<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' version='2.0'><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Sun, 13 Sep 2009 07:18:34 +0000</lastBuildDate><title>araalinas:  pray to your pagan gods</title><description>Character building...  How did I get here and what was I thinking?  After sleepless nights and days with no food, I've decided to stay.  For better or for worse I'm committed to this little island...  at least until June 2006.    I don't want to leave with a bad taste in my mouth, so I'm relying on the power of positive thinking to get me through.</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>108</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-115052721189532082</guid><pubDate>Sat, 17 Jun 2006 06:36:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-06-16T20:30:38.376-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Araalinas%20is%20DUNZO.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Araalinas%20is%20DUNZO.png" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right folks, &lt;b&gt;araalinas&lt;/b&gt; is shuttin' down.  (GASP!!! Oh, the horror!!!)  Araali (me) is no longer &lt;i&gt;n as&lt;/i&gt; (American Samoa). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'M SHUTTIN' IT DOWN!!!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Movin' on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The countdown is over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've flown the coop,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;left the Rock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was good while it lasted, but now I'm past it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At approximately 11:20pm on the 8th of June, I left American Samoa with no plans to return.  As most of you already know, I've accepted a teaching position back in Uganda, where I taugh for three years before going to American Samoa.  I've been a bit out of the loop for the past week, not having regular internet access.  I spend the weekend in Hawaii, and now I'm back in rural North West Florida.  As sad as it might sound, it is "home, sweet home."  God, my visits home are never very sweet, but it is a necessary ritual:  gotta see the family, gotta see the friends.  I'm only setting up temporary camp in the panhandle.  I'll be heading back to Africa sometime in July; I'm looking at the 10th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm shutting down araalinas (GASP!!! Oh, the horror!!!).  This blog is "dunzo," but I'm setting up a new blog to chronicle my Florida adventure, and then one to keep you posted on my goin' ons in Uganda.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forever remain "araali," and you better believe that the prayers continue to be lifted up to the pagan gods.  But are they payin' any attention?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://araalinusa.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;font size=+3 color=FF6699&gt;araalinusa.blogspot.com&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check it out, y'all.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-115052721189532082?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/06/thats-right-folks-araalinas-is-shuttin.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114976464350030551</guid><pubDate>Thu, 08 Jun 2006 10:38:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-06-16T19:27:53.246-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Pink-Chest.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+4 color=FF6699&gt;PINK&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size=+3&gt;is the new bod&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size=+2&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ouch!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt; As a person who &lt;i&gt;always&lt;/i&gt; wears sunscreen, I'm kicking myself.  I fly out tomorrow night, and since I was recently asked by someone (who will remain nameless), "Is there no sun in Samoa?" I made an attempt to do something about the icky pasty color of my skin that normally is not exposed to the sun.  In other words, I caved in to peer pressure, made an unhealthy decision, and exposed my skin to the harmful rays of the sun without protection. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Peer pressure's got a hold on you.&lt;br /&gt;Peer pressure, it's the thing to do.&lt;br /&gt;Peer pressure, what a strange energy.&lt;br /&gt;Peer pressure, won't you set me free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;i&gt;Teen II:  The Competition&lt;/i&gt;, sixth grade play, 1988)&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where is Cindy when I need her?  I should've ignored the taunting of others and followed the advice of Cindy Crawford.  Cindy, in her heyday as host of MTV's House of Stlye once pushed fake tans or being pale because she said everyone in the fashion industry knows how unhealthy real tans are.  How could I forget the wisdon of Cindy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I hope is that by tomorrow, the pink will fade into a rich Coppertone tan.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A guy can dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neglect to apply sunscreen...  Never again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114976464350030551?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/06/pink-is-new-bod-ouch-as-person-who.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114965629427143835</guid><pubDate>Wed, 07 Jun 2006 04:31:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-06-06T18:07:42.966-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+4 color=red&gt;06-06-06&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Spooky%20Face.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Spooky%20Face.png" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size=+2&gt;Have you ever had the feeling that you were being watched, or glowered at menacingly by a spooky face while your are out having a good time with you friends at a neighborhood hole-in-the-wall on a Friday night?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I have. Take a a look at that face that showed up in a photo taken of me at &lt;b&gt;Players' Club&lt;/b&gt; last Friday night.  She does not look very happy with me.  Nicole noticed it and showed it to me on Saturday.  It weirded me out a bit, but then I took a closer look last night, and I'm not convinced it's anything out of the ordinary.  The logical explanation would be that it's a reflection from one of the television screens on the walls of the fine establishment.  It would just be quite a coincidence that such a pissed-off face would be staring in my direction at exactly the moment that the photo was snapped; some might even say ironic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicole and I are not taking this possible brush with the paranormal lightly.  We are going back to &lt;b&gt;Players' Club&lt;/b&gt; tonight to "investigate."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.the-atlantic-paranormal-society.com/"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/rotoghost_03.gif" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114965629427143835?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/06/06-06-06-have-you-ever-had-feeling_06.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114958723624719997</guid><pubDate>Tue, 06 Jun 2006 09:08:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-06-05T22:48:41.106-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+4 color=red&gt;8XL!&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/8XL.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/320/8XL.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size=+4&gt;That's&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;XXXXXXXXL!&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Me%20in%208XL.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/320/Me%20in%208XL.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size=+2&gt;You can't make this stuff up.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/I%20am%208XL.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/320/I%20am%208XL.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Celeste flew out and left me last night.  The sad reality is that we are highly unlikely to ever see each other again.  She's going back to Texas, and I will soon be going back to Uganda.  It was fun while it lasted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Celeste introduced me to many things over the past 9 months.  We shared many experiences.  She's the type of girl who can get a man to say and do things he never imagined he would ever say or do.  Honestly, Celeste, who talks like that?  Celeste is the one who introduced me to the Samoan 8X t-shirt.  They sell them at our favorite little shop on the island, J-Lynn Tees.  Come on.  Have you ever seen an 8X before?  Did you ever know that they existed?  I, honestly, did not even know that shirt sizes went above XXXL.  To me that was plenty big.  Well, this is Samoa, and there are quite a few 8Xers running around.  Well, maybe not running.  Could you imaging that?  It is true that the 8Xer is not as common as the 6Xer (which itself is hella large).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At a bargain, you can purchase an 8XL t-shirt for only $12.95.  I think that the shirts are being sold at a loss considering the amount of fabric needed to produce such a massive shirt.  You could provide t-shirts for average-sized family of four with the amount of material it takes to produce one 8XL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 8XL t-shirt is a very handy item to have around the house because of its versatility.  You can:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;1.  Use it as a spare bedsheet.&lt;br /&gt;2.  Make a tent from it if you need extra sleeping space outside.&lt;br /&gt;3.  Use it parachute from an upstairs window incase of fire.&lt;br /&gt;4.  Make a hell of a lot of dust rags.&lt;br /&gt;5.  Use it as a throw rug.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be creative, and I bet you could come with you own unique use for the 8XL t-shirt.  The list goes on and on.&lt;/blockquote&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I already miss you C.