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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;DUYAQXwzcSp7ImA9WhRRFE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5452141093645547871</id><updated>2011-11-27T15:39:00.289-08:00</updated><title>Funny, and the not so Funny</title><subtitle type="html">Funny, because it's happening; not so funny, because it's real!

 -Fleur-de-lis-</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/" /><author><name>Fleur-de-lis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02187638438017632588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/SUsE1Z3qCjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/mYrdki63xTA/S220/DSC00054.JPG" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny" /><feedburner:info uri="funnyandthenotsofunny" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE4ESXw6eCp7ImA9WhZaFUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5452141093645547871.post-4517632263630243359</id><published>2011-05-07T09:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-01T22:01:48.210-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-01T22:01:48.210-07:00</app:edited><title>Staggering Parallels?</title><content type="html">&lt;iframe width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Qj4Vsj6iYvM" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This 30 seconds video shows a woman caressing a cat-like creature. Seemed puzzling to me at first (MTV always produces weird idents), but after exposing to it for some time, I've came to draw parallels with female self-stimulation :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It may be far-fetched, but let's give the video a break-down:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Notice that the soft pink creature looks like a pussy (slang for female genitalia).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. The woman in it is caressing the creature in a stimulating way: note the frequency of caressing the pussy with the index finger - not typical when doing it to your pet cat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Note how the pink creature blushes at 0:17. Before the climax, the clitoris becomes more sensitive as blood rushes and fills it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. The cat lays back and enjoys it, and begins to expand, similar to the clitoris where it becomes bigger in size with the arousal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. And it burst! Orgasm is reached, the end-product is wet, sticky and messy @o@&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5452141093645547871-4517632263630243359?l=neckkiss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Hsz7Y_Gl73nQACsLz-XgGC27Zbg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Hsz7Y_Gl73nQACsLz-XgGC27Zbg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~4/_sALtNm3PkY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/feeds/4517632263630243359/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2011/05/mtv-ident-shows-female-masturbation-and.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/4517632263630243359?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/4517632263630243359?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~3/_sALtNm3PkY/mtv-ident-shows-female-masturbation-and.html" title="Staggering Parallels?" /><author><name>Fleur-de-lis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02187638438017632588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/SUsE1Z3qCjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/mYrdki63xTA/S220/DSC00054.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://img.youtube.com/vi/Qj4Vsj6iYvM/default.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2011/05/mtv-ident-shows-female-masturbation-and.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUQFRHw6eyp7ImA9WxFTF08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5452141093645547871.post-4083548785692579359</id><published>2010-04-08T04:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-08T04:48:35.213-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-08T04:48:35.213-07:00</app:edited><title>If All the World's a Stage</title><content type="html">And all the men and women merely players,&lt;br /&gt;Then we are not our real self,&lt;br /&gt;Since we cannot get out of this world&lt;br /&gt;It can only remain recessive somewhere deep down&lt;br /&gt;That will never manifest itself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5452141093645547871-4083548785692579359?l=neckkiss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/J9H2tpNYEL4xmjCVQzPZGTi_4H4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/J9H2tpNYEL4xmjCVQzPZGTi_4H4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/J9H2tpNYEL4xmjCVQzPZGTi_4H4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/J9H2tpNYEL4xmjCVQzPZGTi_4H4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~4/GxfceZdN6uE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/feeds/4083548785692579359/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2010/04/if-all-worlds-stage.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/4083548785692579359?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/4083548785692579359?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~3/GxfceZdN6uE/if-all-worlds-stage.html" title="If All the World's a Stage" /><author><name>Fleur-de-lis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02187638438017632588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/SUsE1Z3qCjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/mYrdki63xTA/S220/DSC00054.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2010/04/if-all-worlds-stage.