<?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-13186701</id><updated>2011-04-21T19:08:25.899-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Curiouser and curiouser...</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>27</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-197358521986832011</id><published>2008-09-01T01:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T01:24:14.170-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The One With The Excuses</title><content type='html'>I've neglected to update this blog. One reason is that I haven't had time (being swamped with work) and the other reason is that I haven't really had crazy dreams to post about. Okay, maybe there are a few but I couldn't find the time. And it's not only because of work. I've renewed my World of Warcraft account since I finally convinced the boyfriend to play the game with me. So mostly, I've been playing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I want to keep posting about my dreams. Hopefully, I will have a strange dream in the next few days that I can blog about. Until then...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-197358521986832011?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/197358521986832011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=197358521986832011' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/197358521986832011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/197358521986832011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2008/09/one-with-guild.html' title='The One With The Excuses'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-5968554144250827938</id><published>2007-06-13T22:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-13T22:39:30.316-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The One with the Tattoo on the Eye</title><content type='html'>I didn't write about this dream right away so now that I'm trying to remember, the details are kinda fuzzy. Anyway, in my dream I was having lunch with my boyfriend's sisters. We were dining al fresco, something like the M Cafe in Ayala. I don't remember what the conversation was about or why we were even there in the first place but apparently, it was an all girl lunch. So all 3 sisters, their mom &amp; I were there. The topic went to tattoos and Mago proudly shows off her new tat. She just got married and as a commemoration of sorts, she got an image of chains tattooed on her chest, exactly where her heart is found. It was strange of course, considering she just got married and it seemed like she was already saying she felt like she was all chained up. When asked about this, Mago explains that it's actually the opposite. That she's really happy to be married to her man and that the chain represents the unbreakable bond between their hearts. Or something like that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we all just nod and give weak smiles. I felt like sharing in the conversation and showed them my Ankh tattoo (which I really have in real life). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The conversation continues and we start discussing Mago's plans to get into the restaurant business. She wanted it in RCBC in Makati and we were currently debating the merits of having the most expensive China in her store. Actually, it wasn't really a restaurant but more of a catering service, but without the food. So they provide manpower - trained waiters, butlers, wine guy holders and the best chefs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Mago confesses that she already made preparations for the business and shows us the tattoo she got on her eyelid. It's supposed to bring good luck. The last thing I remember is how I felt a little bad that she got the tattoo on her eyelid, since she has really nice skin and the tat was an awfully big distraction.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-5968554144250827938?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/5968554144250827938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=5968554144250827938' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/5968554144250827938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/5968554144250827938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2007/06/one-with-tattoo-on-eye.html' title='The One with the Tattoo on the Eye'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-8570364554463941864</id><published>2007-05-11T04:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T04:08:03.212-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The One with the Violent Norebang</title><content type='html'>I dreamt that I went to this Norebang joint (that's Korean karaoke room for the uninitiated). I don't remember though if I was with anybody else. It felt like a decent place, it kind of reminded me of IO and Red Box. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting at the lobby when a group of Koreans enter. I am then told by the receptionist that the next vacant room will be given to me. This angers the Koreans who are deathly intent on singing their little hearts out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So they start making a scene, like crazy monkeys jumping on the couch. I run out to try and save my hide and find myself up the rooftop. And just like some freak occurrence, it starts raining really hard. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I soon realize that I was in a prime spot as I see a massive wall of water approaching. In a few minutes, the tsunami washes out the whole area, including the angry Koreans.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-8570364554463941864?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/8570364554463941864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=8570364554463941864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/8570364554463941864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/8570364554463941864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2007/05/one-with-violent-norebang.html' title='The One with the Violent Norebang'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-8650559842191469312</id><published>2007-04-03T19:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T21:12:28.048-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The One with the Lunch Gun Fight</title><content type='html'>Once again, my dream is set in my high school. We were walking by the chapel ramp and see a group pf people in fatigues in the middle of the grounds. I couldn't really tell if they were students, I didn't even get a feeling whether they were supposed to be there or not. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, they start shooting at us. I was with some other people, I couldn't really tell who they were but it felt like they were students as well and more importantly, that they were on my side. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the shoot out begins and because the people in fatigues caught us off guard, they manage to disarm us. Bleeding and crawling towards my gun (at the same time ducking for cover), another student runs to our rescue. I ask her to start shooting at the "enemies"  to distract them so that I can get my gun. She starts shooting at them dn distracts them, I get my gun and start successfully kill everyone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the shootout (I think I saw us in our blood-stained uniforms), a bunch of other students flock to the middle and start dragging the dead bodies to the side. The atmosphere was very surreal, it was just like they were being asked to put decorations in the school gym- casual, very routine and very non-chalant about the whole thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, the shoot-out was part of the Citizen's Army Training that seniors have to go through and because I killed everyone, I was in the running to take top honors.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-8650559842191469312?