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Safe jouney.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114958723624719997?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/06/8xl-thats-xxxxxxxxl-you-cant-make-this.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114924705329838424</guid><pubDate>Fri, 02 Jun 2006 10:21:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-06-02T00:25:37.073-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+3&gt;Tony Snow does&lt;/font&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size=+4&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;u&gt;N-O-T&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size=+3&gt;want to hug the tar baby.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.crooksandliars.com/2006/05/16.html"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/snow.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size=+4&gt;Hmmm. . .&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/tar%20baby.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/tar%20baby.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+3&gt;I &lt;font color=red&gt;&lt;3&lt;/font&gt; Brer Rabbit!&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But are references to Brer Rabbit stories, American plantation folklore, appropriate during a White House press conference?  I'm just asking.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would really like to watch &lt;i&gt;Song of The South&lt;/i&gt; again just to see what all the fuss is about.  I'd also like to take a ride of Splash Mountain.  It's been a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/splash_characters05.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size=+4 color=FF6699&gt;&lt;center&gt;Zip a dee doo dah!&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114924705329838424?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/06/tony-snow-does-n-o-t-want-to-hug-tar.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114880548256429101</guid><pubDate>Sun, 28 May 2006 08:25:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-05-27T21:38:02.733-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+4 color=green&gt;WTF?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Slut%20on%20the%20Prowl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Slut%20on%20the%20Prowl.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;font size=+2 color=green&gt;&lt;center&gt;Sluts Songs are on Heavy Rotation&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;A real malaya is on the prowl.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=green&gt;(&lt;i&gt;Purrrrrrr!&lt;/i&gt;)&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What curse word do you use the most?&lt;/b&gt; Curse word?  Who talks like that?  Ok, since you've backed me into a corner, it's probably f@#k:  the worst word ever (according to my mom).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you own an iPod?&lt;/b&gt; I own a little Shuffle that I love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Who on your Myspace “Top 8” do you talk to the most?&lt;/b&gt; Nicole Gail.  I live with the bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What time is your alarm clock set for?&lt;/b&gt; 5:30am because I want to get up and go for an early-morning job.  The reality is that I usually do not get my bootay off the sofa (I sold my bed already) until 6:30.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What color is your room?&lt;/b&gt; It is a sterile cream.  Every room in the effin' place is the same color.  How boring is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Flip flops or sneakers?&lt;/b&gt; I'm pretty opposed to flip-flops unless I'm using a public shower or at the beach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Would you rather take the picture or be in the picture?&lt;/b&gt; Be in the picture.  Super Model Documentary Hour!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What was the last movie you watched?&lt;/b&gt; I'm proudly ashamed to admit that it was South Park: Bigger, Longer and Uncut.  I wish I could say it was Reefer Madness, my present favorite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do any of your friends have children?&lt;/b&gt; Of course.  Everyone is popping out babies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Has anyone ever called you lazy?&lt;/b&gt; I've never heard anyone call me that.  (Nicole, calling me that now does not count.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you ever take medication to help you fall asleep faster?&lt;/b&gt; Hell no!  I HATE MEDICINE!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What CD is currently in your CD player?&lt;/b&gt; I don't own a CD player anymore.  My &lt;i&gt;Slut Songs&lt;/i&gt; playlist is currently being played.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you prefer regular or chocolate milk?&lt;/b&gt; I prefer my milk like my lovers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Has anyone told you a secret this week?&lt;/b&gt; Yes.  Shocking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever given someone a hickey?&lt;/b&gt; No.  Hickeys are really gross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Who was the last person to call you?&lt;/b&gt; The director of my school.  (No, Nicole, calling me now as I type does not count.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you think people talk about you behind your back?&lt;/b&gt; Absolutely.  It's karma.  I would not expect anything less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Did you watch cartoons as a child?&lt;/b&gt; Yes.  They profoundly influenced my development.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How many siblings do you have?&lt;/b&gt; Five.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are you shy around the opposite sex?&lt;/b&gt; No.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What movie do you know every line to?&lt;/b&gt; Little Shop of Horrors, Rent, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Pike isn't a name.  It's a fish).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you own any band t-shirts?&lt;/b&gt; I'm not into that BS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What is your favorite salad dressing?&lt;/b&gt; I'm not inot that BS either.  I prefer a nice sqeeze of lemon or lime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you read for fun?&lt;/b&gt; Yes.  However, I do it in spurts.  Right now I'm in a slump.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you cry a lot?&lt;/b&gt; I never cry.  I wish I did.  I really need to.  I think I'd feel better if I were to have a good cry.  I try to make myself cry sometime, but I've not been successful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Who was the last person to text message you?&lt;/b&gt; Kyazze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you have a desktop computer or a laptop?&lt;/b&gt; Laptop.  I &lt;font color=red&gt;&lt;3&lt;/font&gt; my Mac.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are you currently wanting any piercings or tattoo?&lt;/b&gt; I'm always wanting a piercing or tattoo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What is the weather like?&lt;/b&gt; Windy and cool.  That is surprising.  Yesterday was the coolest day for me yet in American Samoa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Would you ever date someone covered in tattoos? Like every inch covered?&lt;/b&gt;  Probably not.  Not sexy.  &lt;b&gt;Lots of tattoos that are just black (I hate colored tattoos) that are well done on a nice body?&lt;/b&gt;  Sho' nuff would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Is sex before marriage wrong?&lt;/b&gt; Supercalafragalisticexbealadocious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;When was the last time you slept on the floor?&lt;/b&gt; August 2005.  I moved into a new apartment before I bought a bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How many hours of sleep do you need to function?&lt;/b&gt; I usually get between five and six.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are you in love or lust?&lt;/b&gt; &lt;font color=red&gt;LOVE!&lt;/font&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are your days full and fast-paced?&lt;/b&gt; In American Samoa?  Are you kidding me?  Hopefully that will all end in a couple of weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you pay attention to calories on the back of packages?&lt;/b&gt; Usually.  I really look at percentage of calories from fat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How old will you be turning on your next birthday?&lt;/b&gt; 31.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are you picky about spelling and grammar?&lt;/b&gt; I would not say "picky."  That would leave me wide open for hypocrisy and criticisim.  I appreciate the craft of good grammar, and I try abide by the rules I know.  I, however, believe that style is more important than being gramatically correct.  My high school business teacher said it best, "Write to express not impress."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever been to Six Flags?&lt;/b&gt; Yes.  Several times.  The Georgia Cyclone is my favorite roller coaster anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you get along better with the same or opposite sex?&lt;/b&gt; My best friends have always been female.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you like Cottage Cheese?&lt;/b&gt; I don't dislike it, but I don't remember ever buying it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you sleep on your side, tummy, or back?&lt;/b&gt; It depends.  I'm a switch sleeper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Have you ever bid for something on eBay?&lt;/b&gt; Yes.  I used to do it more in the late 90's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you enjoy giving hugs?&lt;/b&gt; "Drugs are better than hugs"--Karen Walker.  I've learned to appreciate a good hug.  I used to shy away from them, but I actually look forward to them now, especially from my mother and best friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What song did you last sing out loud?&lt;/b&gt; Promiscuous by Nelly Furtado and Timbaland.  I've got my Slut Songs playist going on iTunes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What is your favorite TV show?