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUMCQnszcCp7ImA9WxBUGUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5452141093645547871.post-3009769266163281894</id><published>2010-03-06T06:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-06T22:31:03.588-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-03-06T22:31:03.588-08:00</app:edited><title>From Monotropy to Monogamous Love</title><content type="html">Many parallels can be drawn between monotropy (a suggestion by John Bowlby that a child is genetically programmed to form an attachment to a single primary caregiver in order to achieve a healthy development.) and monogamous love.&lt;br /&gt;In fact, an idea occurs to me that monogamous love could be the second stage of monotropy, knowing that one day our single caregiver will die- we need someone to sustain our emotional well-being for the rest of our lives. Maybe the four components of attachment can explain it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Proximity Maintenance: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;As with babies displaying proximity-promoting behaviours such as smiling and crying, the adults do so by flirting with their chosen potential partners so to encourage them to get close to them. After an attachment is formed, they yearn to remain close to the one they attach to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Safe Haven: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;While children tend to cling to their attachment figure for comfort and safety in the face of fear and threat, adults do so too. When they feel threatened, their partners are the only ones they could think of for comfort.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Secure Base: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;For children, attachment figure acts as a base of security from which they can explore and face the world confidently. Through them that the children are able to form attachments with other people. Same goes to adult. Maybe being too secure will lead them to stray into polygamy, where they find the pleasure of being loved and cared about. Feeling insecure too will lead to the same path, as adults tend to jump from one relationship to another to find their 'home'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Separation Distress: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Infants and small children feel anxious in the absence of their caregiver. As with adults, they feel sad and nostalgic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P/s: Human babies do not imprint on their parents, yet it is suggestable that adults 'imprint' on their partners in the form of imitating their body language unintentionally (as in the long term, imprinting is used for mating ). Maybe babies do not imprint as they need to develop their individuality, as it is fully formed in adulthood, they do so so that they are able to cooperate and be more agreeable with their partners in solving issues when they live together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5452141093645547871-3009769266163281894?l=neckkiss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Bj-Y55igm3as-SVkTP7iT34DIIg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Bj-Y55igm3as-SVkTP7iT34DIIg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Bj-Y55igm3as-SVkTP7iT34DIIg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Bj-Y55igm3as-SVkTP7iT34DIIg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~4/FkXPqM0fNOo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/feeds/3733821803351640355/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2010/02/mourning.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/3733821803351640355?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/3733821803351640355?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~3/FkXPqM0fNOo/mourning.html" title="Mourning" /><author><name>Fleur-de-lis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02187638438017632588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/SUsE1Z3qCjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/mYrdki63xTA/S220/DSC00054.JPG" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2010/02/mourning.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0EMSX89fCp7ImA9WxBXFUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5452141093645547871.post-949579379485238324</id><published>2010-01-26T06:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T07:28:08.164-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-26T07:28:08.164-08:00</app:edited><title>The End-Product of the Patriarchal System</title><content type="html">-In the end, we get to see men sitting with opened legs and ladies, crossed legs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the patriarchal system, men display their superiority over women by taking pride in their genitals. This can be easily seen by observing their open-legged sitting position, so that their genitals can be generously presented to the whole world, as if they are saying, "I have what you don't have, therefore I'm the boss here!" Also, this could explain their competitive and aggressive nature in general as by sitting like this, they feel more comfortable and confident as they are stable with their feet firm on the ground. The wider their legs apart, the more territory they conquer, thus men are perceived as dominant, as compared to women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women, on the other hand, have been trained from young to sit cross-legged so to be more 'ladylike'. In this system, women are considered the inferior, or the outgroup of the XY-chromosomed creatures. In order to fit in and gain men's approval, they are encouraged to cover up what they 'do not have', as if they are reminded over and over again "Shame that you do not have that, now hide it!" By covering up, they automatically level up to be more 'manly' and respectable.In this position, they are less stable and thus they need to bring out their grace to compensate it and at the same time, attract men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really, it is an art to sit like a lady.