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/8650559842191469312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=8650559842191469312' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/8650559842191469312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/8650559842191469312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2007/04/one-with-lunch-gun-fight.html' title='The One with the Lunch Gun Fight'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-6018175399348472837</id><published>2007-01-16T18:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-16T18:40:37.244-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The one with the CCP theater in New Manila</title><content type='html'>I dreamt that I was dressing up and getting ready to leave the house. My boyfriend Miguel and his mom were on their way to pick me up so that we could go to CCP to watch a play. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we get in the car, I remember I was in a bad mood and Miguel was talking to me about something random. I was being really moody about and I think gave Migs the evil eye when he tried to pacify me by saying something sweet in baby talk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, the mom saw me get infuriated with the gesture and got mad at me. So, there I was sitting in the car, being scolded by my boyfriend's mom. She was going on about how there are scientific studies about baby talk and that people who don't baby talk or at least appreciate baby talk are people who are hardened and&lt;br /&gt;emotionally unbalanced since these people are supposed to have so many unresolved issues. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try to reason out and say that my mom refused to baby talk to us as kids, believing that at some point, we ought to be treated as adults and that all that gibberish talk wouldn't really help in the development. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, she still kept scolding me and insisting that I had issues until we reached CCP, which turned out to be a 5 minute ride from my house since CCP was in Hemady now, near New Manila.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we were making our way inside the theater, she still kept probing me about my issues until I finally cried and told her my family problems. I ended up telling her about (real life) family problems and just as she was starting to understand me and feel this special bond with me, the house lights dim and the show starts. Last thing I remember was that it wasn't really a play, but more like a fashion show of "jungle" clothing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-6018175399348472837?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/6018175399348472837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=6018175399348472837' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/6018175399348472837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/6018175399348472837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2007/01/one-with-ccp-theater-in-new-manila.html' title='The one with the CCP theater in New Manila'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-6440211453872316543</id><published>2006-11-26T05:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-26T05:17:15.389-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The one with the ship</title><content type='html'>I was travelling by ship to some place. I remember making a phone call to my boyfriend sometime in the evening. I was talking to him and complaining about how the trip was just taking too long. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pass the phone to his 2 nephews who were on the same trip as I. The little boys were also complaining about how there was nothing else to do but to talk to people on the ship, eat and sleep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, in a effort to save money, we took the ship to get to some province (like Cagayan de Oro) and it would take us about 3 months to get there from Manila.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-6440211453872316543?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/6440211453872316543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=6440211453872316543' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/6440211453872316543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/6440211453872316543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2006/11/one-with-ship.html' title='The one with the ship'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-5903846257403026836</id><published>2006-11-08T06:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-16T18:46:11.203-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The one with the roof deck bathtub</title><content type='html'>I dreamt that Jessie, Miguel's brother, went to visit our house. Since he was already there, we invited him to dinner. He started criticizing our family (out loud), how we eat corned beef for dinner and how my dad was such a gross eater (since he eats rice with mayo, which he really does in real life). So my dad was a little pissed but thought he'd try to impress Jessie just the same. So he attempts to impress Jessie's socks off by bragging that he can buy Coca-Cola from my yaya, since she has a tiny store inside her room. But since we were short on Coke, my yaya decides to mix the soda with C2 Iced Tea. And then I don't know how it happened, but a slab of meat falls on my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then all of a sudden, I'm in an abandoned building with some other person. It reminds me of the control room in Lost, the TV series. There were a million switches that I had to work on, otherwise the zombies will eat us. They were in the same room already. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the scene switches and I'm going up the stairs to visit Miguel but find an old couple instead. So I go all the way to the rooftop and find their relative Chit (of Figaro) inside a bathtub, ON THE ROOF DECK. While she was in the bathtub, she was telling me about the death of Rene, the man who lives inside the mirror and about his new replacement. I don't remember though if she was wearing any clothes while in the bathtub cos I remember there was no water. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She tells me that I can still catch up with Migs if I go to the lobby. Apparently, she had a feeling I would be here looking for Miguel so she told him to run around in circles downstairs so that I could catch up with him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wake up just before the elevator opens.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-5903846257403026836?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/5903846257403026836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=5903846257403026836' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/5903846257403026836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/5903846257403026836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2006/11/one-with-roof-deck-bathtub.html' title='The one with the roof deck bathtub'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-116222186508815032</id><published>2006-10-30T11:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:12:51.949-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The One with Christopher Lambert</title><content type='html'>I was at some night bazaar with SJ, one of Mig's friends. In real life, I see him about once a week when the gang heads over to SJ's &amp; Chicco's shop in Katipunan to play and have one of our regular DoTA all-nighters.&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;So in my dream, we were at some night bazaar and I was pulling a trolley. Sometime after, SJ and I had a few drinks and got really drunk. We head back to our place to call it a night. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;While walking (more like wobbling) along the corridor of a place that looked like a beat-up hotel, I noticed that we were being followed. I turn around and see a menacing figure behind us. It was Christopher Lambert (see photo below) in Mortal Kombat style, with a long white robe and matching long white hair. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/180px-Christopher_Lambert_Mortal_Ko.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/180px-Christopher_Lambert_Mortal_Ko.png" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But his face was really white and his features really defined with the black shadows. It kinda reminded me of a creepy version of Kiss. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I knew he was a bad guy and I was actually a little scared for SJ and I. But putting up a brave front I said, "Oooh, you're following us. I bet you're gonna try and take advantage of us since we're both drunk."  Deep inside, I was a little scared cos I knew that he would kill and eat us both. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;He gave a slight smile and continued to follow us to the room. It actually seemed like he was floating since his feet weren't touching the ground and his white robe was barely grazing the floor. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I guess the fear made me a little sober so I grabbed SJ and ran to the room. As I shut the door, I felt Christopher Lambert pushing his way in. It went on for a few minutes, this pushing against the door. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I gave in and opened the door and saw that he turned into a magazine. I pick it up &amp; crumple it, throw it out the room and shut the door. He turned into human form again and continued to push the door. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;At this point, I was yelling at SJ to help me. We were both in towels and he wasn't being very helpful so  I was yelling at him to get up and help me out. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I open the door and Christopher is a magazine again. I pick it up and this time, I get some shards of glass and crush them buy trying to crumple the magazine. And then I throw the whole thing out the window. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I turn to SJ and yell at him, this time telling him to get dressed so that we could make a run for it. I look out the window to check on Christopher and I see that he turned into a little girl and she was looking up the window. &lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-116222186508815032?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/116222186508815032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=116222186508815032' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/116222186508815032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/116222186508815032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2006/10/one-with-christopher-lambert.html' title='The One with Christopher Lambert'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-115915819138491512</id><published>2006-09-24T21:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:12:51.808-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The One with the Needle</title><content type='html'>I was in high school again. I mean the school, was the setting for my dream. I was at the second floor getting some sort of vaccine shot. There was no epidemic of any kind but a couple of people were being asked to get shots. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I sat at one of the desks and waited to the lady to approach me. I don't remember what she was wearing but I know that she wasn't wearing a nurse uniform. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;She takes out the injection and proceeds to press the needle in my arm, right at the fleshy part where the elbow joint is. I don't remember feeling any pain but when I stood up, I felt my arm throbbing. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I had to keep my arm in position, the same "L" position you get your arm in if you were to get a cast. I still felt it throbbing and realized that it was because the lady left the needle in my arm. I didn't panic because it was supposed to be normal, and that the needle was really supposed to be lodged there. She tells me that I should drink 6 glasses of water before I take the needle out. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;So, I decide to walk around the campus, at the same time nursing my throbbing arm. You know that feeling when you fall asleep on your arm and all the blood has been cut off? That's how it felt. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Anyway, as I was walking around and gulping down water, I noticed that lunch time was over and that people were starting to line up to go back to the classrooms. I passed the auditorium and saw 3 of my classmates there and they were asking me to come sit with them. I point to my arm and mouth that I couldn't join them, and then left to make my way to the school clinic. I passed all the lines and the line marshals who were trying to keep the students in place. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I enter the clinic and give the nurse my form. She asks if I drank 6 glasses of water, I nod. She stands up and asks me to wait while she gets ready to take the needle out. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I was left there sitting and I looked around to see a few students sitting around the receiving area. I thought to myself, I'm really supposed to be here to have this needle removed but I'd rather not be here. These kids are all here, pretending to be sick, just so they could miss class. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--- That was my dream last night. The annoying thing though is that my arm still hurts, as if it really happened.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-115915819138491512?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/115915819138491512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=115915819138491512' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/115915819138491512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/115915819138491512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2006/09/one-with-needle.html' title='The One with the Needle'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-115857311989661379</id><published>2006-09-18T02:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:12:51.716-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The One with the Preview Fiasco</title><content type='html'>DISCLAIMER: This is my dream journal so the entries are my actual dreams. None of these things happened in real life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the some random Preview party. But instead of it being a happy and a joyous thing, there was this whole chaotic vibe looming and just sucking the life out of everyone. I don't remember what it was exactly, but there was a whole mess with the latest Preview issue that angered a lot of (important) people. So, the party became a witch hunt of sorts. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Pauline (Preview EIC in real life) was there and trying her very best to stay calm, after all, it is her party. While the publishers (and whoever angry boss) were there explaining to the crowd what was to be done, Pauline was calm and poised, as if saying with her body language that she didn't do anything wrong, and that you cannot shake such a confident lady like her. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Anyway, what they planned to do was sort the whole thing out that night. Like bring out tapes of interviews, transcripts, receipts, transmittal slips and whatever else that could point them to the offending people. And then they (bosses and publishers) left the auditorium / theater (where the party was being held) to deliberate the facts presented before them. &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the sisters were there and they were asking if I was going to take their mom home. I replied, "No, I'm just with her since the car is waiting outside."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then Pauline asked me to take down some notes for her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The theme of the party was Victorian/ Baroque, or I think. I'm not really a fashionista so just think modern Marie Antoinette or trendy Anne Rice vampires (Interview with a Vampire movie) and Gwen Stefani in her "What You Waiting For?" music video.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-115857311989661379?