&lt;/b&gt; Veronica Mars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Which celebrity dead or alive would you want to have lunch with?&lt;/b&gt; Drew Barrymore.  I &lt;font color=red&gt;&lt;3&lt;/font&gt; her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Last time you had butterflies in your stomach?&lt;/b&gt; When I told my employer last November that I was going to end my contract five months early to take a job in Uganda.  I ended up staying.  My contract ends in one week from today!  I will be taking the position in Uganda; they held it for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What one thing do you wish you had?&lt;/b&gt; Less body hair?  I don't know!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Favourite lyrics?&lt;/b&gt; &lt;i&gt;It takes two to make a thing go right.  It takes two to make it out of site&lt;/i&gt;.  Of songs from both Seduction and Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/72945435@N00/154637302/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/45/154637302_9024bc7ace_t.jpg" width="100" height="75" alt="Cut it out.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114880548256429101?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/05/wtf-sluts-songs-are-on-heavy-rotation.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114871215866679997</guid><pubDate>Sat, 27 May 2006 04:18:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-05-26T19:42:38.816-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+4&gt;Multi-Talented&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Multi-Talented.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Multi-Talented.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Me.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I'm a jack of all trades but a master of none.  I can do sooooooo many things, but I don't do much very well.  I've studied five languages, but I'd only say I speak two of them really well.  One of them &lt;i&gt;kinda&lt;/i&gt; well.  I could get by with two of them if I were ever stranded in the country (or area of a country) where they are spoken.  I've worked in diverse sectors like education, community development, customer care, and sales.  I know tidbits of information about almost every subject.  In the past ten years, I've lived in South America for two years, North American for four years, Africa for three years, and a Pacific Island for almost one year.  My university transcript is a hodgepodge of courses of various subject areas from massage therapy to genetics of epilepsy.  (Yes, I did finish a degree.)  I pride myself on being well-rouned, but when it comes down to it, I don't know much about anything.  Once in a job interview, the interviewer looked at my résumé and said, "You are too across the board."  He advised me to focus on something.  I've tried to do that.  I really have.  I cannot count the times I pick something I was going to focus on and become the &lt;i&gt;world expert&lt;/i&gt; on it.  If I ever began my pursuit to &lt;i&gt;expert&lt;/i&gt;, it ended as soon as I found something better to do.  That said, there are areas in which I excel. (Ya know what I mean.  No complaints so far.)  Let's add weaving palm fronts together to make a plate to my list of things I can do. . . &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/My%20First%20Weave.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/My%20First%20Weave.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;. . . sort of.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114871215866679997?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/05/multi-talented-me.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114846182533730891</guid><pubDate>Wed, 24 May 2006 07:18:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-05-23T22:51:40.896-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;font size=+4 color=blue&gt;&lt;center&gt;Good Lord!&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/tim-tim.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/tim-tim.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font color=blue&gt;The rubbish you can find on the net these days.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=blue&gt;&lt;center&gt;Scary.  Very Scary.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thought of my hand on the back of Tom Cruise's head... &lt;i&gt;is that bad&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Katie Holmes's dress color does &lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt; look good on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All around, I'd say this is not a flattering photo.  I'm appalled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dear roommate and friend, &lt;a href="http://nicolegail.blogspot.com"&gt;Nicole&lt;/a&gt;, appears to have:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a) too much time on her hands &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;b) an &lt;a href="http://nicolegail.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-adore-him.html "&gt;unhealthy obsession with Tom Cruise&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;c) no &lt;a href="http://nicolegail.blogspot.com/2006/03/party-like-its-1994.html"&gt;fashion sense&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;(Click on links for proof of allegations.)&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, my friends, it appears that I'm Tom's new brainwashed bitch.  I swear to you though, no matter how much medication they put me on, I will not have his baby.  Or L. Ron Hubbard's for that matter.  No.  No.  NO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+4&gt;He's got a &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Ticket%20to%20ride%20II.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Ticket%20to%20ride%20II.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ticket to ride II&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so I did not know that my friend, with whom I'll be visiting, did not live on Oahu, but Maui.  (Yeah, yeah.  I know.)  I had to buy an additional ticket.  Now, my friends, I'll be heading to Maui on the 9th of June.  Yay!!!  I'm going to spend a long weekend there, and then it's off to Florida on the 12th.  Woe is me.  Life is so difficult.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114846182533730891?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/05/good-lord-rubbish-you-can-find-on-net.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114828900361407234</guid><pubDate>Mon, 22 May 2006 08:51:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-05-21T22:19:13.100-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;center&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font size=+4 color=red&gt;"Natalie Maines is &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one of those &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;people born &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;middle &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;finger &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;first.&lt;/u&gt;"&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Dixie%20Chicks%20Time.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Dixie%20Chicks%20Time.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Just so you know, we're ashamed the President of the United States is from Texas," Maines 2003.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I apologized for disrespecting the office of the president [in 2003].  But I don't feel that way anymore. I don't feel he is owed any respect whatsoever," Maines 2006.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Takin%20the%20Long%20Way.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/200/Takin%20the%20Long%20Way.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;i&gt;Out 23rd May, y'all!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114828900361407234?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/05/natalie-maines-is-one-of-those-people.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114828151462172179</guid><pubDate>Mon, 22 May 2006 06:19:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-05-21T20:14:07.600-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+4 color=red&gt;MELANCHOLY&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+2&gt;That's my mood y'all&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has been a very pensive Sunday.  It has been quite painful, physically and emotionally.  I've had so many thoughts flying around my head, and at the same time, I've been suffering from a migraine for the past two days.  My ass has been planted on the sofa for two days now, and I've slept more the past two days than I did the past week.  The headaches left me feeling nauseated.  I've also been frustrated because there was so much that I wanted to get done, but not having my eyes closed or my head pressed against the arm of the sofa would bring back the pain and sick feeling.  Blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got an email from my friend Leana today.  I've not heard from here in a little over a year.  She's in Lisbon right not.  (I wish I were in Lisbon right now.)  This has been a very tough year for her.  She is an amazing woman with many talents, everyone is her friend, and she makes amazing cakes.  (I love cake.)  He world was turned upside down a couple of years ago, and it keeps flipping.  She definitely is not where she ever planned to be at this point in her life.  Her email did not sound so happy, and I really wish there were something I could do for her; however, I'm on an island in the South Pacific, and she is on the Iberian peninsula.  My options are limited.  I'll send her some positive thoughts now and a email later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also watched episode 20 of this season's Will &amp; Grace.  (Remember we get everything late down here.)  It was the episode that they have Will's father's funeral.  Season eight has not been the best one for Will &amp; Grace, but there have been some great episodes, and this was one of them.  It sucks to have someone close to you died.  It really sucks to have someone close to you die when the last time you saw him, you said something unkind to him.  There was a religious ad campaign on television back in the 80's that said, "If you love them, tell them."  