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5452141093645547871-949579379485238324?l=neckkiss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_6NmAUGnCF5PFv2HmCHQ9YnjFKY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_6NmAUGnCF5PFv2HmCHQ9YnjFKY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_6NmAUGnCF5PFv2HmCHQ9YnjFKY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_6NmAUGnCF5PFv2HmCHQ9YnjFKY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~4/aWuePGFsh0g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/feeds/949579379485238324/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2010/01/end-product-of-patriarchal-system.html#comment-form" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/949579379485238324?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/949579379485238324?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~3/aWuePGFsh0g/end-product-of-patriarchal-system.html" title="The End-Product of the Patriarchal System" /><author><name>Fleur-de-lis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02187638438017632588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/SUsE1Z3qCjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/mYrdki63xTA/S220/DSC00054.JPG" /></author><thr:total>6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2010/01/end-product-of-patriarchal-system.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkMER387fyp7ImA9WxBSFEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5452141093645547871.post-4541288655438091347</id><published>2009-12-20T23:08:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-21T23:53:26.107-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-12-21T23:53:26.107-08:00</app:edited><title>The Cycle of Understanding</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="left"&gt;Understanding is the ability of the mind to grasp the meaning of an idea, etc. There are two types of understanding: &lt;strong&gt;literal understanding &lt;/strong&gt;and &lt;strong&gt;in-depth understanding. &lt;/strong&gt;It is a process that can be illustrated in the cycle below, which can be divided into three phases:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/Sy8kNm0lphI/AAAAAAAAAFU/4CJQw9w1I5g/s1600-h/understanding+cycle.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 235px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417588692928013842" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/Sy8kNm0lphI/AAAAAAAAAFU/4CJQw9w1I5g/s320/understanding+cycle.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Phase 1: It begins as a &lt;strong&gt;literal/ surface/ simplistic understanding, &lt;/strong&gt;where the meaning of an idea, etc is understood literally, eg. a statement or an instruction.It is similar to a child viewing a photograph of the ocean. He simply understands that it is the ocean that he is perceiving. He also understands that it is beautiful and serene when told by his mother.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;In short, it is &lt;strong&gt;simple &lt;/strong&gt;because the meaning of an idea, etc. is understood literally.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Phase 2: It proceeds into complication where the idea is challenged and scrutinized in order to achieve in-depth understanding. As the child grows up, he starts to question why the ocean is being perceived as beautiful and serene by his mother when smaller fishes are being preys to the bigger ones. He finds that nothing is beautiful and serene as living things are attacking and consuming each other up every single moment.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;In short, it is &lt;strong&gt;complicated &lt;/strong&gt;as the existing idea is causing confusion with the mind's expectations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Phase 3: &lt;strong&gt;In-depth/ thorough understanding&lt;/strong&gt; occurs once the conflict between the existing idea and the mind's expectations are resolved. It could be that the child finally understands the laws of nature through the study of ecosystem that clears his doubts on the hellish life in the ocean, or inspired with awe by the designated structures that enable the aquatic lives to survive in the water, thus he can mutually agree with his mother, or he could have another set of opinions about the ocean but is able to see through or understand her perspective. Other than that, it is also attained by gaining insight or from personal experiences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In short, it returns to the &lt;strong&gt;simple&lt;/strong&gt; state of understanding as all the conflicts are resolved.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5452141093645547871-4541288655438091347?l=neckkiss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ihmu4miXnoq9zGW-LOQrBXvfHH8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ihmu4miXnoq9zGW-LOQrBXvfHH8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ihmu4miXnoq9zGW-LOQrBXvfHH8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ihmu4miXnoq9zGW-LOQrBXvfHH8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~4/8BnkA-JzOag" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/feeds/4541288655438091347/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/12/cycle-of-understanding.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/4541288655438091347?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/4541288655438091347?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~3/8BnkA-JzOag/cycle-of-understanding.html" title="The Cycle of Understanding" /><author><name>Fleur-de-lis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02187638438017632588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/SUsE1Z3qCjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/mYrdki63xTA/S220/DSC00054.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/Sy8kNm0lphI/AAAAAAAAAFU/4CJQw9w1I5g/s72-c/understanding+cycle.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/12/cycle-of-understanding.