<?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-6489476869224296003</id><updated>2011-04-21T18:04:36.143-07:00</updated><category term='Scary'/><category term='Jokes I think'/><category term='Movies'/><category term='Mathematics'/><category term='Jokes'/><category term='Exams'/><category term='sports'/><category term='School'/><title type='text'>love_hurts_its_true</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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>73</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-9034692792133211217</id><published>2009-04-08T06:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T06:56:53.974-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><title type='text'>Today 8th of april</title><content type='html'>Today in class during BM we were eating everything in our pockets example: Mentos, choki and milk choki. The BM teacher didn't come today so another teacher came instead so we all pile behind there chat, eat and laugh. Then the class finish liao. Everyone go back to their places emtpy handed. Why? Because we finish it too fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today morning wushu, I nearly break my hand, legs and head. Hands got kicked by my friend, Legs while doing warm up I nearly break it by doing over my limit, head too much things to remeber not jsut wushu so very painful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today before wushu: Got chase by a girl who look like she is going to kill me. Got chased for less than 5minutes twice, third time I was talk to friend and she hit me with a book on my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today after wushu: Went to my friends house wah his grandmother so kind. After 10minutes I went back to school while he was showering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After school, went back home checking my dad's old phone because my phone got problem. After dad came home, I remeber something about the 2phones I use all no battery so I thought my phone also no battery so I ask my dad to give it back to me, then I go charged it what do you think happen? It was out of battery thats why I can't keep it on for 1second now using it. Save some money for repairing?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-9034692792133211217?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/9034692792133211217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/04/today-8th-of-april.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/9034692792133211217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/9034692792133211217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/04/today-8th-of-april.html' title='Today 8th of april'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-1021496873876603565</id><published>2009-04-08T06:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T06:40:39.861-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mathematics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Overworked</title><content type='html'>&lt;pre&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="format"&gt;I have found out the real reason why I'm tired, because I'm overworked! The&lt;br /&gt;population of this country is 237 million: 104 million are retired. That leaves&lt;br /&gt;133 million to do the work. There are 85 million in school, which leaves 48&lt;br /&gt;million to do the work. Of this there are 29 million employed by the federal&lt;br /&gt;government. This leaves 19 million to do the work. 4 million are in the armed&lt;br /&gt;forces, which leaves 15 million to do the work. Take from the total the&lt;br /&gt;14,800,000 people who work for the city and state government and that leaves&lt;br /&gt;200,000 to do the work. There are 188,000 people in hospitals so that leaves&lt;br /&gt;12,000 to do the work. Now there are 11,998 people in prison. That leaves 2&lt;br /&gt;people to do the work, You and Me...&lt;br /&gt;AND YOU'RE SITTING THERE SCREWING AROUND ON MY JOKE PAGE!       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-1021496873876603565?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/1021496873876603565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/04/overworked.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/1021496873876603565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/1021496873876603565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/04/overworked.html' title='Overworked'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-8567852341818904442</id><published>2009-04-08T06:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T06:34:48.761-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes I think'/><title type='text'>HELP WANTED</title><content type='html'>&lt;pre&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="format"&gt;A local business was looking for office help. They put a sign in the window,&lt;br /&gt;stating the following: "HELP WANTED. Must be able to type, must be good with a&lt;br /&gt;computer and must be bilingual. We are an Equal Opportunity Employer." A short&lt;br /&gt;time afterwards, a dog trotted up to the window, saw the sign and went inside.&lt;br /&gt;He looked at the receptionist and wagged his tail, then walked over to the sign,&lt;br /&gt;looked at it and whined. Getting the idea, the receptionist got the office&lt;br /&gt;manager. The office manager looked at the dog and was surprised, to say the&lt;br /&gt;least. However, the dog looked determined, so he led him into the office.&lt;br /&gt;Inside, the dog jumped up on the chair and stared at the manager. The manager&lt;br /&gt;said, "I can't hire you. The sign says you have to be able to type." The dog&lt;br /&gt;jumped down, went to the typewriter and proceeded to type out a perfect letter.&lt;br /&gt;He took out the page and trotted over to the manager and gave it to him, then&lt;br /&gt;jumped back on the chair. The manager was stunned, but then told the dog, "The&lt;br /&gt;sign says you have to be good with a computer." The dog jumped down again and&lt;br /&gt;went to the computer. The dog proceeded to enter and execute a perfect program&lt;br /&gt;that worked flawlessly the first time. By this time the manager was totally&lt;br /&gt;dumb-founded! He looked at the dog and said, "I realize that you are a very&lt;br /&gt;intelligent dog and have some interesting abilities. However, I *still* can't&lt;br /&gt;give you the job." The dog jumped down and went to a copy of the sign and put&lt;br /&gt;his paw on the sentences that told about being an Equal Opportunity Employer.&lt;br /&gt;The manager said, "Yes, but the sign *also* says that you have to be bilingual".&lt;br /&gt;The dog looked at the manager calmly and said "Meow."      &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-8567852341818904442?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/8567852341818904442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/04/help-wanted.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/8567852341818904442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/8567852341818904442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/04/help-wanted.html' title='HELP WANTED'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-5140747463544496913</id><published>2009-04-08T06:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T06:29:41.086-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes I think'/><title type='text'>Talking to God</title><content type='html'>&lt;pre&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="format"&gt;Little Jimmy was laying about on a hillock in the middle of a meadow on a warm&lt;br /&gt;spring day.  Puffy white clouds rolled by and he pondered their shape.  Soon, he&lt;br /&gt;began to think about God.&lt;br /&gt;"God?  Are you really there?"  Jimmy said out loud.&lt;br /&gt;To his astonishment a voice came from the clouds.  "Yes, Jimmy?&lt;br /&gt;What can I do for you?"&lt;br /&gt;Seizing the opportunity, Jimmy asked, "God?  What is a million years like to&lt;br /&gt;you?"&lt;br /&gt;Knowing that Jimmy could not understand the concept of infinity, God responded&lt;br /&gt;in a manner to which Jimmy could relate.  "A&lt;br /&gt;million years to me, Jimmy, is like a minute."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh," said Jimmy.  "Well, then, what's a million dollars like to you?"&lt;br /&gt;"A million dollars to me, Jimmy, is like a penny."&lt;br /&gt;"Wow!" remarked Jimmy, getting an idea.  "You're so generous... can I have one&lt;br /&gt;of your pennies?"&lt;br /&gt;God replied, "Sure thing, Jimmy!  Just a minute."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-5140747463544496913?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/5140747463544496913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/04/talking-to-god.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/5140747463544496913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/5140747463544496913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/04/talking-to-god.html' title='Talking to God'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-2050005692197252315</id><published>2009-04-08T06:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T06:25:51.625-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes I think'/><title type='text'>Bell Ringer Wanted</title><content type='html'>&lt;pre&gt;&lt;span class="format"&gt;After Quasimodo's death, the bishop of the cathedral of  Notre Dame sent word&lt;br /&gt;through the streets of Paris that a  new bell ringer was needed. The bishop&lt;br /&gt;decided that he  would conduct the interviews personally and went up into  the&lt;br /&gt;belfry to begin the screening process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After observing while several applicants demonstrated their  skills, he&lt;br /&gt;decided to call it a day. Just then a lone,  armless man approached him and&lt;br /&gt;announced that he was there  to apply for the bell ringer's job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bishop was incredulous.  "You have no arms!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No matter," said the man, "observe!"  He then began  striking the bells with&lt;br /&gt;his face, producing a beautiful  melody on the carillon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bishop listened in astonishment, convinced that he had  finally found a&lt;br /&gt;suitable replacement for Quasimodo.Suddenly, while rushing forward to strike a&lt;br /&gt;bell, the  armless man tripped and plunged headlong out of the belfry  window to&lt;br /&gt;his death in the street below.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stunned bishop immediately rushed down the stairways.When he reached  the&lt;br /&gt;street, a crowd had gathered around  the fallen figure, drawn by the beautiful&lt;br /&gt;music they had  heard only moments before.  As they silently parted to let  the&lt;br /&gt;bishop through, one of them asked, "Bishop, who was  this man?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know his name," the bishop sadly replied, "but his  face rings a&lt;br /&gt;bell."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-2050005692197252315?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/2050005692197252315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/04/bell-ringer-wanted.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/2050005692197252315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/2050005692197252315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/04/bell-ringer-wanted.html' title='Bell Ringer Wanted'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-6134326250973277954</id><published>2009-04-08T06:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T06:23:51.497-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes I think'/><title type='text'>You are over 21</title><content type='html'>&lt;pre&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="format"&gt;A guy walked into a little corner store with a shot gun and demanded  all the&lt;br /&gt;cash from the cash drawer.  After the cashier put the cash in a bag,  the robber&lt;br /&gt;saw a bottle of scotch that he wanted  behind the counter on  the shelf.  He&lt;br /&gt;told the cashier to put it in the bag as well, but he  refused and said "Because&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe you are over 21."  The robber  said he was, but the clerk still&lt;br /&gt;refused to give it to him because he  didn't believe him. At this point the&lt;br /&gt;robber took his drivers license out  of his wallet and gave it to the clerk. &lt;br /&gt;The clerk looked it over,  and  agreed that the man was in fact over 21 and he&lt;br /&gt;put the scotch in the bag.The robber then ran from the store with his loot. The&lt;br /&gt;cashier promptly  called the police and gave the name and address of the robber&lt;br /&gt;that he got  off the license.They arrested the robber two hours  later.       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-6134326250973277954?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/6134326250973277954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/04/you-are-over-21.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/6134326250973277954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/6134326250973277954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/04/you-are-over-21.html' title='You are over 21'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-4442798950606690651</id><published>2009-04-08T06:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T06:21:15.870-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Lunch Money</title><content type='html'>&lt;pre&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="format"&gt;MOTHER: Why on earth did you swallow the money I gave you?&lt;br /&gt;JUNIOR : You said it was my lunch money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-4442798950606690651?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/4442798950606690651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/04/lunch-money.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/4442798950606690651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/4442798950606690651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/04/lunch-money.html' title='Lunch Money'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-7958048258159773902</id><published>2009-04-08T06:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T06:20:42.883-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Sexing Your Computer</title><content type='html'>&lt;pre&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="format"&gt;As you are aware, ships have long been characterized as    being female (e.g.,&lt;br /&gt;"Steady as she goes", or "She's listing    to starboard, Captain!"). Recently, a&lt;br /&gt;group of computer scientists (all males) announced that computers should also be&lt;br /&gt;referred to as being female. Their reasons for drawing this conclusion follow:&lt;br /&gt;   Five reasons to believe computers are female:&lt;br /&gt;   1.  No one but the Creator understands their   internal logic.&lt;br /&gt;   2.  The native language they use to communicate with other computers is&lt;br /&gt;incomprehensible to everyone else.&lt;br /&gt;   3.  The message "Bad command or file name" is about as informative as, "If&lt;br /&gt;you don't know why I'm mad at you, then I'm certainly not going to tell you".&lt;br /&gt;   4.  Even your smallest mistakes are stored in long-term memory for later&lt;br /&gt;retrieval.&lt;br /&gt;   5.  As soon as you make a commitment to one, you find yourself spending&lt;br /&gt;half your paycheck on accessories for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, another group of computer scientists (all female) think that&lt;br /&gt;computers should be referred to as if they were male.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their reasons follow:&lt;br /&gt;   Five reasons to believe computers are male:&lt;br /&gt;   1.  They have a lot of data, but are still clueless.&lt;br /&gt;   2.  They are supposed to help you solve problems, but half the time they&lt;br /&gt;are the problem.&lt;br /&gt;   3.  As soon as you commit to one you realize that, if you had waited a&lt;br /&gt;little longer, you could have obtained a better model.&lt;br /&gt;   4.  In order to get their attention, you have to turn them on.&lt;br /&gt;   5.  Big power surges knock them out for the rest of the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-7958048258159773902?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/7958048258159773902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/04/sexing-your-computer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/7958048258159773902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/7958048258159773902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/04/sexing-your-computer.html' title='Sexing Your Computer'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-3303738682916331998</id><published>2009-03-25T06:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T06:11:28.482-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Exams'/><title type='text'>Exams Finish</title><content type='html'>OMFG. Today exam finish, finally. Tomorrow no more exam, so good. Tomorrow a lot of home works for sure, stupid teachers!!! Tomorrow normal study time liao, siao. Tomorrow need to pass up the jon kai, sure dead. Tomorrow no more worries, YAHOO. Tomorrow wont need to get scold by teacher when talking in class, good. Tomorrow not sure what will happen, why? Because I can't see the future thats why!!! Exams finally finish too bad only 1st exam, shit. Oh well, My sejarah sure failed liao lor the last 10questions so hard. The teacher siao de they give the sejarah exam like for form2 de. Tomorrow I can go out with friends again!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-3303738682916331998?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/3303738682916331998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/exams-finish.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/3303738682916331998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/3303738682916331998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/exams-finish.html' title='Exams Finish'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-7896216994214866657</id><published>2009-03-23T06:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T06:29:54.803-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Scary'/><title type='text'>The Black Dog of Meriden</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;The Black Dog of Meriden, Connecticut is a small, ghostly dog who leaves no footprints and makes no sound, even when it appears to be barking or howling. According to legend, if you see the Black Dog once it means joy, twice it means sorrow, but if you see it a third time, it means death. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.scaryforkids.com/pics/meriden-01.jpg" title="Meriden" alt="Meriden" width="500" height="254" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;According to Meriden’s local legend, the Black Dog can be seen barking, but it makes no sound. Where it trods the ground it raises no dust, in snow it makes no footprints. Ghostlike, the dog appears as if out of nowhere, and takes its leave just as mysteriously, as it roams over a large area around the hills.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;In the early 1900s, a geologist by the name of Pynchon was surveying a mountain in Meridan called West Peak. He saw the black dog was following him, keeping it’s distance, but still staying in view. When Pynchon turned to go home, the dog disappeared into the trees.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The second time he saw the dog was a few years later, while hiking in the same spot with friends. One of the friends he was climbing with said he had seen the same dog twice before. As they approached the peak, the dog was already ahead of them. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Pyncheon heard a terrible scream and turned in horror to see his friend had lost his footing and had fallen hundreds of feet to his death on the rocks below. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;When Pynchon got back to Meriden, locals told him about the legend of the Black Dog but he refused to believe it. The locals told him never to go back to the mountain because if he saw the dog again, it would mean his death.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;A few years went by, and Pynchon decided to climb the same mountain. He left his lodgings bright and early one morning and never returned. His dead body was later found at the bottom of a ravine. People say the night he died, he must have seen the Black Dog a third time and fallen to his death. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.scaryforkids.com/pics/meriden-02.jpg" title="Meriden" alt="Meriden" width="500" height="300" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Over the years several lives have been lost on the Meriden mountain, including an experienced Alpine climber in 1972. Although all the fatalities are listed as accidental, the old timers know they were brought about by the Black Dog of Meriden. So if you are hiking the West Peak in Meridan, Connecticut… be careful!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-7896216994214866657?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/7896216994214866657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/black-dog-of-meriden.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/7896216994214866657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/7896216994214866657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/black-dog-of-meriden.html' title='The Black Dog of Meriden'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-8071642976228687453</id><published>2009-03-23T06:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T06:25:55.855-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Scary'/><title type='text'>Knock-Knock</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Knock Knock is a scary Urban Legend about a young boy and his sister who are left home alone when their parents go out for the night.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.scaryforkids.com/pics/knock-knock.jpg" alt="Knock Knock" style="width: 400px; height: 300px;" title="Knock Knock" width="400" height="300" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;As their mother was leaving, she they told her children not to open the door under any circumstances. If anyone knocks, don’t answer it, she told them. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;But the boy and his sister didn’t pay attention to their mother’s warning. They thought she was being too careful. They figured they could take care of themselves in any situation.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;About an hour after the parents left, the kids heard a “knock, knock, knock” on the front door. They decided to ignore it, but again, they heard “knock, knock, knock”. It happened again and again and it grew louder each time.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Eventually, the girl couldn’t stand it anymore and she told her brother she was going to answer the door. When the boy reminded her of their mother’s warning, the girl just wouldn’t listen. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Again, they heard the “knock, knock, knock” on the door. Finally the sister went downstairs. Her brother lay on the sofa watcing TV. He heard his sister’s footsteps walking down the stairs. He heard her asking loudly “Who is it?”. He heard her open the lock on the front door.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Then he heard only silence. He lay there for a while, listening for any noise, but heard nothing. Eventually, he started getting scared. His sister still hadn’t returned. He was afraid to call out to his sister, so he sneaked out the back door and made his way to their neighbor’s house. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;When he went into their house, his neighbor was watching the local news channel on TV. The news anchor on TV was talking about a murder. Then they showed a reporter live at the scene of the murder. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The neighbor said to the boy, “Hey that looks like your house”.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The boy was shaking with fear. “That is my house”, he said. “And that’s my front door”.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-8071642976228687453?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/8071642976228687453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/knock-knock.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/8071642976228687453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/8071642976228687453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/knock-knock.html' title='Knock-Knock'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-5484927839051041249</id><published>2009-03-23T06:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T06:08:11.004-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Exams'/><title type='text'>Exams</title><content type='html'>Haiz. Exam starts today, my friends all said if didn't read wont get it right. Then my class sure mati lor all at school only started to read. chinese and malay so hard I read liao also dont know how to do lor. So cham, tomorrow sejarah if didn't read should die and kena punish from teacher.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-5484927839051041249?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/5484927839051041249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/exams.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/5484927839051041249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/5484927839051041249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/exams.html' title='Exams'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-2142715290372338204</id><published>2009-03-16T07:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T07:19:38.168-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>The Happy Hangover</title><content type='html'>&lt;span serif=""   style="font-family:Verdana,;font-size:85%;"&gt;Jack wakes up with a huge hangover after attending his company's Christmas Party. Jack is not normally a drinker, but the drinks didn't taste like alcohol at all. He didn't even remember how he got home from the party. As bad as he was feeling, he wondered if he did something wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack had to force himself to open his eyes, and the first thing he sees is a couple of aspirins next to a glass of water on the side table. And, next to them, a single red rose! Jack sits up and sees his clothing in front of him, all clean and pressed. He looks around the room and sees that it is in perfect order, spotlessly clean. So is the rest of the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He takes the aspirins, cringes when he sees a huge black eye staring back at him in the bathroom mirror. Then he notices a note hanging on the corner of the mirror written in red with little hearts on it and a kiss mark from his wife in lipstick: "Honey, breakfast is on the stove, I left early to get groceries to make your favorite dinner tonight. I love you, darling! Love, Jillian"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He stumbles into the kitchen and sure enough, there is a hot breakfast, steaming hot coffee, and the morning newspaper all waiting for him. His son is also at the table, eating. Jack asks, "Son... what happened last night?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, you came home after 3 in the morning, drunk and out of your mind. You fell over the coffee table and broke it, and then you puked in the hallway, and got that black eye when you ran into the door."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Confused, he asked his son, "So, why is everything in such perfect order and so clean? I have a rose, and breakfast is on the table waiting for me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His son replies, "Oh THAT! Well, Mom dragged you to the bedroom, and when she tried to take your pants off, you screamed,'Leave me alone, I'm married!'" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-2142715290372338204?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/2142715290372338204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/happy-hangover.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/2142715290372338204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/2142715290372338204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/happy-hangover.html' title='The Happy Hangover'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-1830577720631425966</id><published>2009-03-16T06:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T06:53:28.952-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>24 hours</title><content type='html'>&lt;span serif="" style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;A man returns from the doctor and tells his wife that the doctor has told him he has only 24 hours to live. Given this prognosis, the man asks his wife for sex. Naturally, she agrees, and they make love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About six hours later, the husband goes to his wife and says, "Honey, you know I now have only 18 hours to live. Could we please do it one more time?".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, the wife agrees, and they do it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, as the man gets into bed, he looks at his watch and realizes that he now has only 8 hours left. He touches his wife shoulder, and asks, "Honey, please... just one more time before I die.".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She says, "Of course, Dear.". They make love for the third time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After this session, the wife rolls over and falls asleep The man, however, worried about his impending death, tosses and turns, until he’s down to 4 more hours. He taps his wife, who rouses. "Honey, I have only 4 more hours. Do you think we could..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point the wife sits up and says, "Listen, I have to get up in the morning. You don’t!". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-1830577720631425966?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/1830577720631425966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/24-hours.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/1830577720631425966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/1830577720631425966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/24-hours.html' title='24 hours'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-5408691621153734828</id><published>2009-03-16T06:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T06:50:06.105-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Old Curse</title><content type='html'>&lt;span serif=""   style="font-family:Verdana,;font-size:85%;"&gt;An old man goes to the Wizard to ask him if he can remove a curse he has been living with for the last 40 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Wizard says, "Maybe, but you will have to tell me the exact words that were used to put the curse on you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man says without hesitation - "I now pronounce you husband and wife."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-5408691621153734828?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/5408691621153734828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/old-curse.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/5408691621153734828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/5408691621153734828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/old-curse.html' title='Old Curse'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-6281726784466644768</id><published>2009-03-16T06:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T06:45:54.002-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Concerned Father</title><content type='html'>&lt;span serif=""   style="font-family:Verdana,;font-size:85%;"&gt;There once was a farmer who was raising three daughters on his own. He was very concerned about their well being and always did his best to watch out for them. As they entered the late teens, the girls dated, and on this particular evening all three of his girls were going out on a date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was the first time this had occurred. As was his custom, he would greet the young suitor at the door holding his shotgun, not to menace or threaten but merely to ensure that the young man knew who was boss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doorbell rang and the first of the boys arrived. Father answered the door and the lad said, "Hi, my name's Joe. I'm here for Flo. We're going to the show, is she ready to go?" The father looked him over and sent the kids on their way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next lad arrived and said, "My name's Eddie. I'm here for Betty. We're gonna get some spaghetti. Is she ready?" Father felt this one was okay too, so off the two kids went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The final young man arrived and the farmer opened the door. The boy started off, "Hi, my name's Chuck..." And the farmer shot him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-6281726784466644768?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/6281726784466644768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/concerned-father.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/6281726784466644768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/6281726784466644768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/concerned-father.html' title='Concerned Father'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-1553871801738736359</id><published>2009-03-16T06:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T06:43:51.004-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>6 Minutes late</title><content type='html'>&lt;span serif=""   style="font-family:Verdana,;font-size:85%;"&gt;There was a man named George who got a new job. His fellow employees always met for a round of golf every Saturday. They asked George to meet them at 10:00 Saturday morning. George replied that he would love to meet them, but he may be 6 minutes late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday morning George was there at exactly 10:00. He golfed right handed and won the round. Following Saturday rolls around, and George says that he will be there, but he may be 6 minutes late again. He shows up right on time, golf's left handed, and wins the round.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This continues for the next few weeks, with George always saying that he may be 6 minutes late, and then always winning the round golfing, either left or right handed. The other employees are getting tired of this, and decided to ask him what the deal was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They said, ''George, every Saturday you say you may be six minutes late. You never are. Then you show up and golf with either right handed or left handed, and always win. What is up with that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George replies, ''Well, I am a very superstitious kind of guy. Every Saturday when I wake up, I look over at my wife. If she is sleeping on her left side, I golf left handed. If she is sleeping on her right side, I golf right handed.''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;''Well,'' one of the employees questioned, ''What happens if she is laying on her back?'' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George replies, ''Then I am 6 minutes late.'' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-1553871801738736359?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/1553871801738736359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/6-minutes-late.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/1553871801738736359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/1553871801738736359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/6-minutes-late.html' title='6 Minutes late'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-8011395658953922580</id><published>2009-03-16T04:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T04:37:16.389-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Super Model Crash. These models are all crazy!!!</title><content type='html'>Naomi Campbell, Claudia Schiffer, and Cindy Crawford are flying to a super models conference in Paris, when the captain of the plane announces: "We have just lost power to the engines and are going to make an emergency crash landing -- assume the brace position immediately!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Immediately the three models start preparing for the worst. Claudia pulls out lipstick and make-up and starts fixing her face. Bewildered, Naomi and Cindy ask: "What in the hell are you doing fixing your make-up when we are about to friggin' crash!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Claudia responds: "I know for a fact the rescue workers will search for, and save first, the ones who have the best looking faces -- which is why I am putting on my make-up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cindy Crawford rips open her blouse to expose two beautiful mounds of flesh which inexplicably defy the law of gravity. Totally confused, Naomi and Claudia shout: "Cindy, have you lost your senses? Why are you baring your breasts for everyone to see when we are about to die!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cindy responds: "I have it on good authority in plane crashes, the rescue workers look to save first the women with big beautiful breasts -- which is why I am exposing my tits!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not hesitating, Naomi Campbell pulls down her skirt and panties to expose her love triangle." Freaking out, Claudia and Cindy yell: "Naomi -- Are you crazy?? Why are you exposing your crotch for everyone to see?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Calmly, Naomi responds: "BITCHES PLEASE! I know for a fact the first thing the rescue workers look for in plane crashes is a black box!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-8011395658953922580?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/8011395658953922580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/super-model-crash-these-models-are-all.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/8011395658953922580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/8011395658953922580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/super-model-crash-these-models-are-all.html' title='Super Model Crash. These models are all crazy!!!'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-7348471779735938813</id><published>2009-03-16T04:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T04:27:40.830-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Moths</title><content type='html'>A man and a woman meet at bar one day and are getting along really well. They decide to go back to the woman's house where they engage in passionate love making.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman suddenly cocks her ear and says, "quick my husband just got home, go hide in the bathroom!" So the man runs into the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her husband comes up into the bedroom and looks at her. "Why are you naked?" he asks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I heard you pull up outside, so I thought I would come up here and get ready to recieve you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Okay." the man replies "I'll go get ready."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He goes into the bathroom before his wife can stop him and sees a naked man standing there clapping his hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Who the fuck are you?" the man asks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am from the exterminator company, your wife called me in to get rid of the moths you are having problems with."