It was too corny for me at the time, but as I've gotten older and spent more and more time away from people whom I love very much, I've come to appreciate the importance of that simple message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The month of May has come to be a time of change in my life.  Big life changes have happened to me in May.  Big (huge) and not always good.  Sometimes really bad (awful).  Maybe I should learn more about astrology and find out why this month holds so much significance to me.  Maybe it's just coincidence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;__________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Back when I was a child, before life removed all the innocence&lt;br /&gt;My father would lift me high and dance with my mother and me and then&lt;br /&gt;Spin me around 'til I fell asleep&lt;br /&gt;Then up the stairs he would carry me&lt;br /&gt;And I knew for sure I was loved&lt;br /&gt;If I could get another chance, another walk, another dance with him&lt;br /&gt;I'd play a song that would never, ever end&lt;br /&gt;How I'd love, love, love&lt;br /&gt;To dance with my father again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I and my mother would disagree&lt;br /&gt;To get my way, I would run from her to him&lt;br /&gt;He'd make me laugh just to comfort me&lt;br /&gt;Then finally make me do just what my mama said&lt;br /&gt;Later that night when I was asleep&lt;br /&gt;He left a dollar under my sheet&lt;br /&gt;Never dreamed that he would be gone from me&lt;br /&gt;If I could steal one final glance, one final step, one final dance with him&lt;br /&gt;I'd play a song that would never, ever end&lt;br /&gt;'Cause I'd love, love, love&lt;br /&gt;To dance with my father again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I'd listen outside her door&lt;br /&gt;And I'd hear how my mother cried for him&lt;br /&gt;I pray for her even more than me&lt;br /&gt;I pray for her even more than me&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm praying for much too much&lt;br /&gt;But could you send back the only man she loved&lt;br /&gt;I know you don't do it usually&lt;br /&gt;But dear Lord she's dying&lt;br /&gt;To dance with my father again&lt;br /&gt;Every night I fall asleep and this is all I ever dream&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Luther.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/200/Luther.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=right&gt;(April 20, 1951 – July 1, 2005)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114828151462172179?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/05/melancholy-thats-my-mood-yall-this-has.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114808521225954393</guid><pubDate>Fri, 19 May 2006 21:43:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-05-19T14:08:53.430-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+3 color=FF6699&gt;Today my mood is Pink&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/pink%20rock%20band%202.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/pink%20rock%20band%202.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot say that I've ever been a huge &lt;font color=FF6699&gt;Pink&lt;/font&gt; fan.  I &lt;i&gt;can&lt;/i&gt; sing along to most of her songs, and she can definitely get my &lt;i&gt;bootay&lt;/i&gt; on the dance floor.  However, I don't own any of her music.  (Her first cd, &lt;i&gt;Can't Take Me Home&lt;/i&gt;, was pretty good.  But the cover art?  When I saw it, I swore to myself that I would never contaminate my cd collection with anything so ridiculous.  Yeah, I judge books by their covers too.)   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't usually use my blog as a political platform.  I don't rant about being a heartless conservative nor a tree-hugging liberal.  I don't recall if I've ever addressed any specific issues on my blog; however, I do not suffer from lack of opinion.  Maybe I will post a diatribe one day if the mood hits me, but that's not my mood nor the mood of my blog today.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who has personally spoken to me and has taken the time to get to know me even a little knows about my hopes, my frustrations and my fears.  I'm a simple &lt;i&gt;fella&lt;/i&gt; with a lot on his mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All that said, I'm going to bring both &lt;font color=FF6699&gt;Pink&lt;/font&gt; and politics to my blog, &lt;font color=FF6699&gt;Pinkpolitics&lt;/font&gt;.  (Humor me.)  I think that she is right on with this one, and it's a pretty good song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;font color=FF6699&gt;Dear Mr. President&lt;br /&gt;Come take a walk with me&lt;br /&gt;Let's pretend we're just two people and&lt;br /&gt;You're not better than me&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to ask you some questions if we can speak honestly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street&lt;br /&gt;Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep&lt;br /&gt;What do you feel when you look in the mirror&lt;br /&gt;Are you proud&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you sleep while the rest of us cry&lt;br /&gt;How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye&lt;br /&gt;How do you walk with your head held high&lt;br /&gt;Can you even look me in the eye&lt;br /&gt;And tell me why&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Mr. President&lt;br /&gt;Were you a lonely boy&lt;br /&gt;Are you a lonely boy&lt;br /&gt;Are you a lonely boy&lt;br /&gt;How can you say&lt;br /&gt;No child is left behind&lt;br /&gt;We're not dumb and we're not blind&lt;br /&gt;They're all sitting in your cells&lt;br /&gt;While you pay the road to hell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What kind of father would take his own daughter's rights away&lt;br /&gt;And what kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can only imagine what the first lady has to say&lt;br /&gt;You've come a long way from whiskey and cocaine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you sleep while the rest of us cry&lt;br /&gt;How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye&lt;br /&gt;How do you walk with your head held high&lt;br /&gt;Can you even look me in the eye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you bout hard work&lt;br /&gt;Minimum wage with a baby on the way&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you bout hard work&lt;br /&gt;Rebuilding your house after the bombs took them away&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you bout hard work&lt;br /&gt;Building a bed out of a cardboard box&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you bout hard work&lt;br /&gt;Hard work&lt;br /&gt;Hard work&lt;br /&gt;You don't know nothing bout hard work&lt;br /&gt;Hard work&lt;br /&gt;Hard work&lt;br /&gt;Oh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you sleep at night&lt;br /&gt;How do you walk with your head held high&lt;br /&gt;Dear Mr. President&lt;br /&gt;You'd never take a walk with me&lt;br /&gt;Would you&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Pink%20small.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/200/Pink%20small.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114808521225954393?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/05/today-my-mood-is-pink-i-cannot-say.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114802901130413115</guid><pubDate>Fri, 19 May 2006 08:20:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-05-18T21:59:27.576-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+4&gt;This my friends...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Ticket%20to%20Ride.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Ticket%20to%20Ride.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;is a plane ticket!!!&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size=+2&gt;(At least it is the receipt for my e-ticket to Hawaii.  Just as good.)&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicole picked it up for me from the travel agent.  International flights only leave the island two nights per week, Thursday and Sunday.  Hawaiian Air is the only carrier.  This means they can charge whatever the hell they want and treat their passengers however the hell they please.  We have no choice but to fly with them.  I guess because American Samoa is &lt;i&gt;only&lt;/i&gt; a US Territory, they can treat it as either a domestic or international destination depending on which is more convenient for them.  When it comes to the baggage allowance, they treat it like a domestic destination, and passengers are only allowed 50 pounds per piece of luggage.  However, if you want to book a one-way flight on-line, good luck.  American Samoa is considered an "international destination" for that, so on-line booking is not allowed:  hence the travel agent mentioned above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good news is I'm leaving this island on the 8th of June, only &lt;b&gt;21&lt;/b&gt; days from the time of this entry!  I'm still trying to work out my plans for what I'm going to do once I reach Hawaii.  Right now, the idea is to fly on over to Maui to visit a friend I've not seen in y.e.a.r.s.  We've kept in touch with the occasional email, but it will be so fantastic to sit and talk with him face to face.  We were housemates my freshman year at university way back in 1994.  He was a tremendous friend who positively influenced me and helped me have a great first-year experience at FSU.  It is funny the people we end up maintaining contact with and those who drift away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so ready to jump ship.  Right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;Wrap it up!&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114802901130413115?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/05/this-my-friends.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114786253445656406</guid><pubDate>Wed, 17 May 2006 08:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-05-17T19:18:11.333-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;a href="http://media.putfile.com/Coin-Slot-Cream"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+4&gt;"Kick coin slot &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dryness &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to the curb!"