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEIMRHc4eip7ImA9WxNUEE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5452141093645547871.post-2416217988094036461</id><published>2009-10-31T08:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T08:23:05.932-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-31T08:23:05.932-07:00</app:edited><title>The Hidden Sexual Organ</title><content type="html">Aaaahhh!!! Bingo!! This is it!!!&lt;br /&gt;Ever wonder why flowers are present in romantic settings? (Notice it in perfume advertisements, love movies, etc)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Guys love to give flowers to girls (not due to social obligation) simply because "girls like beautiful, aromatic little things!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Yet, this is just a "coating" or simply, an original intention that is distorted by the ego-defense mechanism since we live in a society of repressed feelings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I gazed deeper and deeper into the core of a chrysanthemum one fine day, the answer became clearer to me. Since much of the thoughts are symbolic in the unconscious mind, a flower as a gift means that the guy harbours unconscious sexual feelings towards the girl whom he called 'love' as we can see that a flower is a sexual organ of a plant!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5452141093645547871-2416217988094036461?l=neckkiss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gibJccKH-9mWW4oRVLH2R3XTgiY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gibJccKH-9mWW4oRVLH2R3XTgiY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gibJccKH-9mWW4oRVLH2R3XTgiY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gibJccKH-9mWW4oRVLH2R3XTgiY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~4/SBtoakfEDHA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/feeds/2416217988094036461/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/10/hidden-sex-organ.html#comment-form" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/2416217988094036461?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/2416217988094036461?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~3/SBtoakfEDHA/hidden-sex-organ.html" title="The Hidden Sexual Organ" /><author><name>Fleur-de-lis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02187638438017632588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/SUsE1Z3qCjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/mYrdki63xTA/S220/DSC00054.JPG" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/10/hidden-sex-organ.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEIHRXk9fip7ImA9WxNRF0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5452141093645547871.post-4221463083771740907</id><published>2009-09-12T09:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T09:22:14.766-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-12T09:22:14.766-07:00</app:edited><title>Raincoats</title><content type="html">Colourful raincoats in the sun,&lt;br /&gt;Shiny green grass on the brown;&lt;br /&gt;Maggie looking out through the glass,&lt;br /&gt;Stretching her lips in the vase-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All, on a piece of paper.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5452141093645547871-4221463083771740907?l=neckkiss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Oa3u6MPKRiwZbt6K0zSmOmLGdFg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Oa3u6MPKRiwZbt6K0zSmOmLGdFg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Oa3u6MPKRiwZbt6K0zSmOmLGdFg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Oa3u6MPKRiwZbt6K0zSmOmLGdFg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~4/4d5LVOg0KmI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/feeds/4221463083771740907/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/09/raincoats.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/4221463083771740907?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/4221463083771740907?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~3/4d5LVOg0KmI/raincoats.html" title="Raincoats" /><author><name>Fleur-de-lis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02187638438017632588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/SUsE1Z3qCjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/mYrdki63xTA/S220/DSC00054.JPG" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/09/raincoats.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE8FSHc9eSp7ImA9WxJUE0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5452141093645547871.post-7699315959669058389</id><published>2009-07-12T00:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T01:20:19.961-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-07-12T01:20:19.961-07:00</app:edited><title>Ghostly Encounter??</title><content type="html">I remembered when I was in Form 2, my friend and I went to the toilet at the first floor of the building. That time, it was almost 5 pm and we were very sure that no one was inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was then a naive and playful little girl, I mimicked the sound of a ghost as a joke without thinking about anything else. After I stopped, we both heard the ghostly whisper at our ears and we stared at each other, dumbfounded!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we gained our senses, we ran straight out of the dimly lit toilet, screaming, and vowed to never return anymore...lol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5452141093645547871-7699315959669058389?l=neckkiss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/U_zvd9b85nZ4egH3I9qVPVLUIkg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/U_zvd9b85nZ4egH3I9qVPVLUIkg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/U_zvd9b85nZ4egH3I9qVPVLUIkg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/U_zvd9b85nZ4egH3I9qVPVLUIkg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~4/r4281i8Hsrk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/feeds/7699315959669058389/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/07/ghostly-encounter.