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/115857311989661379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=115857311989661379' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/115857311989661379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/115857311989661379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2006/09/one-with-preview-fiasco.html' title='The One with the Preview Fiasco'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-115468150729547470</id><published>2006-08-04T01:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:12:51.594-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The one with the toy soldier</title><content type='html'>I wake up to find a surprise on my bed that my mom left for me. I open the package to find a toy soldier. It's like the Buckingham Palace type with the red top and the tall hat. Anyway, I place it on my window sill and find out that it's a mechanical soldier. I hear a "springing" sound and see that the soldier's penis is erect. My eyes grow big as I giggle. And then, he starts to pee all over the place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I wake up (in real life) and realize that I peed on my bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*THIS WAS A DREAM THAT I HAD WHEN I WAS ABOUT 7 YEARS OLD. JUST SO WE'RE CLEAR, I DON'T WET MY BED ANYMORE.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-115468150729547470?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/115468150729547470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=115468150729547470' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/115468150729547470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/115468150729547470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2006/08/one-with-toy-soldier.html' title='The one with the toy soldier'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-115276696076827829</id><published>2006-07-12T21:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:12:51.503-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The one with the vulture</title><content type='html'>I used to have this recurring dream. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When our house still wasn't renovated, we had a white leather couch next to the windows. If you look out, you can see the drive way and the gate connecting to my Lola's place. Since there are big windows, this is usually where we smoke (in real life.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my dream, it's about 4:30 in the afternoon. I'm kneeling on the couch and watching Bonsai (our first Shih Tzu who passed away this year after being with us for 12 years) as she is sniffing the ground. I don't know why but I was restless and afraid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I see this giant shadow cast over the dog and I look up to see a giant vulture about to swoop down. I yell at Bonsai &amp; tell her to get inside but there was nothing I could do. The vulture picks up my dog with its giant claws and zooms to the sky, until they were nothing but a small dot in the horizon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-115276696076827829?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/115276696076827829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=115276696076827829' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/115276696076827829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/115276696076827829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2006/07/one-with-vulture.html' title='The one with the vulture'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-115266401688042833</id><published>2006-07-11T17:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:12:51.405-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The one with the party at Harbor Square</title><content type='html'>I haven't dreamt in a while so I might miss out some details...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember talking to a fellow PodCentral member (PodCentral is an online forum abour iPods) and he mentioned that there was a basketball game where the playes will be PodCentral members, I told him I wanted to go but might have dinner with some of the other members at Harbor Sqaure in CCP. He then tells me that the game was in the area too, which was why the dinner at Harbor Square was set up in the first place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I ended up going to the party. I remember watching some DVDs in a room that looked like my parent's old room, before it was renovated. It wasn't even a DVD player I was tinkering with but an ancient betamax. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at the party with Migs but for some reason, there was tension between us, as if we were in a middle of a fight. Then these group of girls who looked lke cheap prostitutes entered the room to start the party. One was attempting to DJ while another was hosting, very poorly at that. Her English was broken and her pronunciation horrible. Next thing I know, Migs is outside talking to one of the hoes. I end up sitting in the couch talking to Sarah, (friend I made during my real life Philippine Idol audition) and making fun of the girls in an effort to make myself feel a little better. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw Migs talking to the hooker outside and I thought to myself, "Hey, 2 can play that game you know." Apparently, I was invited to the party by Ashton Kucther, who was flirting heavily with me. So I decided to flirt back. I saw him across the room, approached him and saw Demi Moore arrive. I said "hi" but there was no reaction so I just figured she didn't hear me. I went closer and said "hi" again, this time squeezing her arm lightly. Still, no reaction. Disappointed (and quite embarrassed cos Ashton was just there) I want to the bathroom instead. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While inside, I could overhear the conversation between Demi and Ashton. It went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;Ashton (to Demi); Hi.&lt;br /&gt;Demi: Hi, Are you mad at her? (pertaining to me)&lt;br /&gt;Ashton: No, why would you think that?&lt;br /&gt;Demi: I don't know, I thought you were mad at her so I ignored her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the bathroom, I was upset. Not because Demi was there and I could no longer flirt with Ashton but more because there was nothing else to do since Migs left me at the party for that hooker and I couldn't get back at him now, since there was no one to flirt with. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was looking at my reflection in the mirror and realized that my plaid-hanky hemmed skirt was inside out. Mortified, I tried to fix my skirt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, I just remember that I left the party, including Migs, and wondered how he would react knowing that I ditched him at the party.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-115266401688042833?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/115266401688042833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=115266401688042833' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/115266401688042833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/115266401688042833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2006/07/one-with-party-at-harbor-square.html' title='The one with the party at Harbor Square'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-114176090478881614</id><published>2006-03-07T11:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:12:51.346-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The One with the Flying Convoy</title><content type='html'>I find myself at the high school quadrangle (once again) and I listen to my friends Alyson (Hannigan) and James (Marsters) talk about how much they need to discuss certain matters. James was busy running around and had to catch a ferry to a remote island (it felt like it was the Genosha(?) island where the X-men mutants could be "cured")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Alyson sees that I am upset. When she asks, I tell her that it's because I need to seek therapy at the island but can't since I have to babysit. Alyson offers to take the kids from me and James tells me to hitch with him to the island. I think I asked if we can still catch the ferry and he says not to worry cos we are "flying" there anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next thing you know, James is up in the air and I'm supposed to follow him. I rush to pack my clothes but when I see him flying already, I dart to join him and end up leaving a trail of my clothes as I positioned myself next to him. I ask, "I don't have to bring clothes, right?" He shakes his head, looks at the trail of clothes I left behind and says "Tsk..tsk...you really have a lot of learning to do when it comes to being a superhero."