&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Coin%20Slot.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Coin%20Slot.png" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/My%20Coin%20Slot.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/My%20Coin%20Slot.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+2&gt;Hey!  How'd that get there?&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/font&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The side of my coin slot got a little graffitied last night.  I've toyed with the idea of a tattoo for years, and I've gone back and forth.  I remember very distinctly making the decision one after noon in 1997 as I cut across the field by the Leach Center at FSU campus to never get a tattoo.  I am not the same person I was in 1997 in many ways.  I'm quite more fond of the me now.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the Samoan tattoo designs.  Getting a tattoo was something that I really wanted to do before I left.  I put it off and put it off until I had to make a decision.  I'm glad I finally did it.  I like it a lot.  My mom is going to cry when she sees this.  (&lt;font color=red&gt;I love you!&lt;/font&gt;)  I designed it myself.  I wanted a sun (U r my &lt;font color=yellow&gt;Sunshine&lt;/font&gt;!) with triangle rays.  (When I'm stuck with a day that's grey and lonely, I just stick out my chin and grin and say:  "The sun'll come out tomorrow, so you gotta hang on 'til tomorrow come what may...")  I told the artist to just "Do yo' thang!" in the center, make it Samoan.  It is &lt;font color=blue&gt;b&lt;/font&gt;.&lt;font color=red&gt;e&lt;/font&gt;.&lt;font color=yellow&gt;a&lt;/font&gt;.&lt;font color=green&gt;u&lt;/font&gt;.&lt;font color=blue&gt;t&lt;/font&gt;.&lt;font color=red&gt;i&lt;/font&gt;.&lt;font color=yellow&gt;f&lt;/font&gt;.&lt;font color=green&gt;u&lt;/font&gt;.&lt;font color=blue&gt;l&lt;/font&gt;.  What is not beautiful is the hair I have grown at the base of my back.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/back%20hair.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/320/back%20hair.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;center&gt;(Back hair = Yuck!  Yuck!  Yuck!)&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=green&gt;GROSS&lt;/font&gt;!  I've never really paid attention to that area.  I really need to wax.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can be such a &lt;font color=FF6699&gt;baby&lt;/font&gt; sometimes.  Just ask Celeste.  Just asked the guy who gave me the tattoo.  (By the way, when I said that "I told him..." to do something, I mean that I communicated it the best way I could.  He really did not speak English, and I know no Samoan.)  They laughed and laughed.  No, I did not cry and cry or scream, moan or groan while being tattooed.  I did however tell him to turn off the machine every time he switched it on, and I could hear it whirr.  It was on and off three times.  I had no idea what it would feel like, and I expected the worst, and hearing the motor scared the @#$% out of me.  When I finally took in a deep breath and let him go, it was not that bad, just irritating.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, now I'm paranoid of doing something wrong with caring for it as it heals and it looking like &lt;i&gt;poo&lt;/i&gt;.  I'm doing what I can and taking advice from those in the know.  Getting it done was like lifting a weight off of my shoulders.  I'm very happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/L%20Lo%20Coin%20Slot%20lotion.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/200/L%20Lo%20Coin%20Slot%20lotion.png" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size=+2&gt;&lt;center&gt;Peace out coin slot dryness!&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;______________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For other Linsay Lohan news, check out this link:  &lt;a href="http://us.video.aol.com/video.full.adp?mode=0&amp;pmmsid=1647344&amp;restartUrl=http%3a%2f%2fus%2evideo%2eaol%2ecom%2fvideo%2eindex%2eadp%3fmode%3d1%26pmmsid%3d1647344&amp;mode=1"&gt;&lt;font color=red&gt;firecrotch&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114786253445656406?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/05/kick-coin-slot-dryness-to-curb-hey.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114777678359150282</guid><pubDate>Tue, 16 May 2006 10:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-05-16T00:04:51.330-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+3 color=99CCFF&gt;Lazy Lilly&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot have another week like last week.  I just could not make myself log into blogger and post.  It was not that I was uninspired.  I had so many things going round in my head that needed to come out, but I just did not have the motivation to spill.  I don't like to miss a day without posting, and I'm sure that on lazy days I could just post the results to yet another quiz (which I'll do later), but I don't want my blog to turn into that.  There is nothing wrong with posting quiz results (yes, another on is coming), but that is not the direction in which I want my blog to head.  I first started my blog to keep the folks at home posted on my where abouts and experiences.  That got boring.  This year, I decided that I wanted to use my blog as a creative outlet.  Instead of it being just a summary of my life, I wanted to express some of my thoughts, ideas, a perspective on anything that caught my interest.  Yes, this is the evolution of my randomness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok.  Now it is time for the quiz results.  This goes our to all the "fraters" out there:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://quiz.myyearbook.com/zenhex/quiz.php?id=9702"&gt;&lt;font size = "+2"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Which Mean Girls Character Are you? (girlz)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.myyearbook.com/zenhex/images/quiz2/9702/res3.jpg" border="0"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size = "+1"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Karen Smith&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;b&gt;Your a SLUT!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;(Can anyone use an apostrophe correctly?  Yet another apostrophe catastrophe.)&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;Your "frenemy,"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Timothy&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of Amanda Seyfried, my Mean Girls counterpart, Nicole and I began watching Veronica Mars from episode one yesterday.  We are digging into those old Lilly Kane wounds and lovin' it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/68m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/200/68m.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114777678359150282?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/05/lazy-lilly-i-cannot-have-another-week.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114768614613955152</guid><pubDate>Mon, 15 May 2006 09:38:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-05-14T22:42:26.163-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;font size=+4&gt;&lt;center&gt;Tugende Kuzina!&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Picture%202.0.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Picture%202.0.png" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday's Samoan Arts Festival inspired this week's reason I am happy to be moving back to Uganda:  Music Festivals!  That time of year is fast approaching.  I will make it to Uganda in time to witness the primary schools' music festivals for 2006.  Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Music%20Festival%202003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Music%20Festival%202003.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;These were my kids!&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Hands%20Raised.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Hands%20Raised.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;Praise my pagan gods!&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114768614613955152?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/05/tugende-kuzina-fridays-samoan-arts.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114766229117878248</guid><pubDate>Mon, 15 May 2006 01:34:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-05-14T16:17:59.420-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+4&gt;Get Yo' Dance On!&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Judah.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Judah.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CRAZY, CRAZY, CRAZY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is the best way to sum up the last week.  On Friday, my school had it's annual Samoan Arts Festival.  FUN, FUN, FUN.  That is what it was, but it required a lot of WORK, WORK, WORK, energy, patience, and humor.  My class has been working hard for the past couple of months to prepare for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/First%20Rehearsal.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/First%20Rehearsal.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might've mentioned before that I am with my students all day everyday.  Amy Grant once sang, "Why do I have to wear so many things on my hear?  Hats!"  I can feel the ache of her muscles and tiredness in her bones.  I teach everything.  Everything.  Not only that, but I'm the PE coach (Go ahead, laugh.  Ok. Stop now.),  I'm the lunchroom attendant (Lunch is in the classroom.),  and most recently I became the dance instructor.  I'll laugh with you here:  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  I do what I have to do.  Early March, I knew nothing at all about Samoan dance.  Middle of May, I've coached my class through three dances, arranged for costumes to be made, located props, and avoided comitting any serious cultural faux pas that offended the Samoan audience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Samoa is a place for experienctial learning.  Read Fay Calkin's book, &lt;i&gt;My Samoan Chief&lt;/i&gt;.  