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband exclaims, "But you are naked!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man then looks down and jumps back in surprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Those little bastards!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-7348471779735938813?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/7348471779735938813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/moths.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/7348471779735938813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/7348471779735938813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/moths.html' title='Moths'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-4468752326751841488</id><published>2009-03-16T03:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T03:33:45.848-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>This is stupid...</title><content type='html'>In case you needed further proof that the human race is doomed by stupidity, here are some actual label instructions found on consumer goods:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a Sears hairdryer: Do not use while sleeping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a bag of Fritos: You could be a winner! No purchase necessary. Details inside. (The shoplifter special.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a bar of Dial soap: Directions: Use like regular soap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a Swann frozen dinners: Serving suggestion: Defrost. (But it's just a suggestion.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Tesco's tiramisu dessert (printed on the bottom of box): Do not turn upside-down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Marks &amp;amp; Spencer bread pudding: Product will be hot after heating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On packaging for a Rowenta iron: Do not iron clothes on body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Boot's children's cough medicine: "Do not drive a car or operate machinery after taking this medication."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Nytol sleep aid: Warning: May cause drowsiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On most brands of Christmas lights: "For indoor or outdoor use only." (As opposed to what?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a Japanese food processor: Not to be used for the other use. (I gotta admit, I'm curious.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sainsbury's peanuts: "Warning: contains nuts."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On an American Airlines packet of peanuts: "Instructions: Open packet, eat nuts."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a child's Superman costume: "Wearing of this garment does not enable you to fly." (I don't blame the company, I blame the parents for this one.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a Swedish chain saw: "Do not attempt to stop chain with your hands or genitals."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-4468752326751841488?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/4468752326751841488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/this-is-stupid.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/4468752326751841488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/4468752326751841488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/this-is-stupid.html' title='This is stupid...'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-98960225520498471</id><published>2009-03-16T03:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T03:26:06.022-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Death Row</title><content type='html'>A chemist, a biologist, and an electrical engineer were on death row waiting for the electric chair. The chemist was brought forward first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you have anything you want to say?" asked the executioner, strapping him in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," replied the chemist. The executioner flicked the switch, and nothing happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Under state law, if an execution attempt fails, the prisoner has to be released, so the chemist was released.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the biologist was brought forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you have anything you want to say?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, just get on with it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The executioner flicked the switch, and again nothing happened, so the biologist was released.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the electrical engineer was brought forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you have anything you want to say?" asked the executioner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes," replied the engineer. "If you swap the red and the blue wires over, you might make this thing work."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-98960225520498471?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/98960225520498471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/death-row.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/98960225520498471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/98960225520498471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/death-row.html' title='Death Row'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-3596890410197691702</id><published>2009-03-16T03:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T03:24:32.870-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>The artificial insemination man</title><content type='html'>Amy, a city girl, marries a farmer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One morning, before he goes out to the fields, the farmer says&lt;br /&gt;to her, "The artificial insemination man is coming to&lt;br /&gt;impregnate one of our cows today. I drove a big nail into the&lt;br /&gt;two-by-four over the cow's stall. You show him where it is."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The farmer leaves, and a while later, the artificial insemination&lt;br /&gt;man arrives. Amy takes him down the rows of cows until she&lt;br /&gt;sees the nail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She says, "This is the one, right here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man says, "How do you know?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy says, "By the nail over its stall."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man says, "What's the nail for?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy says, "I guess it's to hang your pants on."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-3596890410197691702?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/3596890410197691702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/artificial-insemination-man.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/3596890410197691702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/3596890410197691702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/artificial-insemination-man.html' title='The artificial insemination man'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-1005505970854470691</id><published>2009-03-16T03:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T03:23:04.945-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>All Day</title><content type='html'>Fifteen minutes into the flight from Kansas City to Toronto, the captain announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, one of our engines has failed. There is nothing to worry about. Our flight will take an hour longer than scheduled, but we still have three engines left."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thirty minutes later the captain announced, "One more engine has failed and the flight will take an additional two hours. But don't worry ... we can fly just fine on two engines."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An hour later the captain announced, "One more engine has failed and our arrival will be delayed another three hours. But don't worry ... we still have one engine left."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A young blonde passenger turned to the man in the next seat and remarked, "If we lose one more engine, we'll be up here all day!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-1005505970854470691?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/1005505970854470691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/all-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/1005505970854470691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/1005505970854470691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/all-day.html' title='All Day'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-7873896364420910117</id><published>2009-03-16T03:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T03:21:02.189-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Two Blonde Men</title><content type='html'>Two Blonde men were in the woods hunting.  One looked at the other  and said, "I've got to take a shit."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other said, "Well go behind one of those big trees, and shit."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first one said, "But I don't have any paper to wipe my ass."  The  other blonde replied, "You have a dollar, don't you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first one said, "Yeah, I've got a dollar.  That's a great idea-- I'll use that!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He left and came back with shit all over his hands and clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His friend looked at him and asked, "What in the hell happened to  you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first one replied, "Have you ever tried to wipe your ass with 3  quarters, 2 dimes, and a nickel?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-7873896364420910117?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/7873896364420910117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/two-blonde-men.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/7873896364420910117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/7873896364420910117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/two-blonde-men.html' title='Two Blonde Men'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-7989970017154199369</id><published>2009-03-16T03:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T03:17:40.484-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Naming the Twins</title><content type='html'>A woman three months pregnant falls into a deep coma. Six months later, she awakes and asks the nearest doctor about the fate of her baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You had twins, a boy and a girl, and they are both fine," says the doctor. "Luckily, your brother named them for you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh shit, not by brother! He's an idiot! What did he call the girl?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Denise," the doctor replies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking that isn't so bad, she asks, "And what did he call the boy?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor answers, "Denephew."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-7989970017154199369?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/7989970017154199369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/naming-twins.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/7989970017154199369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/7989970017154199369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/naming-twins.html' title='Naming the Twins'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-2389158572592036059</id><published>2009-03-16T03:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T03:14:41.537-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Your Soooo DUMD</title><content type='html'>You got locked in a grocery store and starved to death!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A doctor would live next door while you bleed to death trying to call 911!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You cant count to 21 because you its too high for your fingers and toes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You used a knife to bust open the door then discoverd it was unlocked!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were in a food market and asked where they keep the tools!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You put lipstick on the dog to test because the bottle said Not tested on animals and dicided to try it yourself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You looked for a K-Jewelers by a K-B-Toys!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You stared at your kids juice box because it said concentrated!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You kept buying Coke bottles because it kept sayin Try Again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You cant figure out the instructions for a pencil sharpener!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You decided not to buy your little girl a game boy because you thought it was for boys!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You looked in an Encyclopedia for the meaning of Practical joke and couldnt find it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You then looked in a Dictionary for the meaning of practical jokes and it said turn to Spare time and it said 2Wasted time and to turn to practical joke and, repeated, repeated, repeated...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You couldnt find the zipper for your pants!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-2389158572592036059?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/2389158572592036059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/your-soooo-dumd.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/2389158572592036059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/2389158572592036059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/your-soooo-dumd.html' title='Your Soooo DUMD'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-6369967974077394266</id><published>2009-03-16T03:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T03:12:02.281-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Railroad</title><content type='html'>A man who had spent his whole life in the desert visited a friend. He'd never seen a train or the tracks they run on. While standing in the middle of the railroad tracks, he heard a whistle, but didn't know what it was. Predictably, he was hit and thrown to the side of the tracks, with some internal injuries, a few broken bones, and some bruises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After months in the hospital recovering, he was at his friend's house attending a party. While in the kitchen, he suddenly heard the tea kettle whistling. He grabbed a baseball bat from the nearby closet and bashed the tea kettle into an unrecognizable lump of metal. His friend, hearing the ruckus, rushed into the kitchen, saw what had happened, and asked the desert man, "Why'd you ruin my good tea kettle?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The desert man replied, "Man, you gotta kill these things when  they're small."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-6369967974077394266?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/6369967974077394266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/railroad.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/6369967974077394266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/6369967974077394266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/railroad.html' title='Railroad'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-626043649858313993</id><published>2009-03-16T03:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T03:10:20.227-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Mercedes-Benz</title><content type='html'>A taxi driver driving a Mercedes-Benz picked up a rather simple looking fellow at the airport one day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the gentleman got in and they started on their way he enquired what the three pinned emblem on the front is for. The driver replied "why it's for lining it up at people so you can run them down".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ah I see", said the man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With this the taxi driver starts heading straight for an elderly woman but at the last second swerves away and hears a loud bang, he looks curiously over at the passenger who is hanging out of the car with the door wide open: "I thought you were going to miss there for a minute!".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-626043649858313993?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/626043649858313993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/mercedes-benz.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/626043649858313993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/626043649858313993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/mercedes-benz.html' title='Mercedes-Benz'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-4539069039186723143</id><published>2009-03-16T03:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T03:08:36.405-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Safety Study</title><content type='html'>The National Transportation Safety Board recently divulged that they had for the past five years covertly funded a project with US auto makers whereby the auto makers installed black boxes in four wheel drive pickup trucks in an effort to determine, in fatal accidents, the circumstances in the last 15 seconds before the crash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were surprised to find in 44 of the 50 states that the last words of drivers in 61.2 percent of fatal crashes were, "Oh, Shit!" Only the states of West Virginia, Georgia, Mississippi, Louisiana, Alabama, Texas, and Tennessee were different, where over 89.3 percent of the final words were: "Hold my beer and watch this."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-4539069039186723143?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/4539069039186723143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/safety-study.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/4539069039186723143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/4539069039186723143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/safety-study.html' title='Safety Study'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-682039495332287300</id><published>2009-03-16T03:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T03:01:23.901-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>At the Military Base</title><content type='html'>It was early morning at the military base, and the first sergeant was calling out names for the daily work parties listed on a piece of paper:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ames" "Here!" "Jenson" "Here!" "Jones" "Here!" "Magersky" "Here!" "Seeback"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Seeback!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No answer was heard again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"SEEBACK!!!" The troops remained totally silent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that point, someone whispered into the first sergeant's ear. He looked again at what the last name really said, quickly turned over the list and continued calling the names printed on the other side.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-682039495332287300?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/682039495332287300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/at-military-base.