I'm going to be away from these mean internet streets and therefore, posting even less. I'm once again studying. Save my corner on these busy streets!x
Sunday, June 5, 2011
TTYL.
I'm going to be away from these mean internet streets and therefore, posting even less. I'm once again studying. Save my corner on these busy streets!x
A Story In 6 Words
I got this off Paulo Coelho's blog at www.pauolocoelho@blogspot.com. I think it's really cool!
Hemingway once wrote a story in just six words (“For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”) and is said to have called it his best work.
WIRED asked several writers to do the same. Here are some examples:
With bloody hands, I say good-bye.
- Frank Miller
I’m your future, child. Don’t cry.
- Stephen Baxter
The baby’s blood type? Human, mostly.
- Orson Scott Card
Mine said: Laughter, the shortest distance between two.
My friend's said: I'll only live once, through you.
Some clever ones from commenters were:
Mike: There was love, and still is.
Casey: Loss, mourning, learning- life goes on.
Victor_Sokovin: New Address. White House. We can.
Death in PAris, c’est la Vie!!!
natalia: Gave him my soul-he left
MarieCharisma: God, I think I’m an atheist
Corine Hoogerheide-van den Akker: But nevertheless..why shouldn’t I try?
Heimo Kruschinski: The coffee is empty. As always.
I heard...
"If you don't tell a dude; "Not now, not then, not in a week, not if my mother dies, not if your mother dies. What I want to stress is that I have absolutely no interest in you whatsoever and these feelings will never change", you may end up with him confusing persistence and annoyance.
I'm just saying.
L.O.L! Quote from Dr. J on one of the funniest blogs...www.singleblackmale.org
I'm just saying.
L.O.L! Quote from Dr. J on one of the funniest blogs...www.singleblackmale.org
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Why Are There Bubbles In Aero?
This advert has to be in my top 5 fave ads of all time. I never get tired of watching it and I always have a smile on my face while I watch it. Unconciously.
Two commenters from you-tube said:
@blauviolet ... it's at the ending when the voice comes on i actually break out of the trance and say to myself "what was the ad all about again?" and i replay and the same thing happens.
-ml210378
Every time that ad came on I would force myself to listen to what he says....it never worked hehe....damn you hot man, because of you I will never know the reason for the bubbles in Aero
-blauviolet
Spot. On.
Lol.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Favourite Things
PHENOMENAL WOMAN
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
-MAYA ANGELOU
I've always loved this poem
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
-MAYA ANGELOU
I've always loved this poem
From The Archives...
(Another iPod find)
From time to time, people ask me questions that cause me pause. Granted these questions range from the daft “When are you getting married” (When you take Minding Yo Business free online course) to the justified like "What the hell are you doing here?!" when I once again get lost and land on private property (surprisingly frequent occurrence). Still, from time to time I receive an inquiry
so disturbing that I myself a forced to ponder....
Recently such an inquiry was posed, it didn't arrive hiding under the
banner of concern or the giggling shackles of jest, this was a genuinely curious inquiry. The questioner wanted to know Why I am the way I am. With the number of
times I have been asked this you would think I'd have a ready answer
for the pseudo-intellectual minds clearly struggling to dissect this conundrum of a matter. I am usually tempted to repeat some banal lines from Angelou’s
extraordinary ‘Pheomenal Woman’ poem but the mockery I fear I will see in the eyes of my questioner when I get to this line “...its in the span of my hips..” bids me pause. #WiderHipsWanted.
(Btw, I am typing this on my iPod on the train and a deaf lady is sign language-ing her husband across the carriage. I just realised that if you are hearing impaired,
gossiping in public might be a tad difficult. I’m sad for them, it kind of sucks...as that's one of the special things about marriage, a constant gossip partner. I can’t wait! Lol.).
iDigress.
“So, why am I the way I am?” I thought to myself after the inquiries became insistent. I believe the closest thing to an answer I can give is; my childhood. Seriously, what were my chances of coming out a regular human being when at the age of eight (8), I was lead backing vocalist of the ‘choir’, consisting of one disturbingly silly 6 year old, mischievous 4 and a tyrannical two? We proudly croaked along to our uncle-turned -rapper’s (eventually turned cultist) terribly mediocre ramblings of daily happenings at our house, uncleverly disguised as rhymes. No, 50 Cent is NOT my uncle.
From time to time, people ask me questions that cause me pause. Granted these questions range from the daft “When are you getting married” (When you take Minding Yo Business free online course) to the justified like "What the hell are you doing here?!" when I once again get lost and land on private property (surprisingly frequent occurrence). Still, from time to time I receive an inquiry
so disturbing that I myself a forced to ponder....
Recently such an inquiry was posed, it didn't arrive hiding under the
banner of concern or the giggling shackles of jest, this was a genuinely curious inquiry. The questioner wanted to know Why I am the way I am. With the number of
times I have been asked this you would think I'd have a ready answer
for the pseudo-intellectual minds clearly struggling to dissect this conundrum of a matter. I am usually tempted to repeat some banal lines from Angelou’s
extraordinary ‘Pheomenal Woman’ poem but the mockery I fear I will see in the eyes of my questioner when I get to this line “...its in the span of my hips..” bids me pause. #WiderHipsWanted.
(Btw, I am typing this on my iPod on the train and a deaf lady is sign language-ing her husband across the carriage. I just realised that if you are hearing impaired,
gossiping in public might be a tad difficult. I’m sad for them, it kind of sucks...as that's one of the special things about marriage, a constant gossip partner. I can’t wait! Lol.).
iDigress.
“So, why am I the way I am?” I thought to myself after the inquiries became insistent. I believe the closest thing to an answer I can give is; my childhood. Seriously, what were my chances of coming out a regular human being when at the age of eight (8), I was lead backing vocalist of the ‘choir’, consisting of one disturbingly silly 6 year old, mischievous 4 and a tyrannical two? We proudly croaked along to our uncle-turned -rapper’s (eventually turned cultist) terribly mediocre ramblings of daily happenings at our house, uncleverly disguised as rhymes. No, 50 Cent is NOT my uncle.
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