Many things are different today, but some things will probably never change in Samoa.  Why should they?  Why make the place any less special.  People sometimes just assume that you just know things.  Now I know that is not a purely Samoa trait (read &lt;i&gt;The Devil Wears Prada&lt;/i&gt;), but trial by fire seems to be the rule rather than the exception on our little island.  You'd think I'd finally learn and get used to it, but it just comes as a shock when you think you've done everything correctly and a parent approaches you with a look of horror oh her face an tells you that you are about to make a huge mistake that will offend the &lt;i&gt;real&lt;/i&gt; Samoan members of the audience.  I give my sincere gratitude to people watching out for me and who have my back.  My humble request is to warn me about potential critical errors sooner than immediately before I make them.  HEART ATTACK.  This past year, I have really fine tuned my "think-on-your-toes" ability.  A problem comes along, and I just pull a solution out of my rear.  I'm amazed at what is up there.  As I mentioned before, I survived the program with no major cultural faux pas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Friday night, not only did my students do well, they were f-a-b-u-l-o-u-s!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were number 2 on the program.  Zack tried to give me a real heart attack by showing up 20 minutes late with an essential prop for our perfomance:  a kava bowl. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Ava%20Ceremony.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Ava%20Ceremony.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kava bowl was the center piece for our ava ceremony.  The ava ceremony is a very important part of Samoan culture.  Davalynn played the role of Taupou to prepare the ava for the chiefs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the Guppies (pre-school class) performed their tauluga,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Guppies.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Guppies.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my kids were up again for the final two dances of their program.  I'm not sure how we lucked up to have all of our performances so early in the program, but that allowed me to enjoy the rest of the show.  When one of my hyper-active students was acting up, I could say to myself, "Let it go.  His mother's here.  He's her responsibility tonight."  The second of our three dances was our group performance.  It was a quick tempo dance that included both the boys and girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Class%20dance.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Class%20dance.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Aren't their lava lavas and puletasis fantastic?  Thanks Caroline for you contributions!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Kimbeley%20Quinn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Kimbeley%20Quinn.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Kimberley was so graceful, and Quinn was right on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Teresa was our class taupou, and Kirstan was her manaia.  The Adventurers class gave the tauluga performance of the night.  They were so into it.  Teresa became a star on the stage and gave her best perfomance yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Tauluga.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Tauluga.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Thanks again, Caroline, for saving me again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Manai.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Manai.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm a little biased, but doesn't Kirstan make the cutest manaia you've ever seen.  Are manaias supposed to be cute.  I think so.  (I cannot believe I'm throwing around the word cute so easily, like it's not a word that evokes nausea.  Sorry.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every class had a performance, and this led to a long program, but not as long as you might expect.  I was a little disappointed in the parents who bailed after their child's performance.  &lt;b&gt;Inappropriate&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finishing off the evening were the female teachers.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/The%20teachers%27%20Dance.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/The%20teachers%27%20Dance.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was not allowed to perform.  It was not descrimination.  They were just afraid that my mad dancing skills would make them look bad by comparison.  I understand that.  It's hard to be on stage with a superstar when you're only a dim flash light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+4&gt;&lt;b&gt;A special shout-out&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Leti.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Leti.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;center&gt;Leti, the graceful miracle worker.&lt;br /&gt;Isn't she &lt;font color=red&gt;hot&lt;/font&gt;, y'all?&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday night would have sucked big time if it were not for Leti.  She pulled off a miracle for Pacific Horizons School.  Leti was was my classes choreographer.  She also choreographed almost all of the other dances that were perfomed that night.  She is amazing.  Creative and patient.  She also served as our cultural advisor and creative consultant.  Creative and knowledgeable.  She whipped my girls into shape, taught me everything I know, found our music, trained our special dances, and managed to teach her pre-school class.  &lt;b&gt;Amazing&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/B4%20show.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/B4%20show.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;Bye y'all!&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114766229117878248?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/05/get-yo-dance-on-crazy-crazy-crazy-that.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114765105794063788</guid><pubDate>Sun, 14 May 2006 23:25:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-05-14T13:03:38.403-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+4&gt;&lt;font color=red&gt;P&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font color=yellow&gt;R&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font color=blue&gt;I&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font color=red&gt;M&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font color=yellow&gt;A&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font color=blue&gt;R&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font color=red&gt;Y&lt;/font&gt; &lt;font color=yellow&gt;C&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font color=blue&gt;O&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font color=red&gt;L&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font color=yellow&gt;O&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font color=blue&gt;R&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font color=red&gt;S&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/primary%20colors.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/primary%20colors.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+4&gt;are&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+4 color=red&gt;red&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font font size=+4 color=yellow&gt;yellow&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size=+4&gt;and&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font font size=+4 color=blue&gt;blue&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is one more photo from my Easter weekend trip to paradise (a.k.a. Samao).  I am &lt;b&gt;so&lt;/b&gt; ready for for another break.  SCHOOL'S OUT IN THREE WEEKS!  If you look at my side bar, you will notice I've added a count down clock ticking down the seconds until I fly out of here on the 8th of June.  Oh my pagan gods!  I've got so much to do.  Fun, tedious, tiresome, exciting, expensive, no money, chaotic, organized, scary, exciting.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+2&gt;Paradoxical life o' mine.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114765105794063788?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/05/primary-colors-are-1-2-3-red-yellow.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114734513729674424</guid><pubDate>Thu, 11 May 2006 08:22:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-05-10T23:58:57.486-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Picture%202.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Picture%202.png" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, I was able to watch the season finale of Veronica Mars. (No UPN on the rock)  It was so WOW!  I was blown away, shocked, and wanted to cry.  It evoked so many emotions.  What's going to happen next season?  I cannot wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was up with the graduation scene, though?  The gymnasium was empty.  I know they have a budget to film the show, so they probably could not afford too many extras, but it just seemed so unrealistic.  Speaking of graduation:  Wasn't Lamb a real D-I-C-K?  Can someone really be so cold hearted, full of himself and despicable at the same time?  Is that really necessary?  Karma can be a real bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure the &lt;font color=red&gt;LoVe&lt;/font&gt; fans were very pleased with the way things turned out.  I, for one, am not a &lt;font color=red&gt;LoVe&lt;/font&gt; fan.  I've said it before, I'm saying it now, and I'll say it again.  Blah, blah, blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the hell did Beaver do with Mac's clothes?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114734513729674424?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/05/finally-i-was-able-to-watch-season.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114725380085889079</guid><pubDate>Wed, 10 May 2006 09:14:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-05-09T22:53:51.750-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;!