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/682039495332287300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/682039495332287300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/at-military-base.html' title='At the Military Base'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-3103129671624790903</id><published>2009-03-16T02:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T02:54:07.828-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>The Shiny-Walled Box Thingie</title><content type='html'>An Amish boy and his father were visiting a nearby mall. They were amazed by almost everything they saw, but especially by two shiny silver walls that moved apart and back together again by themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lad asked, "What is this, father?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The father (having never seen an elevator) responded, "I have no idea what it is."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the boy and his father were watching wide-eyed, an old lady in a wheelchair rolled up to the moving walls and pressed a button. The walls opened and the lady rolled between them into a small room. The walls closed and the boy and his father watched as small circles lit up above the walls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The walls opened up again and a beautiful twenty-four-year-old woman stepped out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The father looked at his son anxiously and said, "Go get your mother."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-3103129671624790903?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/3103129671624790903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/shiny-walled-box-thingie.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/3103129671624790903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/3103129671624790903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/shiny-walled-box-thingie.html' title='The Shiny-Walled Box Thingie'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-3593696590954010608</id><published>2009-03-16T02:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T02:51:32.231-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Three Dumd Hunters</title><content type='html'>Three idiots decide to go hunting. The first one says he's going to get a buck. He goes out, and indeed comes back with a buck. The other two hunters ask how he did it. He says, "I see tracks. I follow tracks. I get buck."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the second hunter says that he's going to get a doe. And he does. They ask him how he did it, and he says, "I see tracks. I follow tracks. I get doe."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the third hunter says, "I'm just gonna shoot at anything I see."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he goes out and comes back half a day later all beaten, bruised, bloody, and totally trashed. The other two hunters ask him what happened and he says, "I see tracks. I follow tracks. I get hit by train!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-3593696590954010608?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/3593696590954010608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/three-dumd-hunters.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/3593696590954010608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/3593696590954010608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/three-dumd-hunters.html' title='Three Dumd Hunters'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-5691466976968922602</id><published>2009-03-16T02:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T02:48:52.541-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Pa won't Like It</title><content type='html'>A farm boy accidentally overturned his wagonload of corn. The farmer who lived nearby heard the noise and yelled over to the boy, "Hey Willis, forget your troubles. Come in and visit with us. I'll help you get the wagon up later."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's mighty nice of you," Willis answered, "but I don't think Pa would like me to."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Aw come on boy," the farmer insisted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well okay," the boy finally agreed, and added, "but Pa won't like it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a hearty dinner, Willis thanked his host. "I feel a lot better now, but I know Pa is going to be real upset."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't be foolish!" the neighbor said with a smile. "By the way, where is he?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Under the wagon."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-5691466976968922602?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/5691466976968922602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/pa-wont-like-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/5691466976968922602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/5691466976968922602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/pa-wont-like-it.html' title='Pa won&apos;t Like It'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-3671821378126127754</id><published>2009-03-16T02:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T02:46:08.141-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Walking Along The Beach In France</title><content type='html'>A redneck is walking along the beach in France. There are many beautiful women lying in the sun, and he really wants to meet one. But try as he might, the women don't seem to be at all interested. Finally, as a last resort, he walks up to a French guy lying on the beach who is surrounded by adoring women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Excuse me," he says, taking the guy aside, "but I've been trying to meet one of those women for about an hour now, and I just can't seem to get anywhere with them. You're French. You know these women. What do they want?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Maybe I can help a leetle beet," says the Frenchman. "What you do ees you go to zee store. You buy a leetle bikini sweeming suit. You walk up and down zee beach. You meet girl very qweekly zees way."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow! Thanks!" says the redneck, and off he goes to the store. He buys a skimpy red bathing suit, puts it on, and goes back to the beach. He parades up and down the beach but still has no luck with the ladies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he goes back to the Frenchman. "I'm sorry to bother you again," he says, "but I went to the store, I got a swimsuit, and I still haven't been able to meet a girl."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Okay," says the Frenchman, "I tell you what you do. You go to zee store. You buy potato. You put potato in sweeming suit and walk up and down zee beach. You will meet girl very, very qweekly zees way."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thanks!" says the guy, and runs off to the store. He buys the potato, puts it in the swimsuit, and marches up and down the beach. Up and down, up and down he walks, but the women will hardly even look at him. After half an hour he can't take it anymore and goes back to the Frenchman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Look," he says, "I got the suit, I put the potato in it, and I walked up and down the beach-- and still nothing! What more can I do?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," says the Frenchman, "maybe I can help you a leetle beet. Why don't you try moving zee potato to the FRONT of zee sweeming suit?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-3671821378126127754?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/3671821378126127754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/walking-along-beach-in-france.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/3671821378126127754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/3671821378126127754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/walking-along-beach-in-france.html' title='Walking Along The Beach In France'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-8263660847140594103</id><published>2009-03-16T02:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T02:40:11.593-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Sky Dive</title><content type='html'>A redneck wanted to learn how to sky dive. He got an instructor and started lessons. The instructor told the redneck to jump out of the plane and pull his rip cord. The instructor then explained that he himself would jump out right behind him so that they would go down together. The redneck understood and was ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The time came to have the redneck jump from the air plane. The instructor reminded the redneck that he would be right behind him. The redneck proceeded to jump from the plane and after being in the air for a few seconds pulled the rip cord. The instructor followed by jumping from the plane. The instructor pulled his rip cord but the parachute did not open. The instructor, frantically trying to get his parachute open, darted past the redneck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The redneck, seeing this, yelled as he undid the straps to his parachute, "So you wanna race, eh?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-8263660847140594103?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/8263660847140594103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/sky-dive.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/8263660847140594103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/8263660847140594103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/sky-dive.html' title='Sky Dive'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-7451452118952179326</id><published>2009-03-16T02:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T02:38:33.048-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Driving through the Dessert</title><content type='html'>A lawyer, a doctor, and a redneck were driving through the desert when they suddenly ran out of gas. They all decided to start walking to the nearest town (which they had passed 50 miles back) to get some help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A rancher was sitting on his front porch that evening when he saw the lawyer top the horizon and walk toward him. The rancher noticed that the lawyer was carrying a glass of water, so when he was within hearing distance, the rancher said, "Hi there...what are you doing carrying a glass of water through the desert?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lawyer explained his predicament and explained that since he had a long way to go, he might get thirsty, so that's why he was carrying the water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little while later the rancher noticed the doctor walking toward him with a loaf of bread in his hand. "What are you doing?" asked the rancher again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As before, the doctor explained the situation and said that since he had a long way to go, he might get hungry and that's why he had the bread.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally the redneck appeared, dragging a car door through the sand. More curious than ever, the rancher asked, "Hey, why are you dragging that car door?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," said the redneck, "I have a long way to go, so if it gets too hot, I'll roll down the window."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-7451452118952179326?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/7451452118952179326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/driving-through-dessert.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/7451452118952179326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/7451452118952179326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/driving-through-dessert.html' title='Driving through the Dessert'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-2557338229118378606</id><published>2009-03-16T02:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T02:35:48.557-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Extremely Sad With Life</title><content type='html'>There was once a hillbilly who was extremely sad with life because people always made fun of him. He decided to do something about it. He sat back and thought about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly he thought - "I have never seen anyone making fun of Italians. So, if I start talking and behaving like them, no one will be able to make out that I am a hillbilly and make fun of me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He went into isolation for three months and after a lot of practice, he walked confidently into a shop and said, "I am a very hungry. Give me some pepperoni and zucchini."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Immediately, the man behind the counter said "Are you a hillbilly?" This guy was taken aback and he repeated his request. The man behind the counter said, "Are you a hillbilly or not?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This man was finally very ashamed and amazed at the shop owner's discerning ability and so he admitted to the fact after which he asked, "But how did you know?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The shopkeeper replied, "This is a hardware store!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-2557338229118378606?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/2557338229118378606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/extremely-sad-with-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/2557338229118378606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/2557338229118378606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/extremely-sad-with-life.html' title='Extremely Sad With Life'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-1232428786775507044</id><published>2009-03-16T02:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T02:33:52.313-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>A Norwegian took a trip to Fargo</title><content type='html'>A Norwegian took a trip to Fargo, North Dakota. While in a bar, an Indian on the next stool spoke to the Norwegian in a friendly manner.&lt;br /&gt;"Look," he said, "let's have a little game. I'll ask you a riddle. If you can answer it, I'll buy you a drink. If you can't then you buy me one. OK?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ja, dat sounds purty good," said the Norwegian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Indian said, "My father and mother had one child. It wasn't my brother. It wasn't my sister. Who was it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Norwegian scratched his head and finally said, "I give up. Who vas it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It was ME," chortled the Indian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the Norwegian paid for the drinks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in Sioux Falls the Norwegian went into the bar and spotted one of his cronies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sven," he said, "I got a game. If you can answer a question, I'll buy you a drink. If you can't, you have to buy me vun. Fair enough?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fair enough," said Sven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ok," the Norwegian said, "my father and mudder had vun child. It vasn't my brudder. It vasn't my sister. Who vas it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Search me," said Sven. "I give up, who vas it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Norwegian burst out, "It vas some Indian up in Fargo, North Dakota!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-1232428786775507044?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/1232428786775507044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/norwegian-took-trip-to-fargo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/1232428786775507044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/1232428786775507044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/norwegian-took-trip-to-fargo.html' title='A Norwegian took a trip to Fargo'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-5363703042801803276</id><published>2009-03-16T02:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T02:27:39.798-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Stupidity</title><content type='html'>(name withheld) Minnetonka, MN  55345&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Superior Health Insurance ATTN: Claims Review 1423 W. 90th St. New York, NY 05016&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Sir:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This letter is in response to your recent letter requesting a more detailed explanation concerning my recent internment at Methodist Hospital. Specifically, you asked for an expansion in reference to Block 21(a)(3) of the claim form (reason for hospital visit). On the original form, I put "Stupidity". I realize now that this answer was somewhat vague and so I will attempt to more fully explain the circumstances leading up to my hospitalization.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had needed to use the restroom and had just finished a quick bite to eat at the local burger joint. I entered the bathroom, took care of my business, and just prior to the moment in which I had planned to raise my trousers, the locked case that prevents theft of the toilet paper in such places came undone and, feeling it striking my knee, unthinkingly, I immediately, and with unnecessary force, returned the lid back to its normal position.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, as I did this I also turned and certain parts of my body, which were still exposed, were trapped between the device's lid and its main body. Feeling such intense and immediate pain caused me to jump back. It quickly came to my attention that, when one's privates are firmly attached to an immovable object, it is not a good idea to jump in the opposite direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon recovering some of my senses, I attempted to reopen the lid. However, my slamming of it had been sufficient to allow the locking mechanism to engage. I then proceeded to get a hold on my pants and subsequently removed my keys from them. I intended to try to force the lock of the device open with one of my keys; thus extracting myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, when I attempted this, my key broke in the lock. Embarrassment of someone seeing me in this unique position became a minor concern, and I began to call for help in as much of a calm and rational manner as I could. An employee from the restaurant quickly arrived and decided that this was a problem requiring the attention of the store manager.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Betty, the manager, came quickly. She attempted to unlock the device with her keys. Since I had broken my key off in the device, she could not get her key in. Seeing no other solution, she called the EMS (as indicated on your form in block 21(b)(1)).