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so we fly. Midway, we are joined by Ewan McGregor. He is dressed up as Obi Wan but he is not a Jedi but another superman (like James and I). We end up having a "flying convoy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I'm new at the whole flying thing, I find it hard to keep up. Next thing I know, I lose Ewan and James. I almost panic, until I see a huge 3D arrow blinking and pointing south. Apparently, we superheroes have signals to help us find our way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I follow the arrow and true enough, Ewan and James are there. They are standing in this Chinatown-esque alley closely watching another person transform into a superhero. This transition renders the hero vulnerable from the enemy so Ewan and James are keeping close watch. The enemy spots us though, they all look like Mr. Smith from the Matrix. Luckily, the metamorphosis finishes in time for all of us to fly to safety.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-114176090478881614?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/114176090478881614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=114176090478881614' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/114176090478881614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/114176090478881614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2006/03/one-with-flying-convoy.html' title='The One with the Flying Convoy'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-114057374955064895</id><published>2006-02-21T17:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:12:51.254-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The One with the Sacred Heart</title><content type='html'>It was the morning high school routine. At 7:15am (or was it earlier?) all the students assemble at the quadrangle for the national anthem, morning prayer, pledge to the country and then we sing the school hymn. We face the flag first, and then turn around to face the giant Sacred Heart statue infront of the convent. (see diagram below) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6741/233/1600/Untitled-1%20copy.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6741/233/320/Untitled-1%20copy.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we were saying our prayers, aliens and giant robots start attacking the school. Alien ships swoop from the sky and start beaming their laser guns at the students who by now are running like terrified little animals. I feel this urge to run to the Sacred Heart statue (see below, although I think the one at school had a blue robe)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6741/233/1600/MI9711_221.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6741/233/320/MI9711_221.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While looking at all the chaos, I position myself by the feet of the Sacred Heart statue. The foot opened and exposed a door that led me to the top of the statue. Apparently, Sacred Heart is a robot. So, I start controlling him and we kung-fu fight our way against the alien and robot beasties. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know who won the fight though cos I woke up at about this time. All I remember is that Sacred Heart was a kick-ass robot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-114057374955064895?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/114057374955064895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=114057374955064895' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/114057374955064895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/114057374955064895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2006/02/one-with-sacred-heart.html' title='The One with the Sacred Heart'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-114017119665881962</id><published>2006-02-17T02:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:12:51.193-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The one with the werewolf</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;(---This one is a classic. My sister says this has got to be my dumbest dream ever!---)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find myself in back of a military truck with other people but their faces are a blur. It's dark and we are being transported back to "camp." We pass another military truck and I see my grandfather with a bunch of other men, all of them dressed in suits. I realized that they were Mafia men and were on their way to murder some person. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we get to "camp", which happens to be my high school. I knew it was my high school, but the classrooms were converted to communal shower stations. Everyone else has left, and I was taking a late night dump. I hear a low growling sound but I try to ignore it. It gets louder and louder until I can't ignore it anymore. I discover that the growling sound is coming from this grizzly werewolf and I saw his saliva dripping from his mouth and glistening in the moonlight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I make my way out of the bathroom and start running like mad. I knew he was after me cos I could hear his snarling and heavy breathing. I started running towards the school's quadrangle and then went towards the open space near the chapel grounds. It was late in the afternoon (when I was in the shower, it was evening) and the grounds aren't empty anymore. There were actually some students having lunch and they were just watching me as I tried to desperately to run away from the werewolf. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize what the wolf wants. He doesn't want to eat *me*, he wants my soiled shorts. (Remember how I was taking a dump earlier?) So, it came down to 2 choices, either I (a) try to run away from him and risk being attacked to death, or (b) I take my panties off and throw it at him, die from embarrassment, but at least I live. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I felt the choice was glaringly obvious. I take off my panties and throw them at his face. He takes the clump into his hands and starts eating them like the mad animal that he is. So there I was, panty-less, running away from him as the students looked on. But at this point, I couldn't care less. I was free.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-114017119665881962?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/114017119665881962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=114017119665881962' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/114017119665881962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/114017119665881962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2006/02/one-with-werewolf.html' title='The one with the werewolf'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-113876278998288962</id><published>2006-01-31T18:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:12:51.134-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The One with the Giant Duck.</title><content type='html'>My mom passed away. We were all devastated as we made arrangements for her funeral services. It was the tradition that when someone dies, you're supposed to wear a vest and cap and start shooting flying ducks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I put on my flannel vest and the rest of the family join me as we start shooting at passing ducks. No one could shoot for shit so this whole shooting at nothing went on for a good few minutes. Of course, this was all going on with us still weeping and mourning over my mom's death. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then out of nowhere, this giant duck (that looked like a giant bulldog) appeared. I took aim, fired and hit it (since it was just too big to miss anyway)It fell to the ground and the whole family rushed to see it. When we turned it over, everyone let out a loud gasp. The giant duck had my dead mother's face. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was supposed to be the sign that my mom was really dead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-113876278998288962?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/113876278998288962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=113876278998288962' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/113876278998288962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/113876278998288962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2006/01/one-with-giant-duck_31.html' title='The One with the Giant Duck.'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-113826918711573994</id><published>2006-01-26T01:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:12:51.067-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The One with the Zombies and Burger Machine</title><content type='html'>I was inside a house scrambling to help others board up the rest of the house cos the zombies were on their way to attack us. I move upstairs and have a hard time locking the window. I start to panic since I can see a zombie climbing up the wall towards me. I scream for help and another person comes up to help me.&lt;br /&gt;I am horrified though to discover than in his haste to help me, he left the kitchen door wide open. I run and slam the door in the nick of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the zombies still find a way to enter the house through another opening and they start attacking and eating my companions. I run upstairs and try to find a way to defend myself. I don't know how I knew this but apparently, singing soothes the zombies and makes them fall asleep. When they wake up, they are not evil anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I sing a few verses of "Tattooed on my Mind" and the zombies in the house start falling asleep. One of my female companions tried to help and sang a couple of lines. Her voice was awful so the zombies ended up getting more violent than before. I sing a few more lines until they are finally pacified.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The house is peaceful as I was walking around. When I looked out the window, I noticed that a line of zombies were heading &lt;em&gt;away &lt;/em&gt;from the house. Through squinted eyes, I see that the entire area around us is flooded. There is a giant tsunami about to squish all of us to death. I wake up everyone (including the reformed zombies) and we all jump out of the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, we survive the wave and find an abandoned ship floating in the middle of the ocean. We climb through the stairs and have a mini-conference inside. Some evil zombies who survived the wave wanted to climb up and attack us but my reformed zombie friends told them to back off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, futuristic assassins start killing off the good zombies. In my anger, I killed every one of them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so my Zombie friends and I sailed away until the water turned into land. All of a sudden, our ship had wheels so they got gas and Migs and I decided to get a bite to eat at Burger Machine by getting a tricycle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just when we were about to get back to the ship, I see that everyone in the ship (both zombies and humans) turn evil and want to eat us. Luckily, Miguel and I manage to escape to the next city.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-113826918711573994?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/113826918711573994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=113826918711573994' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/113826918711573994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/113826918711573994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2006/01/one-with-zombies-and-burger-machine.html' title='The One with the Zombies and Burger Machine'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-113800878294228784</id><published>2006-01-22T22:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:12:50.944-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The one with the elevator cinema</title><content type='html'>--- This is my long overdue update, damn it. Enjoy, kids. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decide to play hooky cos I felt like I could afford to and almost deserved it anyway. So, Miguel and I decided to watch a movie. When we got the theater, instead of seeing the regular movie set up with screen and chairs, we had to watch the movie inside this giant elevator. During the intermission, the elevator would change floors. (Why it did that, I have no idea) At this time, people were being asked to come up on stage and sing. Miguel decides to sing but gets cut off when the movie screening resumes. So he throws a fit and was having major tantrum attacks infront of everyone saying stuff like "Why won't you let me sing? I'm not done with my song!!!! RAAAAAAAAWR!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Embarrassed, I end up leaving him and storming out of the "elevator theater." When I get out, I see 3 giant mascots doing this interpretative dance that made me think they were on some drug. I don't remember what else they were doing but all I remember is that one was a giant panda. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leaving the mascots behind, I walk towards the FX station and find this greasy little boy following me around. I was trying to lose him by running around the maze of stores in the palengke. Finally, I don't see him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take my seat in the FX and get the shock of my life when I see the greasy little boy sitting next to me. O__o&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-113800878294228784?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/113800878294228784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=113800878294228784' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/113800878294228784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/113800878294228784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2006/01/one-with-elevator-cinema.html' title='The one with the elevator cinema'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-111995897064274527</id><published>2005-07-14T17:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:12:50.887-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The one with Paris, the ghost.</title><content type='html'>My boyfriend and I were in the car and we see my ex in Greenhills (outside Unimart)&lt;br /&gt;Migs was being immature about the whole thing and parked his car infront of my ex who was hanging out with his friends.  I got mad so I stepped out of the car and tried to run away from Miguel.  There was this long chase scene around the tiangge. Migs was really being cruel.&lt;br /&gt;I ended up in a house haunted by the ghosts of Paris Hilton and Jaiddi (old bus mate from high school)  The way to ward them off is aerosol spray. I don't remember how I knew this, it just felt like it was common sense. So try it and it doesn't work and we were screaming until we were all laughing. We were inside my tito's room in my lola's house.&lt;br /&gt;We ended up chatting with the ghosts. There were shards of ice on the floor and Miguel asks what they where for. Paris gives Miguel an evil look and tries to show Migs how she kills people with them. I stop Paris and explain to her that Miguel is my boyfriend. Paris agrees not to hurt him as long as he leaves the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Miguel leaves, Paris sneaks up behind me and tries to make out with me. It seems like I'm under a trance. People had to pull me away from Paris because I was already under her spell. My companions begin exorcising the room and I remember leaning against the door and saying. "Are we really gonna kill Paris?" She looked kinda hot." And then her ghost appears next to me and says "Really? I thought you were hot too."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I wake up. Strange. O__ o&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-111995897064274527?