-- START YOUTHINK.COM QUIZ RESULTS --&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table border=0 bgcolor=black cellspacing=2 cellpadding=10&gt;&lt;tr bgcolor=white&gt;&lt;td align=center&gt;&lt;B&gt;&lt;font face=verdana,arial,helvetica size=2&gt;&lt;a href=http://www.youthink.com/quiz.asp?action=take&amp;quiz_id=981&gt;&lt;font color=#505A84&gt;Which Disney Princess Are You?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/B&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font color=#505A84 size=4&gt;&lt;b&gt;Aurora&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;p&gt;You're a tired old thing aren't you? We first came under Aurora's spell in Sleeping Beauty (1959)&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href=http://www.youthink.com/quiz.asp?action=take&amp;quiz_id=981&gt;&lt;img alt="Personality Test Results" border=0 src="http://www.youthink.com/quiz_images/quiz981outcome6.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align=center&gt;&lt;a href=http://www.youthink.com/quiz.asp?action=take&amp;quiz_id=981&gt;&lt;font face=verdana size=2 color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;Click Here to Take This Quiz&lt;/B&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size=1 color=C0C0C0 face=verdana&gt;Brought to you by &lt;a href=http://www.youthink.com/quiz.asp&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;YouThink.com&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt; quizzes and personality tests.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!-- END YOUTHINK.COM QUIZ RESULTS --&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mr. Sleepyhead!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114725380085889079?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/05/which-disney-princess-are.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114725151702461708</guid><pubDate>Wed, 10 May 2006 08:40:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-05-09T21:58:37.043-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;center&gt;&lt;font color=green size=+4&gt;Freedom!&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Freedom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Freedom.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Walking out of this ominous lookin door yesterday evening marked the end of the course work for my teacher certification.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+4 color=FF6699&gt;&lt;b&gt;Yay me!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so relieved to have that out of my way.  It's like an enormous weight being lifted off my shoulders.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I have the paperwork and bureaucracy of the department of education to look forward to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fun times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114725151702461708?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/05/freedom-walking-out-of-this-ominous.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114708200263008059</guid><pubDate>Mon, 08 May 2006 08:01:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-05-07T22:55:00.226-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;font size=+4&gt;&lt;center&gt;Make Everyday a &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nile Special Day&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Nile%20by%20Nile.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Nile%20by%20Nile.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugandan's&lt;font color=red&gt; love&lt;/font&gt; their brew.  They tend to be very proud of the beers they produce, both locally and commercially.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/local%20brew.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/local%20brew.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Charles%20Headshot.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/200/Charles%20Headshot.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I am not, in any shape, form or fashion, a beer connoiseur.  My great friend, Charles (Remember him?), was always a Nile Special man.  You would not find another beer would crossing his lips.  If he were to go out somewhere and find that they were out of Nile, he would either go to some other place or not drink at all that night.  Imagine my shock today when he emailed me and told me that he'd given up Nile Special for, of all things, Smirnoff Ice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reason I am happy this week to be returning to Uganda is not the Ugandan brewed beers, it is the slogans and radio jingles for Ugandan brewed beer.  Here's a little taste:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/657.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/200/657.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've already introduced you to the Nile Special slogan:  "Make everyday a Nile Special day."  Another one is "Brewed at the source."  (The brewery is just by the source of the Nile River at Lake Victoria.)  A commercial for this beer can be found playing on the radio at any given time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/7171.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/200/7171.gif" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend Arthur was a Club drinker.  The jingle for this beer had me confused for a long time.  I could not figure out what they were singing.  The singers were repeating, "Club Beer, Club Beer, Club Beer,"  but because of the singers' accents, to an untrained ear, it sounded like "Latvia, Latvia, Latvia."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/1641404-Uganda.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/200/1641404-Uganda.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bell is probably the most popular beer of all.  It's "Great night. Good morning." slogan implies that you can drink your fill and not worry about waking up with a hangover the next morning.  This has attracted a huge following.  David swung back and forth between Club and Bell depending on how long he was going to stay out and how long he would have to sleep-in the next morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;Good night everyone.  Have a great Monday morning.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114708200263008059?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/05/make-everyday-nile-special-day.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114704786217247765</guid><pubDate>Sun, 07 May 2006 23:51:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-05-07T13:24:22.226-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+2&gt;There comes a time to...&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size=+4 color=green&gt;JUST SAY NO!&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Tucked%20V8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Tucked%20V8.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made a startling discovery on Friday in the refrigerated section of the supermarket tucked in between the V8 and V8 Splash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Grass%20Jelly%20Drink.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Grass%20Jelly%20Drink.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font color=green&gt;Grass Jelly Drink&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No!&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am the person who blogged about the need to put stuff in his &lt;a href="http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/04/who-talks-like-that-remember-this-from.html"&gt;&lt;font color=FF6699&gt;mouth&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, but... No!  I've drawn the line.  I mean, look at the picture on the can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Grass%20Jelly%20Drink%20close%20up.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Grass%20Jelly%20Drink%20close%20up.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;Throwing up in your mouth yet?&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's jelly!  In a can!  Made from grass!  And they are promoting the use of a bendy straw to drink it.  Classy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just when I thought it could not get any worse,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Banana%20Flavour.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Banana%20Flavour.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;grass jelly drink also comes in banana flavor.  I like bananas.  By. Themselves.  I truly hate anything banana flavored:  popsicles, pudding, Laffy Taffy, grass jelly drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/images.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/200/images.1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;i&gt;So you should never put bananas in the refrigerator!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or in grass jelly drink.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114704786217247765?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/05/there-comes-time-to.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114682789796909425</guid><pubDate>Fri, 05 May 2006 10:43:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-05-05T00:18:18.046-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Picture%201.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Picture%201.png" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+2&gt;(Cough!  Cough!  Cough!)&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Picture%203.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/320/Picture%203.png" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+4&gt;I sick.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something is going around on the island.  The list of absentees is incredible each morning.  My kids never miss class, and I've had at least one student absent everyday this week.  Yesterday there were three, today two.  Celeste only had four students show up for class this morning.  I, myself, am not "sick", but I've really felt like "crap" two days this week.  The odd thing is that the days were not consecutive.  This leads me to believe that I'm a bit sick in the head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was the worst day teaching this semester.  I felt so out of it.  I'm usually good at putting on a good face and faking it when I'm not in the zone, but today, the kids knew.  I felt so lethargic today.  