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After approximately 15 minutes, the EMS arrived, along with two police officers, a fire-rescue squad, and the channel 4 ''On-the-Spot'' news team. The guys from the fire department quickly took charge as this was obviously a rescue operation. The senior member of the team discovered that the device was attached with bolts to the cement wall that could only be reached once the device was unlocked. (His discovery was by means of tearing apart the device located in the stall next to the one that I was in. (Since the value of the property destroyed in his examination was less than $50 (my deductible) I did not include it in my claim.) His partner, who seemed like an intelligent fellow at the time, came up with the idea of cutting the device from the wall with the propane torch that was in the rescue truck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fireman went to his truck, retrieved the torch, and commenced to attempt to cut the device from the wall. Had I been in a state to think of such things, I might have realized that in cutting the device from the wall several things would also inevitably happen. First, the air inside of the device would quickly heat up, causing items inside the device to suffer the same effects that are normally achieved by placing things in an oven. Second, the metal in the device is a good conductor of heat causing items that are in contact with the device to react as if thrown into a hot skillet. And, third, molten metal would shower the inside of the device as the torch cut through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one bright note of the propane torch was that it did manage to cut, in the brief time that I allowed them to use it, a hole big enough for a small pry bar to be placed inside of the device. The EMS team then loaded me, along with the device, into the waiting ambulance as stated on your form.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Due the small area of your block 21(a)(3), I was unable to give a full explanation of these events, and thus used the word which I thought best described my actions that led to my hospitalization.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely, (name withheld)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-5363703042801803276?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/5363703042801803276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/stupidity.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/5363703042801803276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/5363703042801803276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/stupidity.html' title='Stupidity'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-2057891982972372066</id><published>2009-03-16T02:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T02:20:30.325-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm STUPID</title><content type='html'>Stupid people should have to wear signs that just say, "I'm Stupid". That way you wouldn't rely on them, would you? You wouldn't ask them anything. It would be like, "Excuse me...oops, never mind. I didn't see your sign."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like before my wife and I moved. Our house was full of boxes and there was a U-Haul truck in our driveway. My friend comes over and says "Hey, you moving?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nope.  We just pack our stuff up once or twice a week to see how many boxes it takes. Here's your sign."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of months ago I went fishing with a buddy of mine, we pulled his boat into the dock, I lifted up this big 'ol stringer of bass and this idiot on the dock goes, "Hey, y'all catch all them fish?" "No - We talked 'em into giving up. Here's your sign."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was watching one of those animal shows on the Discovery Channel. There was a guy inventing a shark bite suit. And there's only one way to test it. "Alright Jimmy, you got that shark suit on, it looks good... They want you to jump into this pool of sharks, and you tell us if it hurts when they bite you." "Well, all right, but hold my sign. I don't wanna lose it!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last time I had a flat tire, I pulled my truck into one of those side-of-the-road gas stations. The attendant walks out, looks at my truck, looks at me, and I SWEAR he said, "Tire go flat?" I couldn't resist. said, "Nope. I was driving around and those other three just swelled right up on me! Here's your sign."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were trying to sell our car about a year ago. A guy came over to the house and drove the car around for about 45 minutes. We get back to the house, he gets out of the car, reaches down and grabs the exhaust pipe, then says, "Darn that's hot!" See? If he'd been wearing his sign, I could have stopped him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I learned to drive an 18 wheeler in my days of adventure. Wouldn't ya know I misjudged the height of a bridge. The truck got stuck and I couldn't get it out no matter how I tried. I radioed in for help and eventually a local cop shows up to take the report. He went through his basic questioning..ok..no problem. I thought sure he was clear of needing a sign...until he asked "So.. is your truck stuck?" I couldn't help myself! I looked at him, looked back at the rig and then back to him and said "no I'm delivering' a bridge...here's your sign.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-2057891982972372066?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/2057891982972372066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-stupid.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/2057891982972372066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/2057891982972372066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-stupid.html' title='I&apos;m STUPID'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-4827500822213724736</id><published>2009-03-16T02:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T02:11:53.957-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Jokes</title><content type='html'>1. Doctor! I have a serious problem, I can never remember what i just said.&lt;br /&gt;When did you first notice this problem?&lt;br /&gt;What problem?&lt;br /&gt;2.What do you call a sheep with no legs?&lt;br /&gt;A cloud.&lt;br /&gt;3.What is defference between man and Superman?&lt;br /&gt;Man wears underwear under the trouser and superman wears it over the trouser&lt;br /&gt;4.Sam: Would you punish me for some thing i didn't do?&lt;br /&gt;Teacher: no, of course not.&lt;br /&gt;Sam: good, because i didn't do my homework.&lt;br /&gt;5.Why did the elephant bring toilet paper to a party?&lt;br /&gt;  Because he was a party pooper.&lt;br /&gt;6.What is green and smells?&lt;br /&gt;Hulk's fart.&lt;br /&gt;7.How do you make a blonde's eyes sparkle?&lt;br /&gt;Shine a torch into her ear...&lt;span class="smallblue"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.&lt;/span&gt;How can you tell when a lawyer is lying?&lt;br /&gt;His lips are moving.&lt;span class="smallblue"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.&lt;/span&gt;Why won't sharks attack lawyers?&lt;br /&gt;Professional courtesy.&lt;span class="smallblue"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.&lt;/span&gt;What do you have when a lawyer is buried up to his neck in sand?&lt;br /&gt;Not enough sand. &lt;span class="smallblue"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-4827500822213724736?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/4827500822213724736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/jokes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/4827500822213724736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/4827500822213724736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/jokes.html' title='Jokes'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-9058876214351809745</id><published>2009-03-16T02:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T02:05:41.404-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Surgeon's Preference</title><content type='html'>&lt;span id="intelliTXT"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;Five surgeons were taking a &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-weight: 400; font-style: normal;font-family:'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;font-size:12;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"  &gt;coffee break&lt;/span&gt; and were discussing their work. It was an interesting conversation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;The first surgeon said, “I think accountants are the easiest to operate on. You open them up and everything inside is numbered.”&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The second replied, “I like to operate on electricians. You open them up and everything inside is color-coded.”&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span&gt;The third added, “I think librarians are the easiest to operate on. you open them up and everything inside is in &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-weight: 400; font-style: normal;font-family:'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;font-size:12;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"  &gt;alphabetical order&lt;/span&gt;.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The fourth one boasted, “I like to operate on lawyers. They’re heartless, spineless, gutless, and their heads and their butts are interchangeable.”&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fifth surgeon said, “I like Engineers. . . they always understand when you have a few parts left over at the end…”&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-9058876214351809745?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/9058876214351809745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/surgeons-preference.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/9058876214351809745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/9058876214351809745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/surgeons-preference.html' title='Surgeon&apos;s Preference'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-6888317987086729953</id><published>2009-03-16T02:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T02:03:25.785-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>A Smart Business Plan</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;A new shift manager was being shown around the Latex factor where he was just hired. The plant manufactures various latex products, and has a reputation for using cutting edge technology in their &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;manufacturing process&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;On one side of the building, the factory makes baby bottle nipples. The machine makes a loud “hiss-pop” noise, and the shift manager asks his tour guide what it’s doing. “As the rubber is being injected into the mold, it makes a hiss noise.” he says “The popping sound is from needle poking a hole &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;in the end&lt;/span&gt; of the nipple.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;img class="alignright size-full wp-image-1538" title="Baby Bottle Nipple" src="http://www.funnyandjokes.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/baby-bottle-nipple.jpg" alt="Baby Bottle Nipple" width="150" height="150" /&gt;&lt;span&gt;On the other side of the building, the two men look at the condom making machine. This machine makes a “hiss.. hiss… hiss-pop” sound during the &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;manufacturing process&lt;/span&gt;. “Wait a second,” the future shift manager says, “I know what the hiss, hiss is… but what’s with the ‘pop’ noise every once in a while?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;“Oh, that hehe. It’s the same as the baby bottle nipple process.” says the guide… “It pokes a hole in every third condom.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;“But that can’t be good for the condoms!” the observant shift manager replied.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;“Nah, but it’s &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; good for the baby bottle nipple business!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-6888317987086729953?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/6888317987086729953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/smart-business-plan.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/6888317987086729953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/6888317987086729953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/smart-business-plan.html' title='A Smart Business Plan'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-2907888952522080256</id><published>2009-03-16T02:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T02:00:53.594-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>20 Fun Things To Do On An Elevator While Bored</title><content type='html'>&lt;span id="intelliTXT"&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span&gt;When there’s only one other person in &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;the elevator&lt;/span&gt;, tap them on the shoulder and then pretend it wasn’t you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span&gt;Push &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;the buttons&lt;/span&gt; and pretend they give you a shock. Smile, and go back for more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span&gt;Call the &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;Psychic Hotline&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; from your cell phone and ask if they &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;know what&lt;/span&gt; floor you’re on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Swat at flies that don’t exist.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span&gt;Grimace painfully while smacking your forehead and muttering, “Shut up, &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;all of you&lt;/span&gt;, just shut up!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Crack open your briefcase or purse, and while peering inside, ask, “Got enough air in there?”&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lay down a Twister mat and ask people if they’d like to play.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span&gt;Leave a box &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;in the corner&lt;/span&gt;, and when someone gets on, ask them if they hear something ticking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ask if you can push the button for other people, but push the wrong ones.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span&gt;Pretend you are a flight attendant and review &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;emergency procedures&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; and exits with &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;the passengers&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span&gt;Stand silently and motionless &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;in the corner&lt;/span&gt;, facing the wall, without getting off.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Stare, grinning at another passenger for a while, and then announce, “I have new socks on.”&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Draw a little square on the floor with chalk and announce to the other passengers, “This is my personal space!”&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fart loudly then exclaim “Was that you. There’s no way I could do that one because unfortately mine don’t come out loud.”&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span&gt;Before &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;the elevator&lt;/span&gt; door opens shout “DING” and then laugh and say “beat you again Mr Elevator.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Stand really close to someone, sniffing them occasionally.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hire a labrador, wear sunglasses and repeatedly walk into the walls whilst pretending to not hear the other passenger’s direction.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drop a pen and wait until someone reaches to help pick it up, then scream, “that’s mine!”&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hold the doors open and say you’re waiting for your friend. After a while, let the doors close and say, “Hi Greg. How’s your day been?”&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Stare at another passenger for a while, then announce in horror, “You’re one of THEM!” and back away slowly.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-2907888952522080256?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/2907888952522080256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/20-fun-things-to-do-on-elevator-while.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/2907888952522080256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/2907888952522080256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/20-fun-things-to-do-on-elevator-while.html' title='20 Fun Things To Do On An Elevator While Bored'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-8452074672575910854</id><published>2009-03-16T01:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T01:57:04.556-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Hippie and The Nun</title><content type='html'>&lt;span id="intelliTXT"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;One day a &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;hippie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; gets &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;a ride&lt;/span&gt; on a public bus and sees a hot young &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;nun&lt;/span&gt;. He sits down next to her and promptly asks if she would like to have sex, to which she immediately says no and walks off the bus. The &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;bus driver&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; leans over and says “Hey guy I know how to get that &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;nun&lt;/span&gt; to have sex with you…”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Naturally the &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;hippie&lt;/span&gt; asks, and the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;bus driver&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; tells him that every night at midnight the &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;nun&lt;/span&gt; goes to an old graveyard to pray for god to forgive her for her past, and that he should dress up like god and tell the &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;nun&lt;/span&gt; she will be forgiven if she has sex with you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;The &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;hippie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; gives his thanks and runs to the nearest &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;costume shop&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Later that evening the &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;hippie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; gets ready for his big night and drives down to &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;the graveyard&lt;/span&gt; and sees the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;nun&lt;/span&gt; praying, on her knees. He says “Behold, I have heard your prayers and you shall be forgiven if you have sex with me!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;The &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;nun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; agrees but asks if they can have anal sex in order to keep her virginity. The &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;hippie&lt;/span&gt; agrees and once they are finished the &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;hippie&lt;/span&gt; jumps back and pulls off his mask and says “Surpise, its me the Hippie!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;The &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;nun&lt;/span&gt; jumps up and pulls off her mask and says “Surprise, its me the bus driver!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-8452074672575910854?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/8452074672575910854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/hippie-and-nun.