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/7699315959669058389?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/7699315959669058389?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~3/r4281i8Hsrk/ghostly-encounter.html" title="Ghostly Encounter??" /><author><name>Fleur-de-lis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02187638438017632588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/SUsE1Z3qCjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/mYrdki63xTA/S220/DSC00054.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/07/ghostly-encounter.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcCRnY7eCp7ImA9WxJQEk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5452141093645547871.post-5500425655796302647</id><published>2009-05-24T19:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T19:54:27.800-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-05-24T19:54:27.800-07:00</app:edited><title>God versus Santa</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Q : Why do we believe in God but not Santa??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;A : Because God rewards and punishes while Santa only punishes regardless of our behaviour...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5452141093645547871-5500425655796302647?l=neckkiss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HjLYEs53U4kOyrBPk0gNfhiI8ME/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HjLYEs53U4kOyrBPk0gNfhiI8ME/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HjLYEs53U4kOyrBPk0gNfhiI8ME/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HjLYEs53U4kOyrBPk0gNfhiI8ME/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~4/PFBeJyDufzk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/feeds/5500425655796302647/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/05/god-versus-santa.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/5500425655796302647?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/5500425655796302647?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~3/PFBeJyDufzk/god-versus-santa.html" title="God versus Santa" /><author><name>Fleur-de-lis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02187638438017632588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/SUsE1Z3qCjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/mYrdki63xTA/S220/DSC00054.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/05/god-versus-santa.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUMNR3o7eCp7ImA9WxJQFEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5452141093645547871.post-3797070591948251940</id><published>2009-05-20T19:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T19:24:56.400-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-05-27T19:24:56.400-07:00</app:edited><title>We're Stuck</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/ShS2FrcU3-I/AAAAAAAAAEU/QMPkzIHyilk/s1600-h/DSC00145.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338091667018014690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 160px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 120px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/ShS2FrcU3-I/AAAAAAAAAEU/QMPkzIHyilk/s400/DSC00145.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Supposingly, we're the cross:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;# No matter where we go, we're still in the circle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;# If we manage to step out of the circle, we're still in another bigger circle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;# Even if we get out of the circle, we're still in the paper.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;# If we get out of that paper, we're still in this web page.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;# If we get out of the web page, we're still in the room.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;# If we get out of the room, we're still in the house.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;# If we get out of the house, we're still roaming on the surface of Earth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;# If we get out of Earth, we're still in the universe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;# If we get out of the universe (let's say there's an end to the universe), we'll still be trapped in a bigger region, maybe a void.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;# If we get out of the void, there's another bigger void for us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;# And so on...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;* It seems that we're bounded by endless regions, and could never get out. Well, if you ask me to think outside the box, I may be thinking in another bigger box. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Or, should I say that we're stuck in this consciousness? Where do we want to go, anyway? Hmm...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5452141093645547871-3797070591948251940?l=neckkiss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/atQpib-mUfyUPXhhPO8oPJR6IpY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/atQpib-mUfyUPXhhPO8oPJR6IpY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/atQpib-mUfyUPXhhPO8oPJR6IpY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/atQpib-mUfyUPXhhPO8oPJR6IpY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~4/EnTf2nDut1g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/feeds/3797070591948251940/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/05/were-stuck.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/3797070591948251940?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/3797070591948251940?