I was even a bit dizzy at times.  Tuesday it was a headache, and I thought I had a fever for a while.  I took my temperature... nothing.  My theory is that my body knows that the end is near, and it feels like I've put in enough hours and effort, and it is trying to shut down.  Only four more weeks to go after tomorrow.  I must plow on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having so many students absent makes it difficult to conduct class.  I don't want to start anything entirely new, and we do a lot of group work, so when many students are out, it interferes with the progress of the group as a whole.  Children missing school is a bit frustrating.  Ugh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should get sick.  I've not taken a sick day yet, and I have six personal days in reserve.  Hmmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were sick, I wish that I had a perky, rich drunk to take care of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Picture%204.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/320/Picture%204.png" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, the lush I'm stuck with only wants feel me up and dance for her in a leopard print thong.  The price we pay for sugar mommies.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Picture%206.0.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/200/Picture%206.png" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;(Cough!  Cough!  Cough! )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sick.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114682789796909425?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/05/cough-cough-cough-i-sick.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114673215068386812</guid><pubDate>Thu, 04 May 2006 07:57:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-05-03T21:42:30.946-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+4 color=blue&gt;Sushi. Yum.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Sushi%20on%20Mat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Sushi%20on%20Mat.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, my friends, we made sushi in class today.  Yes, we; that includes me.  I've been a fan of sushi for years.  (This might sound gross, but in North Florida, where I'm from, there is a supermarket chain called Publix, and they sell sushi in the fresh fish area of the store.  I &lt;font color=red&gt;&lt;3&lt;/font&gt; supermarke sushi from Publix.  Anyway, it's the South, and we love us some mayonnaise.  Yes, (gasp!) they put some kind of mayo concoction in the middle of the sushi rolls at Publix on 23rd Street in Panama City, and I must admit that it is tasty.  Whatever sells, right?)  However, until today, I'd only eaten sushi prepared by others.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my class, the third day of the school week is known as Wellness Wednesday.  We dedicate this day to being well and healthy.  (Only one day per week.  GO BODY!!! YAY!)  On this day, the kids are not allowed to bring to school anything resembling junk food.  No chips at lunch, no cookies at break.  I am quite the drill sergeant at PE, and today we had a great discussion on puberty and body changes.  The best part about Wellness Wednesdays is that we learn how to prepare a nutritious snack in class, and the best part of doing is that we eat whatever we make.  This has been a great idea this quarter in school, and it has improved parent involvment with the class.  Some weeks students' parents come out and help with the snacks!  In past weeks, we've made two types of smoothies, kim and rice, potato salad, and this week we made sushi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Kids%20Cuttin%20Sushi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Kids%20Cuttin%20Sushi.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I mentioned before, I had never made sushi.  I've wanted to learn how to prepare it for quite some time, so today was a terrific opportunity for me.  The roles of teacher and students were reversed this morning because some of my students were much more experienced than I in the art of rollling sushi.  I allowed a couple of my resident food artists to take control, and they coached me through the contruction of a not-so-perfect, kind-of-scrawny but tasty roll of sushi.  Then the kids took turns rolling sushi until the ingredients ran out.  It was so much fun and a good learning experience for me, a good learning experience or all (except for maybe Kirstan who is pictured above seated at the table with his head down looking like he is dying.  He was not feeling too well today but would not hear of going home.  Poor thing.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Sushi%20Yum.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Sushi%20Yum.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I said, the best part of preparing nutritious snacks at school is that we get to eat what we make.  Yum!  We made our snack a little later than usual today which was probably a good thing.  It spoiled most of our appetites for lunch.  Guess who caters our school lunches on Wellness Wednesday.  &lt;font color=red&gt;KFC&lt;/font&gt;.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;i&gt;Isn't it ironic?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't ya think?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/images.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/200/images.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114673215068386812?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/05/sushi.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15631328.post-114656206041625198</guid><pubDate>Tue, 02 May 2006 08:29:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-05-01T22:27:40.646-11:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=+4&gt;I &lt;font color=red&gt;&lt;3&lt;/font&gt; Kristen Bell&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/kristen-bell-1024x768-20569.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/kristen-bell-1024x768-20569.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I only caught my first glimpse of her last August, I don't know what I'd do without her now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My infatuation is unnatural.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/VeronicaMars3_060104121134190_wideweb__300x200%2C1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/VeronicaMars3_060104121134190_wideweb__300x200%2C1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being in Uganda, I missed the whole first season of Veronica Mars.  I'll forever be indebted to Nicole for letting me borrow the entire first season.  I was hooked from episode one.  Since the third grade and Nancy Drew, I've had a soft spot for a teenage sleuth.  At the time, I'd just learned what the world &lt;i&gt;slut&lt;/i&gt; meant, and I had never heard of a sleuth.  I remember reading Nancy Drew, and for some reason, I assumed that sleuth = slut.  I could not understand how Nancy's father approved of her slutting.  I thought he was very progressive and on his way to hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I digress...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My love for Kristen goes beyond Veronica Mars.  &lt;font color=green&gt;Reefer Madness&lt;/font&gt; anyone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/kristenreefer06.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/kristenreefer06.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I'll confess.  When Nicole first tried to introduce me to V, I was not very interested.  The school year had just begun, and I just did not have time to sit down and get interested in a new television show that would suck me in.  I'm a tv adict.  One minute is too much, and 16 hours is not enough.  It was not until after I watched &lt;i&gt;&lt;font color=green&gt;Reefer Madness&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/i&gt; that I decided to check out Veronica Mars.  Kristen's performance as Mary Lane is stand out; she was perfectly cast.  Who knew she could dance and sing so well?  Maybe it was the whole S &amp; M scene that did it for me... Maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally saw Kristen's perfomance from last year's Emmy awards today.  Yes, today.  Once again, I was without television when it aired, and I could not get it to download for a while, then I forgot about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/emmy2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/emmy2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KB perfoming the themesong from one of my favorite movie musicals, now that almost made me lose my testicles in the sofa.  Look how colorful they are!  Fun times!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Kristen has a new feature film coming soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/1600/Picture%206.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1103/1453/400/Picture%206.png" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Horror flick.  Recipe for disaster.  You bet I'll be seeing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She co-stars with that Boone guy from lost.  I would want to be killed off a show, too, if it meant that I could co-star in a film with Kristen Bell.  Get this: the film also co-stars Christina Milian!  Dr. Dre's new squeeze.  She was the girl in &lt;i&gt;Be Cool&lt;/i&gt;.  She also did some film with Nick Cannon a few years ago, and last year she had a huge international hit Dip It Low (Pop! Pop! Pop that thang! I'ma show ya how ta make yo man say, "Ohh!").&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last person I such a crush on left her fabulous career as a goddess to become a truck driver and got knocked up by some wifebeater wearin' punk who thinks he's a rapper.  I pray that Kristen will be wiser and stick around for a long time.  I'm getting to old to seek after new crushes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15631328-114656206041625198?l=araalinas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://araalinas.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-3-kristen-bell-even-though-i-only.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Timothy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item></channel></rss>