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/8452074672575910854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/8452074672575910854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/hippie-and-nun.html' title='Hippie and The Nun'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-34597392293189999</id><published>2009-03-16T01:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T01:54:49.202-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Actual McDonald’s Application For Employment</title><content type='html'>&lt;span id="intelliTXT"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;These are actual answers on a McDonald’s application submitted by a 17 &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;year old kid&lt;/span&gt; someplace in Florida. They actually hired him too. I think this kid’s gonna go far…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;NAME:&lt;/strong&gt; Greg Bulmash.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SEX:&lt;/strong&gt; Not yet. Still waiting for the right person.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DESIRED POSITION:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span&gt; Company’s President or &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;Vice President&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;. But seriously, whatever’s available. If I was in a position to be picky, I wouldn’t be applying here in the &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;first place&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DESIRED SALARY:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span&gt; $185,000 a year plus stock options and a Michael Ovitz style &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;severance package&lt;/span&gt;. If that’s not possible, make an offer and we can haggle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;EDUCATION:&lt;/strong&gt; Yes.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;LAST POSITION HELD:&lt;/strong&gt; Target for middle management hostility.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SALARY:&lt;/strong&gt; Less than I’m worth.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MOST NOTABLE ACHIEVEMENT:&lt;/strong&gt; My incredible collection of stolen pens and post-it notes.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;REASON FOR LEAVING:&lt;/strong&gt; It sucked.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HOURS AVAILABLE TO WORK:&lt;/strong&gt; Any.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;PREFERRED HOURS:&lt;/strong&gt; 1:30-3:30 p.m., Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DO YOU HAVE ANY SPECIAL SKILLS?:&lt;/strong&gt; Yes, but they’re better suited to a more intimate environment.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MAY WE CONTACT YOUR CURRENT EMPLOYER?:&lt;/strong&gt; If I had one, would I be here?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DO YOU HAVE ANY PHYSICAL CONDITIONS THAT WOULD PROHIBIT YOU FROM LIFTING UP TO 50 LBS?:&lt;/strong&gt; Of what?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DO YOU HAVE A CAR?:&lt;/strong&gt; I think the more appropriate question here would be “Do you have a car that runs?”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HAVE YOU RECEIVED ANY SPECIAL AWARDS OR RECOGNITION?:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span&gt; I may already be a winner of the &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;Publishers Clearing house&lt;/span&gt; Sweepstakes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DO YOU SMOKE?:&lt;/strong&gt; On the job no, on my breaks yes.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE DOING IN FIVE YEARS?:&lt;/strong&gt; Living in the Bahamas with a fabulously wealthy dumb sexy blonde super model who thinks I’m the greatest thing since sliced bread. Actually, I’d like to be doing that now.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DO YOU CERTIFY THAT THE ABOVE IS TRUE AND COMPLETE TO THE BEST OF YOUR KNOWLEDGE?:&lt;/strong&gt; Yes. Absolutely.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SIGN HERE:&lt;/strong&gt; Aries.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-34597392293189999?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/34597392293189999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/actual-mcdonalds-application-for.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/34597392293189999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/34597392293189999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/actual-mcdonalds-application-for.html' title='Actual McDonald’s Application For Employment'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-7592159418258913690</id><published>2009-03-16T01:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T01:48:07.434-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Sunday School Lesson</title><content type='html'>&lt;span id="intelliTXT"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Little &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;Janice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; was not the best student in Sunday school. Usually she slept through class. &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;One day&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;the teacher&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; called on her while she was napping, “Tell me &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;Janice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;, who created &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;the universe&lt;/span&gt;?” When &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;Janice&lt;/span&gt; didn’t stir, little Johnny, a boy seated in the chair behind her, took a pin and jabbed her in the rear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;“&lt;em&gt;God Almighty!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;” shouted &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;Janice&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;the teacher&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; said, “Very good” and &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;Janice&lt;/span&gt; fell back asleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;A while later &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;the teacher&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; asked &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;Janice&lt;/span&gt;, “Who is our Lord and Saviour.” But, &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;Janice&lt;/span&gt; didn’t even stir from her slumber. Once again, Johnny came &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;to the rescue&lt;/span&gt; and stuck her again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;“&lt;em&gt;Jesus Christ!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;” shouted &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;Janice&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;the teacher&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; said, “Very good,” and &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;Janice&lt;/span&gt; fell back asleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;Then &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;the teacher&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; asked &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;Janice&lt;/span&gt; a third question. “What did Eve say to Adam after she had her twenty-third child?” and again, Johnny jabbed her with the pin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;This time &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;Janice&lt;/span&gt; jumped up and shouted, “&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;If you stick me with that thing one more time, I’ll break it in half and stick it up your ass!&lt;/em&gt;”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;… &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;the teacher&lt;/span&gt; fainted!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-7592159418258913690?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/7592159418258913690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/sunday-school-lesson.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/7592159418258913690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/7592159418258913690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/sunday-school-lesson.html' title='Sunday School Lesson'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-6047547716642604318</id><published>2009-03-16T01:31:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T01:42:32.666-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Life's tought when your stupid</title><content type='html'>&lt;span id="intelliTXT"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;A classroom full of first year Veterinary students were participating in their first day of anatomy class. For the lecture, the &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;professor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; begins by unveiling a dead cow under a &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;white sheet&lt;/span&gt; laying on an operating table.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;The &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;professor&lt;/span&gt; tells &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;the class&lt;/span&gt; “In &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 128, 0); text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(0, 128, 0); font-size: 12px; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-family: 'lucida grande',verdana,arial,sans-serif;" class="IL_LINK_STYLE"&gt;Veterinary Medicine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;, there are two qualities you must possess as a doctor - the first of which is a strong stomach. You cannot, under any circumstance, be disgusted by anything involving an animal’s body.”&lt;img class="alignright size-full wp-image-1532" title="Cow" src="http://www.funnyandjokes.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/cow.jpg" alt="Cow" width="200" height="162" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;For example, the &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;Professor&lt;/span&gt; pulls back the sheet and sticks his finger right up the dead cow’s butt, pulls out his finger and sticks it in his mouth. The students just standthere, paralyzed at what they see. “Now, go ahead and do the same thing, each of you,” the &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;professor&lt;/span&gt; says.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;Freaked out, the students take several minutes but eventually take turns sticking their fingers up into the anal cavity of the dead cow, and then sucking on them. Once everyone is finished, the &lt;span class="IL_SPAN"&gt;&lt;input name="IL_MARKER" type="hidden"&gt;Professor&lt;/span&gt; continues on with his lesson… “Now, the second important quality you must possess is a keen observation. You see, I stuck in my middle finger up the cow’s butt, and I sucked on my index finger… Now, learn to pay attention.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The moral: Life’s tough, but it’s even tougher when you’re stupid.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-6047547716642604318?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/6047547716642604318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/lifes-tought-when-your-stupid.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/6047547716642604318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/6047547716642604318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/lifes-tought-when-your-stupid.html' title='Life&apos;s tought when your stupid'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-9020312067188964486</id><published>2009-03-16T01:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T01:31:34.208-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>我所能想到的让你女朋友生气时的场景</title><content type='html'>1、　逛街的时候你不注视她而只顾着看别的女孩；&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2、　逛街的时候你没有看别的女孩但是你看的全是男人；&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3、 逛街的时候你没有注视别的女孩也没有看别的男人可是也没有看她而是只顾着走路结果撞了别人的报摊被要求赔偿时；&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4、　那天她生日可是你给忘了；&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5、　你没有忘记她的生日可是忘了给她买礼物；&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6、 你没有忘记她的生日也没有忘记给她买礼物可是她发现你的礼物是地摊上买来的或者是商场跳楼价狂打折买一送一的；&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7、 情人节那天你百年不遇生大病发高烧昏迷一天一夜，她不但没有受到你的礼物还不得不在医院照顾你24个小时；&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8、 情人节那天你给她送了玫瑰，可是后来她发现那玫瑰是别人送给你的；&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9、 情人节那天你送了她玫瑰可是她知道你同时也送了别人玫瑰；&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10、你妈和她同时掉到了河里，你先救了你妈；&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11、你妈和她同时掉到了河里，你准备同时救你妈和她可是连你都知道这根本不可能；&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12、你妈和她同时掉到了河里，你谁都不准备救；&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13、她问你她和另外一个女孩谁漂亮，你说了实话可答案是另一个女孩；&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14、她问你她和另外一个女孩谁漂亮，你不敢说实话；&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15、她问你她和另外一个女孩谁漂亮，你不敢说实话可是她逼着你要你说你没有办法最后还是说了可是还是说出了她不漂亮的实话；&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16、静谧的夜晚你们两个人近距离的相望着，她闭上了眼睛你突然像发现新大陆似的说她的眼睛睁着和闭着一样大；&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17、静谧的夜晚你们两个人近距离的相望着，她闭上了眼睛你也准备要打呼噜或者已经打起了呼噜；&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18、静谧的夜晚你们两个人近距离的相望着，她闭上了眼睛你偷偷把手伸进了她的口袋准备偷走她的钱包可是被她发现了；&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19、她问你她是否真的像我上面写的那样你说是；&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20、她问你她是否&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-9020312067188964486?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/9020312067188964486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/9020312067188964486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/9020312067188964486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/blog-post.html' title='我所能想到的让你女朋友生气时的场景'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-2147690855675015896</id><published>2009-03-16T01:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T01:21:57.849-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Low self-esteem</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,helvetica;"&gt;A guy had been feeling down for so long that he finally decided to seek the aid of a psychiatrist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He went there, lay on the couch, spilled his guts then waited for the profound wisdom of the psychiatrist to make him feel better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The psychiatrist asked me a few questions, took some notes then sat thinking in silence for a few minutes with a puzzled look on his face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, he looked up with an expression of delight and said, "Um, I think your problem is low self-esteem. It is very common among losers."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-2147690855675015896?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/2147690855675015896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/low-self-esteem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/2147690855675015896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/2147690855675015896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/low-self-esteem.html' title='Low self-esteem'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-6247321892073317426</id><published>2009-03-16T01:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T01:20:16.138-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Crazy people talk</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,helvetica;"&gt;A doctor of psychology was doing his normal morning rounds when he entered a patient's room. He found Patient #1 sitting on the floor, pretending to saw a piece of wood in half.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patient #2 was hanging from the ceiling, by his feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor asked patient number 1 what he was doing. The patient replied, "Can't you see I'm sawing this piece of wood in half?" The doctor inquired of Patient #1 what Patient #2 was doing. Patient #1 replied, "Oh. He's my friend, but he's a little crazy. He thinks he's a lightbulb." The doctor looks up and notices Patient #2's face is going all red.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor asks Patient #1, "If he's your friend, you should get him down from there before he hurts himself"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patient #1 replies, "What? And work in the dark?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-6247321892073317426?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/6247321892073317426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/crazy-people-talk.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/6247321892073317426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/6247321892073317426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/crazy-people-talk.html' title='Crazy people talk'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-2725669769111771163</id><published>2009-03-16T01:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T01:18:09.175-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Promoting an office</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,helvetica;"&gt;A psychotherapist was having a roaring business since he started from scratch. So much so that he could now afford to have a proper shop banner advertising his wares. So he told a kid to paint the sign board for him &amp;amp; put it above his shop entrance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, instead of his business building up, it began to slacken. He had especially noticed the ladies shying away from his shop after reading the sign board. So he decided to check it out himself. Then he understood why !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy found a small wooden board so he had split the word into the 3 words :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Psycho-&lt;br /&gt;the-&lt;br /&gt;rapist.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-2725669769111771163?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/2725669769111771163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/promoting-office.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/2725669769111771163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/2725669769111771163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/promoting-office.html' title='Promoting an office'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-5523266972231815081</id><published>2009-03-16T01:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T01:16:41.051-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Scared Sleeping</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,helvetica;"&gt;Shakey went to a psychiatrist. "Doc," he said, "I've got trouble. Every time I get into bed, I think there's somebody under it. I get under the bed, I think there's somebody on top of it. Top, under, top, under. "you gotta help me, I'm going crazy!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Just put yourself in my hands for two years," said the shrink. "Come to me three times a week, and I'll cure your fears."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How much do you charge?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A hundred dollars per visit."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll sleep on it," said Shakey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Six months later the doctor met Shakey on the street. "Why didn't you ever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;come to see me again?" asked the psychiatrist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For a hundred buck's a visit? A bartender cured me for ten dollars."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is that so! How?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He told me to cut the legs off the bed!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-5523266972231815081?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/5523266972231815081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/scared-sleeping.