from reality shows like The Bachelor (I've only caught glimpses of it, I swear!), Simple Life (I've watched only ONE episode, I promise!), and Survivor (Errr...I'll pass this one), one can obviously tell that the producers thrive on having contestants that have a flair in making controversy, slander and 'evilness' a highlight of their show. Ofcourse some producers do double-takes to make sure that this characteristic shines through to increase viewership. (Trust me, I've done an academic paper on this!Opps!)

So coming back to the insignificant row I had with the dearest blogger husband, I guess it's important to note that bloggers should not sabotage or talk bad about their loved ones online. This would reflect badly on the author as well as their upbringing.

Therefore, I shall not disclose how I won the argument I had with the husband *wink *wink*.

A blog is...

...An online diary. Now, I have been keeping a hardcopy/paper diary from the age of twelve. Since then, I've gone through 3 books and about 1500 pages (or more) from front to back. I still have them buried somewhere. And there's a reason why they're buried!

I was flipping through all of my 'hardcopy memory books' one day and I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my chest. As I turned each page, the pain became sharper and more unbearable. As I finished reading...I was already on the floor gasping for air. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I was suffering from an acute embarassment attack. (Am still getting the shivers thinking about it).

I was so shocked at my ignorance (a politically correct word for 'dumb*ss') that I practically used a staple gun and stapled my diary shut so that those whom trespass shall have a hard time opening the book (and so that I know when to take revenge if I find that there new staples in the book, or if the new staples don't match the holes of the old staples)

So then, I asked myself, why am I letting the rest of the world suffer with me (or laugh at me) by setting up this online diary? I guess I'm still learning my lesson. :P

What is a blog?

The world "blog" is actually a shortened form of "Weblog Usage"
According to www.dictionary.com, the word "blog" means "an online diary; a personal chronological log of thoughts published on a Web page; also called Weblog, Web log". (Bored yet?)

For example: "Typically updated daily, blogs often reflect the personality of the author." (How 'bout now?)

SO... here I am, starting out as a baby blogger trying to "reflect my personality" to the rest of the world wide web. How do I start? Where should I start? Why would I want to start this online journal anyways?

Ahhh...I guess that's how it all began.

I've been over the seas for a couple of years. Since then, I've lost touch with a couple of old friends. E-Mail is great and all, but being a microwave generation, it still takes too long to write and update one person.

I could do the mass mailing thing, but I'm not a fan of that. Too impersonal to the names that are on the CC list. Plus, the receiver might not give a d*mn about why I'm allergic to the cold and how I used the hairdryer to scratch my itch.

So now that I'm back home in Malaysia, I've still have not caught up with all of my friends. Not because I've been lazing around on my ass all day (well not really), but because I've moved to another state. Phone numbers have changed, E-Mail addresses have been abandoned, and gas prices has shot up.

Conclusion...if you can't beat them...blog with them.

So here I am. I've filled out the blog entry forms, cracked my head on the name that is going to reflect the author of the blog, and finally ... I've been initiated into the blogging world with a password to ENTER...ENTEr...ENTer...ENter...Enter...(err...that was a lame attempt to interpret the sound of an echo).

Time to catch up then.