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/111995897064274527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=111995897064274527' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/111995897064274527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/111995897064274527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2005/07/one-with-paris-ghost.html' title='The one with Paris, the ghost.'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-111935370553721198</id><published>2005-07-01T13:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:12:50.534-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The one with the ant cream.</title><content type='html'>I was excited to open my new cream. I face the mirror and start applying around my eyes. I put the lid back on and put it away on one of my random shelves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes after, I feel a stinging, burning sensation around my eyes. When I look in the mirror, I discover that I didn't put cream on my face but a bunch of red ants. The stinging, burning sensation I felt was a result of the ants eating through my flesh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(This is an old dream. I wanted to include this in my journal. It's not like I need to be reminded how strange my dreams are, though. Hahaha O_O )&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-111935370553721198?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/111935370553721198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=111935370553721198' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/111935370553721198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/111935370553721198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2005/07/one-with-ant-cream.html' title='The one with the ant cream.'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-111995724416893600</id><published>2005-06-28T03:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:12:50.647-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The one with Disneyland, QC</title><content type='html'>I dreamt that Mig's mom asked us to go to the newly opened Disneyland. No, it's not in Hong Kong but in Quezon City.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was in line with some cousins of  mine (who decided to tag along cos we were all being treated by his mom) when my  younger cousin, Anton, almost got run over by a car. I start scolding him and saying "You should be more careful! I saw how that car almost run you over. I haven't decided is I'll tell your mom about this incident but if you promise to behave, I won't tell her what happened."  My other cousin comes up to me and says, "Gosh Ate, you'er really strict. I don't think we want to go anymore." Hearing him say that drives me insane, of course. So I tell them that they are a bunch of ungrateful brats and that they were lucky that my boyfriend's mom agreed to treat take them along to Disneyland. (Nevermind that it's just in QC.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so upset about the whole thing that I stormed off and started making my way to the entrance where Migs' mom was waiting. She was getting impatient so by the time I got there, they were gone. I walk through the hallways and I see this giant lion mascot blocking the way. I observe how he tackles each person who goes through the hallway so I tell myself that ok, I have to find a way through him. As I was trying to get pass him, he tackles me and pushes me to the ground. I try to run away and bump into one of the park attendants. She tries to teach me the proper way to avoid the lion. I find her annoying and decide to ignore her. She gets mad at me and pinches my foot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, I manage to get out of Disneyland's main building (which looked like Hong Kong International airport) and see my cousins standing outside. Aya, the eldest among them, approaches me hesistantly and saya, "Ate Kathy, maybe if you just apologize to Anton, we'll take you back." I tell her "HELL, NO" and walk away from them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-111995724416893600?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/111995724416893600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=111995724416893600' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/111995724416893600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/111995724416893600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2005/06/one-with-disneyland-qc.html' title='The one with Disneyland, QC'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-111935458442859266</id><published>2005-06-21T19:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:12:50.590-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The one with the mom and the white mini skirt.</title><content type='html'>For some strange reason, Miguel's mom slept over my house. We stayed up making fruit bouquets and baking all sorts of stuff. What was weirder was that I was actually excited about the whole thing. We had long conversations the whole night and we both had a good time. It felt as if we've already known each other for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it was time for her to leave, I remember walking her to our gate and seeing her get in the car. Miguel was there and was happily smiling because I spent time with his mom. I remember being more sad that Tita had to leave than being happy that Miguel was there. I even called out to her and said, "Tita, next time teach me to knit ha!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After they left, I decided to go to the mall. I was walking around (the mall looked like Lougheed Mall in Canada) and I was wearing my new white mini skirt. After a few minutes, I go to the 2nd floor looking for a bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I start peeing. I am horrified to discover that the bottom half of my skirt is submerged in the toilet water (as a result of the way I was sitting/ squatting). I started crying and people outside my cubicle started to laugh and feel sorry for me at the same time. Some stranger even tried to make me feel better by telling me not to feel bad cos this kinda thing happens to a lot of people. So I decide to get up, take off my soaked skirt, and walk to the basin wearing my shirt and panties. I then try to squeeze the water out of my skirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---The whole thing with Miguel's mom is probably because she is our new movie buddy. We've seen 2 movies with her and we plan to see 2 more in the immediate future. And this probably stems from my sad wish to bond with her. Ahahahaha! About the skirt, I think it's because I just got a skirt and I want to wear it out soon.---&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-111935458442859266?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/111935458442859266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=111935458442859266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/111935458442859266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/111935458442859266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2005/06/one-with-mom-and-white-mini-skirt.html' title='The one with the mom and the white mini skirt.'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-111824204649496143</id><published>2005-06-08T22:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:12:50.418-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The one with Sadako's beach trip</title><content type='html'>It was night time and I was inside a beach house/ nipa hut with another person. I'm not sure but I think I was with my sister &lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/~kaiweasley"&gt;Kai.&lt;/a&gt; We were both quietly sobbing and too terrified to go near the door. We could hear the waves outside but we were paying more attention to the sound of foot steps. We were waiting for the shadow of feet shuffling to register at the bottom crack of the door. We were sooo scared. We knew we might die that night and it was mind-numbingly frightening. Finally, we hear someone slowly pounding on the door. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the door creaks open, my sister and I try to muffle wails and gasps. It was Sadako, her white, alabaster skin glistening. But this time, she was a hunchback. What was strange though was that instead of a hump, there was a tiny Sadako on her back. So she had two heads and they were both glaring and hissing at me and my sister through their long, greasy black hair. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my sister and I were trying to run away from her (or should I say, them) because we knew she wanted to kill us. Just like in the movie "Ringu", if she touches you, it'll leaves a mark. But this time, her touch is supposed to burn and sting you as well. So, my sister and I were desperately avoiding her. But she grabbed my arm and I screamed in pain. However, I quickly realized that the pain was actually bearable. This gave me and my sister a sudden sense of power. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next thing you know, we were chasing Sadako around the room and she was the one trying to avoid our touch. We discovered (I don't really know how) that Sadako is afraid of sea water. My sister and I grab her (one arm each) and drag her out of the house and towards the sea. Sadako is kicking and trying to get free but we are laughing at her. I yell out to the villagers and say "Hey, look everyone! Sadako is scared of the water! She will die! Hahahahaha!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So all the villagers gather around me and my sister as we successfully drag Sadako into the water. The sea sizzles as Sadako melts and screams, and eventually just dissolves into this white, waxy mound. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--- I think this dream was inspired by my boyfriend's new job. He is now part of the creative team of the show "Kampanerang Kuba". Strange, I tell ya. O___O&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-111824204649496143?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/111824204649496143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/111824204649496143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2005/06/one-with-sadakos-beach-trip.html' title='The one with Sadako&apos;s beach trip'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-111733506331762499</id><published>2005-05-29T10:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:12:50.355-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The One with the Zombies &amp; Jedis</title><content type='html'>I watched Episode 3. While I wasn't raving about it, I didn't hate it either. The scene that made the most impact on me though was the shirtless Anakin scene. My, that boy is all grown up. Because of my impure Anakin thoughts, this is what I dreamt about ---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was outside the house with my cousin Aya &amp; my brother Paul. We were all shouting &amp; tense because there's a group of rabid zombies about to eat our brains. These zombies are not the loser-slow-moving ones like House of the Dead, I'm talking about the aggressive animal pouncing ones ala 28 Days Later. So we were hiding behind the car while they were trying to shoot the zombies with their pistols. I didn't have a gun with me and was starting to panic because we were obviously outnumbered. I did not want to be eaten alive. As we were trying to dodge the zombies, we fell to the ground. I grabbed my cousin Aya's pistol, took one last look at the monsters and shot myself in the head. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The strange thing was, I didn't die. I was so confused cos I managed to stand up and walk around the house. It just felt like I had a terrible migrane cos my head was so heavy. But I was technically dead (hello, I shot myself), so the zombies didn't mind me. They were just wandering around the compound. I don't know what happened to my companions though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of looking for them, I thought of Anakin and Padme (and the baby) who were sleeping in my dad's radio room. Apparently, they were guests. I remember running towards the room and dreading the possibility that they might be dead. I enter the room to see Anakin and Padme lying on the bed surrounded by 12 black and white puppies who were crying because their masters were dead. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I remember shouting at them saying, "How could a Jedi be defeated by zombies? Damn, Anakin. You're dead! But you were so hot!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-111733506331762499?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/111733506331762499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=111733506331762499' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/111733506331762499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/111733506331762499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2005/05/one-with-zombies-jedis.html' title='The One with the Zombies &amp; Jedis'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-111724680556918007</id><published>2005-05-28T22:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:12:50.296-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The One with the Naked Beauty Pageant</title><content type='html'>I was some beauty pageant coach. I remember telling a group of skinny high school kids that they should walk down the ramp feeling beatiful. I was saying things like, "This is your chance to show your classmates that you are beautiful", "You are beautiful", "The way you walk should be telling people how beautiful you are!". So I was encouraging them to be confident and to just go out there and have fun. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next thing I know, I'm sharing the long table with the judges. The opening number starts but I am busy vocalizing because I have to go to my Star in a Million (think American Idol) auditions in a couple of hours. I'm trying to decide if I should sing "Angels Brought Me Here" or Tamia's "Careless Whisper". I sing a few lines of each song. And then I get really, REALLY distracted when I see that the high school kids are all dancing on stage naked. They were all very confident and rolling on the floor and giving high kicks while it was raining on stage. They looked like wet strippers. For some strange reason, there were also hunky naked men dancing on stage with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a very disturbing sight. Young naked girls dancing while an audience cheered them on. TSome of them didn't even have pubic hair yet. The judges were cringing though because we all felt sorry for them. I even overheard one of the judges saying "Her kicks wouldn't have looked so bad if she had panties on".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-111724680556918007?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/111724680556918007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=111724680556918007' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/111724680556918007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/111724680556918007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2005/05/one-with-naked-beauty-pageant.html' title='The One with the Naked Beauty Pageant'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186701.post-111709745140399438</id><published>2005-05-26T01:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:12:50.236-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Testing</title><content type='html'>I want this to be my dream journal. Being the ambituous little shit that I am, let's see if I can maintain two blogs. Yeah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186701-111709745140399438?l=curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/feeds/111709745140399438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13186701&amp;postID=111709745140399438' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/111709745140399438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186701/posts/default/111709745140399438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://curiouser-and-curiouser.blogspot.com/2005/05/testing.html' title='Testing'/><author><name>trina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/tr1na/kitty.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