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/5523266972231815081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/5523266972231815081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/scared-sleeping.html' title='Scared Sleeping'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-6321702877829221904</id><published>2009-03-16T01:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T01:14:33.526-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Doctors Meeting</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,helvetica;"&gt;A group of psychiatrists were attending a convention. Four of them decided to leave, and walked out together. One said to the other three, "People are always coming to us with their guilt and fears, but we have no one that we can go to when we have problems." The others agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then one said, "Since we are all professionals, why don't we take some time right now to hear each other out?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other three agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first then confessed, "I have an uncontrollable desire to kill my patients."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second psychiatrist said, "I love expensive things and so I find ways to cheat my patients out of their money whenever I can so I can buy the things I want."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third followed with, "I'm involved with selling drugs and often get my patients to sell them for me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fourth psychiatrist then confessed, "I know I'm not supposed to, but no matter how hard I try, I can't keep a secret..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-6321702877829221904?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/6321702877829221904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/doctors-meeting.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/6321702877829221904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/6321702877829221904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/doctors-meeting.html' title='Doctors Meeting'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-8204599872241543505</id><published>2009-03-16T01:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T01:12:52.316-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Trouble Sleeping</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,helvetica;"&gt;The woman seated herself in the psychiatrists office. "What seems to be the problem?" the doctor asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I, uh," she stammered. "I think I, uh, might be a nymphomaniac."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I see," he said. "I can help you, but I must advise you that my fee is $80 an hour."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's not bad," she replied. "How much for all night?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-8204599872241543505?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/8204599872241543505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/trouble-sleeping.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/8204599872241543505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/8204599872241543505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/trouble-sleeping.html' title='Trouble Sleeping'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-7896985736749196080</id><published>2009-03-16T01:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T01:11:39.402-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Why must we learn this?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,helvetica;"&gt;One day our professor was discussing a particularly complicated concept. A pre-med student rudely interrupted to ask, "Why do we have to learn this pointless information"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"To save lives." the professor responded quickly and continued the lecture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later, the same student spoke up again. "So how does physics save lives?" he persisted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It keeps the ignoramuses like you out of medical school," replied the professor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-7896985736749196080?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/7896985736749196080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/why-must-we-learn-this.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/7896985736749196080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/7896985736749196080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/why-must-we-learn-this.html' title='Why must we learn this?'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-8690566854247889299</id><published>2009-03-16T01:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T01:10:24.428-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Burger joint conversation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,helvetica;"&gt;M.I.T.: "I had a nervous breakdown this weekend."&lt;br /&gt;"Have some fries."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Caltech: "I had three nervous breakdowns this weekend."&lt;br /&gt;"Have some fries."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Yale: "I got mugged on the way to class today."&lt;br /&gt;"Have some fries."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Brown: "I got a nose ring this weekend, Professor Smith."&lt;br /&gt;"Cool! Me too! Have some fries."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Swarthmore: "I got a B."&lt;br /&gt;"Anywhere else it would have been an A. Have some fries."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Princeton: "My father took away my Porsche this weekend."&lt;br /&gt;"Poor dear. Have some Escargot."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Harvard: "Did you do anything this weekend?"&lt;br /&gt;"Nope. Have some fries."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Williams: "Don't I know you?"&lt;br /&gt;"Of course you do, silly. Have some fries."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Cornell: "I killed my lab partner this weekend."&lt;br /&gt;"Bummer. Have some fries."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Columbia: "I wish I could be eating these fries at a better school."&lt;br /&gt;"Me too. Let's go get shot."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Penn: "I wish I could be eating these fries at a better school."&lt;br /&gt;"Me too. Let's transfer to Columbia."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Stanford: "Dude, I have so much work this weekend."&lt;br /&gt;"Like, chill out, dude. Have some, like, fries."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Dartmouth:  "Oh man, I got so trashed this weekend."&lt;br /&gt;"Have some beer."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Tufts: "I wish I were Ivy League."&lt;br /&gt;"Here, drink the fry grease."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-8690566854247889299?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/8690566854247889299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/burger-joint-conversation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/8690566854247889299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/8690566854247889299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/burger-joint-conversation.html' title='Burger joint conversation'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-7763023440777827667</id><published>2009-03-11T07:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T07:54:06.054-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sports'/><title type='text'>Hari Sukan Pictures got from sister~</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfQDCXS9GI/AAAAAAAAACM/C3hZex-2dho/s1600-h/IMG_1883.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfQDCXS9GI/AAAAAAAAACM/C3hZex-2dho/s320/IMG_1883.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311943036099556450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfPv9USLNI/AAAAAAAAACE/A-_3Ys8JgkI/s1600-h/Image067.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfPv9USLNI/AAAAAAAAACE/A-_3Ys8JgkI/s320/Image067.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311942708327230674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfPvZGuGWI/AAAAAAAAAB8/qtjeekwqwdo/s1600-h/IMG_2078.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfPvZGuGWI/AAAAAAAAAB8/qtjeekwqwdo/s320/IMG_2078.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311942698606664034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfPvRqBWwI/AAAAAAAAAB0/BmUK78v12iI/s1600-h/IMG_1876.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfPvRqBWwI/AAAAAAAAAB0/BmUK78v12iI/s320/IMG_1876.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311942696607243010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfPuh5cpII/AAAAAAAAABs/i5EG58gWW4Y/s1600-h/IMG_2050.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfPuh5cpII/AAAAAAAAABs/i5EG58gWW4Y/s320/IMG_2050.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311942683787043970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfPuMLWEjI/AAAAAAAAABk/eq3rrUUOwbg/s1600-h/IMG_1871.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfPuMLWEjI/AAAAAAAAABk/eq3rrUUOwbg/s320/IMG_1871.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311942677956530738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfOiEJcjsI/AAAAAAAAABc/i1gF7hyrZJE/s1600-h/IMG_2146.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfOiEJcjsI/AAAAAAAAABc/i1gF7hyrZJE/s320/IMG_2146.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311941370131025602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfOh8hMr6I/AAAAAAAAABU/vp5bF7wbcIo/s1600-h/IMG_2139.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfOh8hMr6I/AAAAAAAAABU/vp5bF7wbcIo/s320/IMG_2139.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311941368083165090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfOhzkMBmI/AAAAAAAAABM/E7a20dpBKTI/s1600-h/IMG_2147.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfOhzkMBmI/AAAAAAAAABM/E7a20dpBKTI/s320/IMG_2147.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311941365679785570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfOhvni4DI/AAAAAAAAABE/c_0i1SBrjqU/s1600-h/IMG_2100.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfOhvni4DI/AAAAAAAAABE/c_0i1SBrjqU/s320/IMG_2100.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311941364620124210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfOhWIMG6I/AAAAAAAAAA8/ZfR6jsEKsuU/s1600-h/IMG_1890.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfOhWIMG6I/AAAAAAAAAA8/ZfR6jsEKsuU/s320/IMG_1890.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311941357777722274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfNZOezAdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/S_FB5WJ8gk4/s1600-h/IMG_2050.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfNZOezAdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/S_FB5WJ8gk4/s320/IMG_2050.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311940118774481362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfNZFS7WSI/AAAAAAAAAAs/k_cKqfAZXNM/s1600-h/IMG_1894.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfNZFS7WSI/AAAAAAAAAAs/k_cKqfAZXNM/s320/IMG_1894.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311940116308777250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfNZCGTLHI/AAAAAAAAAAk/3XmLuigOP8g/s1600-h/Image066.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfNZCGTLHI/AAAAAAAAAAk/3XmLuigOP8g/s320/Image066.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311940115450506354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfNY_-Sn2I/AAAAAAAAAAc/fvNVuNO_UNo/s1600-h/Image065.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfNY_-Sn2I/AAAAAAAAAAc/fvNVuNO_UNo/s320/Image065.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311940114880044898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfNYiGuKnI/AAAAAAAAAAU/OpZUF6sC64o/s1600-h/Image064.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfNYiGuKnI/AAAAAAAAAAU/OpZUF6sC64o/s320/Image064.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311940106862340722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-7763023440777827667?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/7763023440777827667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/hari-sukan-pictures-got-from-sister.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/7763023440777827667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/7763023440777827667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/hari-sukan-pictures-got-from-sister.html' title='Hari Sukan Pictures got from sister~'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/SbfQDCXS9GI/AAAAAAAAACM/C3hZex-2dho/s72-c/IMG_1883.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-8675410242627544795</id><published>2009-03-04T05:21:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T05:25:02.090-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This is what we did on dou wei's birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/Sa6AzMJIOtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/YIDyoCxPkkc/s1600-h/Image043.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/Sa6AzMJIOtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/YIDyoCxPkkc/s320/Image043.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309322627637590738" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                   Later I only know they were singing karaoke.&lt;br /&gt;                                                   Got this from sister.==&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-8675410242627544795?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/8675410242627544795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/this-is-what-we-did-on-dou-weis.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/8675410242627544795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/8675410242627544795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/this-is-what-we-did-on-dou-weis.html' title='This is what we did on dou wei&apos;s birthday'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lTIRO30P8c8/Sa6AzMJIOtI/AAAAAAAAAAM/YIDyoCxPkkc/s72-c/Image043.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-5473451366201764043</id><published>2009-03-03T05:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T06:00:10.649-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Today</title><content type='html'>Today wake up around 6:40am because today got basketball. Reach school around 7:25am, basketball teacher did not came. The replacement teacher only took our attandence and we went to play basketball this time better than last time ba. I at least stole the ball a lot, and got hit by the ball twice. Then finish liao, went to the gate waited for Yi Yong since he wanted to borrow the disc "The Law Of Ueki" waited for 5minutes or so. Then go my house got him the disc.&lt;br /&gt;He said:"Yay. No need to wait for 3years to see the disc."&lt;br /&gt;Me:"3years for some disc?"&lt;br /&gt;He:"(Say something I forgot)"&lt;br /&gt;Then he go home I go watch book for half an hour and go bath. Then watch TV eat lunch go school play chinese chess win my friend by 2/3 and 1/3 for him. Then the usual except I slept when the teacher went for a meeting. Then reaht chat with friends. Go back class and the usual happens homework do finish during class then go home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-5473451366201764043?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/5473451366201764043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/today.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/5473451366201764043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/5473451366201764043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/today.html' title='Today'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-5688032934219429856</id><published>2009-03-03T05:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T05:53:53.374-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yesterday</title><content type='html'>Yesterday went to IOI with friends. We go eat McDonald 1st wasted some money on 2packs of french fry. Yi Yong's fault he say 3packs was not enough.==". He saw the food picture he though it was very little french fry so call me to order 2more. Wah luckily it wasn't expensive. Then go popular. Nothing to buy for the 4of us Yan Kan, Yi Yong, Yen Chi and me. Pei Shan bought a book and a pen which add to RM20. Then we go bowling I score a spare and strike. Yi Yong got 2spare I think that was what the machine call it. Then Yen Chi got 6missed in a row and Pei Shan also got 4missed in a row. Yan Kan got 40+points and 4missed in a row. Then we go Jusco play the games so excited. We play the robot, The house of the dead or something like that, and a soldier game which we didn pass level1 with the four of us. Then we go back to bowling this time Yan Kan didn play. The feng shui not good alot of missed.==". So we switch lane a bit better. Then pizza I switch with Yen Chi since she said she can't eat egg/seafood I gave her my Tropical Chicken and I get hers Egg &amp;amp; Wonder. She said the cheese stinks but Pei Shan said she love the cheese. Me and Yi Yong smell the cheese I nearly fainted Yi Yong nearly vomit. Yen Chi didn't eat her cheese. Then We go Jusco wait for dad to pick us up. I go buy a Ice Shake to drink mango so sweet. Then we go to the gate there and wait. Then I call dad again. He say go to the bus stop there and wait so he don't need to turn to IOI. So we go there and wait lor. All add up we waited for 1hour 15minutes for dad to pick us up. Pei Shan cannot go out liao, she said her mom said de. Yen Chi I don't know Yi Yong also.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-5688032934219429856?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/5688032934219429856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/yesterday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/5688032934219429856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/5688032934219429856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/03/yesterday.html' title='Yesterday'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-9171341541889812127</id><published>2009-02-28T23:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-28T23:53:04.751-08:00</updated><title type='text'>During orphanage, Sports Day</title><content type='html'>Yesterday we went to the church for the orphanage stuffs. We went to there to gotong-royong. Our teachers told us to be nice to the children, and the auntie there told us not to ask about their past. We, me and friends, separate to boys and girls group. Boys go upstair roof place clean the windows part. We need to go out to the roof to do it nearly fell down the roof. Very hot and someone pour a bit water on the roof so I didn't know and step on it so nearly fell down the roof. Then we need to clean the cupboard, drawers, someone clean the underbed floors, mop the floor/hall and wash the buckets. Still good ba the uncle malas take picture only didn't help me. It was fun for a group of ppl to do the cleaning. Later eat cake, my friend sick so cannot eat cakes. Then play a game not sure what game was it, it was like following the leader only different. Then, not sure why my leg hurt after we got up the van to leave. Yesterday go IOI celebrate birthday quiet boring cause no friends. We eat keniroger(spell wrong I think) the chicken very good me full until want to mati. Go popular my let me buy 5books. Then about to go home I choose some sushi's handroll for snacks cause hungry that time. I eat both of it,&lt;br /&gt;Dad ask me:"Eat so much still not yet full?"&lt;br /&gt;Me:"Was full now hungry."&lt;br /&gt;Dad:"Wah. Eat so much."&lt;br /&gt;Forgot what we say after that.