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~3/EnTf2nDut1g/were-stuck.html" title="We're Stuck" /><author><name>Fleur-de-lis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02187638438017632588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/SUsE1Z3qCjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/mYrdki63xTA/S220/DSC00054.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/ShS2FrcU3-I/AAAAAAAAAEU/QMPkzIHyilk/s72-c/DSC00145.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/05/were-stuck.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEAMRn8_cSp7ImA9WxJRF08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5452141093645547871.post-1055463431293727928</id><published>2009-05-16T08:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T01:46:27.149-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-05-19T01:46:27.149-07:00</app:edited><title>Possibility Paradox</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;If everything is possible, then it is possible to be impossible... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Well, this popular cliche 'everything is possible' which lacks realism still holds true in this world after all, with just a twist!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Lol...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5452141093645547871-1055463431293727928?l=neckkiss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lTvlckWSDph6BV8gDSnPowxgdUQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lTvlckWSDph6BV8gDSnPowxgdUQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lTvlckWSDph6BV8gDSnPowxgdUQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lTvlckWSDph6BV8gDSnPowxgdUQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~4/r8uUMtpgjPM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/feeds/1055463431293727928/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/05/possibility-paradox.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/1055463431293727928?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/1055463431293727928?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~3/r8uUMtpgjPM/possibility-paradox.html" title="Possibility Paradox" /><author><name>Fleur-de-lis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02187638438017632588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/SUsE1Z3qCjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/mYrdki63xTA/S220/DSC00054.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/05/possibility-paradox.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEQCRXc5eSp7ImA9WxJSF0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5452141093645547871.post-4061415720505657567</id><published>2009-05-08T01:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T02:52:44.921-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-05-08T02:52:44.921-07:00</app:edited><title>Opposing to Nature?</title><content type="html">When we see &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;blue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;, we feel &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;calm, cool and a bit depressing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;When we see &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;red&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;, we feel &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;lively, hot and energetic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;But this does not apply to the flame of the fire. If we were still kids, we would probably say that fire with blue flame is the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;coolest &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;and fire with red flame is the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;hottest&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;. Common sense tells us that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yup, I held this belief till when I was ten, I realized that it was the exact opposite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the moral of the story is, the world is full of surprises as not everything can be explained by common sense. Hmm, since everyone says I lack common sense, I don't have to worry anymore about saying or doing anything outrageous as common sense is not so important after all!! Haha...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5452141093645547871-4061415720505657567?l=neckkiss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Qj1q-X_94zqk8gUXeJPgDXEq-YE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Qj1q-X_94zqk8gUXeJPgDXEq-YE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Qj1q-X_94zqk8gUXeJPgDXEq-YE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Qj1q-X_94zqk8gUXeJPgDXEq-YE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~4/oplfIAePRFk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/feeds/4061415720505657567/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/05/opposing-to-nature.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/4061415720505657567?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/4061415720505657567?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~3/oplfIAePRFk/opposing-to-nature.html" title="Opposing to Nature?" /><author><name>Fleur-de-lis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02187638438017632588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/SUsE1Z3qCjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/mYrdki63xTA/S220/DSC00054.JPG" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/05/opposing-to-nature.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE4BRHs7cCp7ImA9WxJTGE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5452141093645547871.post-5087178115039223873</id><published>2009-04-27T03:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T03:09:15.508-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-04-27T03:09:15.508-07:00</app:edited><title>Instant Realization</title><content type="html">Come to think about it; if everyone thinks as i think from the beginning of time, we'll still be living in caves...