&lt;br /&gt;Go upstair sis watching a movie call "Charlie Wilson's War" sis say not that nice so I switch channel but very sleeping so sleep liao. Today sports day, didn't focus on any events only focus on playing hamburger(rock,paper,scissors) game a bit harder than rock,paper,scissors. Me won 1st and 2nd round hit the same person twice. Then the rest lose cham. Then we go rehat eat and chat then got scolded by pn.chin cause didn't go back tent. Then we play and watch the events for awhile and go home liao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-9171341541889812127?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/9171341541889812127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/during-orphanage.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/9171341541889812127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/9171341541889812127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/during-orphanage.html' title='During orphanage, Sports Day'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-7638388337618904225</id><published>2009-02-26T06:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T05:27:55.351-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Feb26(26-2-2009 Thursday)</title><content type='html'>A bit excited about Monday. Going out with friends but this time a bit longer and its the 2nd time I go out with them. 1st was the birthday I go to my uncles house after about 1hour since we started to have fun. Now going for a much longer time. I wonder what stuffs will we do on that day. Tomorrow wake up early my&lt;br /&gt;Friend:"Wake up so early for what?"&lt;br /&gt;Me:"To watch TV what else?"&lt;br /&gt;Friend:"Cheh though you play football with us."&lt;br /&gt;Me:"My leg still pain, last time my leg,head,stomach and almost my sensitive part kena ball leh."&lt;br /&gt;Friend:"Aiyo like that also don't want play with us liao?&lt;br /&gt;Me:"Anytime also can play ma, me still like to watch TV better than playing football."&lt;br /&gt;Friend:"Okay. Next time you must play with us ah."&lt;br /&gt;Me:"Okay, No problem about that deal."&lt;br /&gt;Than we say bye and go home. I think I better go sleep. Tomorrow need to wake up so early just to watch TV. My sis didn't know I have a blog. HAHA.&lt;br /&gt;Today at class was so good finish homework before going home. And kena rottan twice during Chinese class. My writing improve my father said. My teacher she said my writing didn't improve. Oh well try harder lor. Yesterday forgot to add I nearly fell down the stairs during recess and hold a guy's shoulder they guy almost scold me. Luckily I say Sorry thought you were one of my friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-7638388337618904225?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/7638388337618904225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/feb2626-2-2009-thursday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/7638388337618904225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/7638388337618904225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/feb2626-2-2009-thursday.html' title='Feb26(26-2-2009 Thursday)'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-9051022996702123739</id><published>2009-02-25T05:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T05:08:52.679-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I haven heard from her(saturday going to orphanage)</title><content type='html'>2months of school(almost), I haven call her yet because don't know shy or what. But I can't call her don't ask me why. If I think what I am going to say to her I will forget it as soon as she picks up the phone haiz Not sure whats wrong with me. Just feel like calling her but don't know what to say after she picks up the phone. I should try calling her some day, not so soon at least. This week going to orphanage with church members should be fun. But I can't think of any games atm. Oh well I will try to think of a game soon I guess. Hope to see her as soon as possible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-9051022996702123739?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/9051022996702123739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-haven-heard-from-hersaturday-going-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/9051022996702123739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/9051022996702123739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-haven-heard-from-hersaturday-going-to.html' title='I haven heard from her(saturday going to orphanage)'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-1674277212317682367</id><published>2009-02-24T05:04:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T05:08:19.910-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Got this from yen chi...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;下午第一节是历史课，老师在课堂上讲得兴致勃勃。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;一个外号叫三毛的同学却趴在课桌上呼呼大睡，老师十分生气，就把三毛叫了起来。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;     老师问：你说，王安石和欧阳修有什么共同点？&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;     三毛脱口而出：他们都是宋朝人。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;老师接着问：那你说说，他们和唐太宗，诸葛亮有什么共同点？&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;     三毛想了想，答到：他们都是古代人。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;      课堂上一阵大笑，老师将错就错，干脆当个游戏玩下去，也算活跃课堂气氛，于他们和袁凯，张学良有共同点吗？&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;     三毛想了想，说：他们都是男人。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;     老师接着又问：如果加上李清照，慈禧呢？&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;     三毛急了：他。。。他们都是中国人。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;     老师笑了笑。问道：你再说说，拿破仑和凯撤有什么共同点？&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;     三毛：他们都当过皇帝。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;     老师问：他们和达尔文，希特勒有什么共同点？&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;     三毛答到这时已经摸到窍门了，他得意地回答：他们都是外国人。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;     老师又紧逼了一句：那他们和我前面提到的那些人呢？&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;     三毛一竿子插到底：他们都是人。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;      老师又问：据我所知，这些人当中有的养过鸡和狗，把这些动物算上，他们有什么共同点？&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;     老师这么一问，三毛的头开始冒汗了：这个。。。他们都死了。。。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;     嗯，的确都死了。老师点了点头。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;      三毛腿一软，坐了下来，心想：这个问题该到头了吧！&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;      不料老师又说：你站起来，还有最后一个问题。。。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;      假如现在他们还活着，能找出共同点吗？&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:100%;"  &gt;     三毛傻了眼，他想了五分钟，才哭哀着脸说：如果不算时差的话，他们应该都吃过午饭了。。。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-1674277212317682367?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/1674277212317682367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/got-this-from-yen-chi_24.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/1674277212317682367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/1674277212317682367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/got-this-from-yen-chi_24.html' title='Got this from yen chi...'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-4246984183351005366</id><published>2009-02-22T05:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T05:38:59.585-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movies'/><title type='text'>Yesterday de stuff~</title><content type='html'>Yesterday went to my sis and my friend's birthday party. Have fun there and saw my one of my best friends. He came after I came about 10-20minutes after I reach there. I sing karaoke with sister and friends and he play ps2 with other friends. Later some girls say they want to watch ghost movies so I got excited to watch too same with sis. The ghost movie name was "Ju-on 2" very scary lor. My sis scream at the beginning and cant scream during the middle and the ending part. My ears nearly pop because 2other girls and 3boys were screaming I was asking myself why are they screaming? Ghost movie only mah. But my heart still pounding because I didn't scream to me sreaming is wasteing my breath haha. Then almost finish watching need to sing birthday song and eat cakes I grab a chicken wing too. Then continue watching walao so scary the girl ghost's face and body so bloody I nearly fainted. But still its was fun to watch a ghost movie with friends who are like 3-4years older than me. ^^&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-4246984183351005366?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/4246984183351005366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/yesterday-de-stuff.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/4246984183351005366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/4246984183351005366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/yesterday-de-stuff.html' title='Yesterday de stuff~'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-8515511254401556337</id><published>2009-02-20T20:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T20:55:14.300-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Road Run</title><content type='html'>Today road run so ma fan. I vomit after drinking the mango(after the race). My friend didn't even think about running. He kao lui nia. He wait for the girl to run pass leh can say he sot sot de. Run so fast just to kao lui. Haiz, during the race I saw my sis around 3km+ for her. And 5km+ for me around the corner of wawasan 2 the padang there. Saw someone slide down too. Good for my sis she didn vomit. Lucky I didn vomit infront of her when she was eating pizza. When I go there no pizza left. So chat lo, after awhile need to go to the dewan terbuka there for some prize medal giving thing. Chat with friends instead of listening to who won the medal. Rumah merah got 2nd!!! Thats about all I heard during the prize medal giving thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-8515511254401556337?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/8515511254401556337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/road-run.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/8515511254401556337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/8515511254401556337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/road-run.html' title='Road Run'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-1853479019240413392</id><published>2009-02-20T06:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T06:12:39.465-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Feb 20</title><content type='html'>Today Diabolo was fun I hit my nose like 3times in a roll. Atleast I can do something new but pretty hard so need to practice on the old ones 1st. Hope I can do better next week. After diabolo, I went to drink some water but drank finish it before class start. So during KHB the teacher don't let us go buy water. So recess lazy to buy until math(after PMO only can go buy) Very thirsty that time but the water have a funny taste like medicine its call Vitamin C thats what my friend told me since he went to buy it. After drinking it I didn fell thirsty because the "medicine" was tasteful too sweet~ During SN I only finish the nota so cham during PMO nearly got it rampas Haiz. Lucky got it back. Today got Math and SN. Yesterday got BC alot of homework  to do and all pass up on monday!!! Need to finish it tomorrow after the road run. Tomorrow road run, see can run how long.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-1853479019240413392?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/1853479019240413392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/feb-20.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/1853479019240413392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/1853479019240413392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/feb-20.html' title='Feb 20'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-3649443351975773213</id><published>2009-02-19T06:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T06:29:30.127-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yesterday forgot to write a bit busy with my mind</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I slide nearly fall down in the toilet. Because that auntie wash the toilet. We said "kakak cepat sikit boleh tak?" and she said"Boleh lah. Masuk Masuk." We enter and I think 5ppl ah not sure. All of us slip after another me 1st. The rest from the class above me. When go out the slipper stick to the floor so hard to get it up again nearly slip because of it. So thats yesterday. Today ran to koperasi not sure I spell right or wrong. Because need to buy some stuff and go kantin(chat with friends) And I bang some girl I keep seeing around the school(No doubt about it same school of course always see her) and I met one of my old classmate today. Didn't know she goes to the same school with me. 1month only notice her, she sure marah but who cares? I forgot about her until I saw her today. She very show off de. Stay away from her better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-3649443351975773213?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/3649443351975773213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/yesterday-forgot-to-write-bit-busy-with.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/3649443351975773213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/3649443351975773213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/yesterday-forgot-to-write-bit-busy-with.html' title='Yesterday forgot to write a bit busy with my mind'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-1492106063265505125</id><published>2009-02-17T06:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T06:20:59.543-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Though I write it everyday If I online that is</title><content type='html'>Today 17th of Feb. My 4th blog. Today in school was normal until rehat was over. Our teacher came late to class like the sejarah teacher but after rehat is the mathematic teacher. She came into class about 10-15minutes after the bell rang a new record this year. Well for our class's teacher that is. After mathematic was geografi and after geografi some sakai from 1K came into our class and slap my friend. My friend got angry and he pour like all the water in his water bottle like erm 200-400ml well he miss. He wet mytable nearly my books, he wet the boy infront of him the whole table,books,pencil case and his pants, and the boy infront of my his shoes,pants and table and the floor infront of his table but didn't wet the 1K students what bad accuracy. And my friend finally came to school again. She was sick for like a week. Well hope she get better soon because she is still sick. Wonder why she came to school if she is sick, she should stay at home and rest but maybe her house is boring beside the comp. Oh well good news is I don't need to bring her her homework for now. Thats for today~~~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-1492106063265505125?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/1492106063265505125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/though-i-write-it-everyday-if-i-online.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/1492106063265505125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/1492106063265505125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/though-i-write-it-everyday-if-i-online.html' title='Though I write it everyday If I online that is'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-8358804793163838294</id><published>2009-02-16T07:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T07:52:15.831-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentine Day</title><content type='html'>Feb 14th&lt;br /&gt;Lazy to open comp that day so write it today.&lt;br /&gt;      On valentine day I did nth but 13th of Feb a day before 14th Feb, I gave a flower to a girl. For no reason actually. But everyone else including my friends have the wrong idea. Oh well who can blame them? Not me of course. I gave it to her because the girl I want to give didn't went to school so i gave it to another girl. So thats how it goes wrong oh well. Don't really care about it. The truth was I wanted to give it to a girl that didn't went to school so I have it to another girl. And everyone else got the wrong idea so not sure what to do next. Oh well might as well forget it. Haiz so bored now. I gave her another rose on valentine same reason. Have fun everyone!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-8358804793163838294?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/8358804793163838294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/valentine-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/8358804793163838294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/8358804793163838294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/valentine-day.html' title='Valentine Day'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-5676164730744472638</id><published>2009-02-06T05:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T05:33:43.695-08:00</updated><title type='text'>School So Busy</title><content type='html'>School starts about 1month ago and I don't know why I like going to school now. Last year I hate going to school until the last few weeks I only like to go. Now I don't know why I start to hate it starting this week(Monday) I started hating again because a lot of stuffs to do. Like kokurikulum, Sukan, homework, PJK(because the changing part) and Teachers they keep shooting home works at us so I dont have much time to online starting maybe this week. I like going to school for only 2reason 1 I can see  alot 2 I can see my friends. And 2reason I hate goin to school 1 The teachers give a lot of home works 2 I cant talk with friends during class. So very busy because I only start as a form1 and with sukan kokurikulum and others stuffs My sleep is like 6-7hours only or less. So busy. I want holiday liao!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-5676164730744472638?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/5676164730744472638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/school-so-busy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/5676164730744472638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/5676164730744472638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/school-so-busy.html' title='School So Busy'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6489476869224296003.post-4416870905021819567</id><published>2009-02-04T06:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T08:03:34.999-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Start In a New School</title><content type='html'>This year I am going to be 13 but still acting like a kid haha don't know why thought. I still think about her still. Even though we are not in the same school. I still think about her. Its been like a month since school started and I haven seen her once. I wish I can see her soon because just think about her is no good. I hope I can see her soon because thinking about her make my heart hurts I guess I shouldn't ever see her because now my heart is still thinking about her. I should not have met her and I should not have know her because now I am hurt in my heart and I cant think about anything else beside her for the past few weeks. Its fun to hang out with friends but even though my friends are with me I still think about her. So weird I should forget her but I cant. I should not think about her because I cant do much just by thinking about her. And I know I wont be able to see her because its school now. I think I should just forget about her as soon as I can(If I can that is).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6489476869224296003-4416870905021819567?l=lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/feeds/4416870905021819567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/new-start-in-new-school.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/4416870905021819567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6489476869224296003/posts/default/4416870905021819567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovehurtsitstrue.blogspot.com/2009/02/new-start-in-new-school.html' title='New Start In a New School'/><author><name>Pul Tatt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16534605201234216850</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