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't that scary?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5452141093645547871-5087178115039223873?l=neckkiss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yU-Ad8aLdARd_8iad-Xlwt8T-Do/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yU-Ad8aLdARd_8iad-Xlwt8T-Do/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yU-Ad8aLdARd_8iad-Xlwt8T-Do/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yU-Ad8aLdARd_8iad-Xlwt8T-Do/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~4/2ZZ5OCtjrvM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/feeds/5087178115039223873/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/04/instant-realization.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/5087178115039223873?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/5087178115039223873?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~3/2ZZ5OCtjrvM/instant-realization.html" title="Instant Realization" /><author><name>Fleur-de-lis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02187638438017632588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/SUsE1Z3qCjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/mYrdki63xTA/S220/DSC00054.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/04/instant-realization.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcDQ307fSp7ImA9WxVVEEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5452141093645547871.post-8403773489601669742</id><published>2009-03-03T04:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T05:14:32.305-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-03-03T05:14:32.305-08:00</app:edited><title>Road-Crossing Disaster</title><content type="html">Whenever I wanna cross a busy road, I would get very anxious. Either I would hold my friend's hand or dash across it, like a madwoman. And they'd always say the same thing to me, everyone, " Don't worry, the driver would never hit you." or " It's okay, you bought life insurance, right?"&lt;br /&gt;And of course, I'd defend my behaviour by this very answer, " &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;What if the break is not working&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;?"&lt;br /&gt;Till now, it never fails to leave them speechless for a moment. Lol...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5452141093645547871-8403773489601669742?l=neckkiss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IQH_sybRpEj9mLc3_BHzOH9b5Yk/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IQH_sybRpEj9mLc3_BHzOH9b5Yk/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IQH_sybRpEj9mLc3_BHzOH9b5Yk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IQH_sybRpEj9mLc3_BHzOH9b5Yk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~4/Q9hDja9t74M" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/feeds/8403773489601669742/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/03/road-crossing-disaster.html#comment-form" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/8403773489601669742?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/8403773489601669742?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~3/Q9hDja9t74M/road-crossing-disaster.html" title="Road-Crossing Disaster" /><author><name>Fleur-de-lis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02187638438017632588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/SUsE1Z3qCjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/mYrdki63xTA/S220/DSC00054.JPG" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/03/road-crossing-disaster.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE8NQ3kyeCp7ImA9Wx9aEk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5452141093645547871.post-8697986002424012014</id><published>2009-02-28T04:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-03T18:48:12.790-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-03T18:48:12.790-08:00</app:edited><title>The Washing Machine</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;It's another boring afternoon and I'm watching my lil sister chewing her chicken rice and hey! I've just realized that our mouth and the washing machine &lt;em&gt;actually &lt;/em&gt;work on the same principle...&lt;br /&gt;You see, when you’re eating especially using hand, you remind me of my mum putting all the clothes in the washing machine and when she shuts the door; you close your mouth. The process continues with the adding of soap water (secretion of saliva) and then spinning of clothes (manipulating of food by tongue when chewed).&lt;br /&gt;During the process, dirt, stains and germs are removed from the clothes as starch is hydrolyzed by the saliva in our first stage of digestion. After that, the clothes are squeezed just like the food in our mouth that is made into bolus. Unlike the clothes which will be taken out to dry, the food is then pushed down the oesophagus, that’s why we call it ‘the disappearing clothes’…lol…&lt;br /&gt;Well, it is possible to spit it out. The problem is, how are we gonna hang it for drying?? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QkHHf2SPXMQ/TXBSXwCb2xI/AAAAAAAAAF0/tXkin5mR5Ko/s1600/DSCN3913.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580050506297629458" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QkHHf2SPXMQ/TXBSXwCb2xI/AAAAAAAAAF0/tXkin5mR5Ko/s320/DSCN3913.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5452141093645547871-8697986002424012014?l=neckkiss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Lj3rUeQGG6NCTgp1LyKSEF_-Bz0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Lj3rUeQGG6NCTgp1LyKSEF_-Bz0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Lj3rUeQGG6NCTgp1LyKSEF_-Bz0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Lj3rUeQGG6NCTgp1LyKSEF_-Bz0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~4/9Xbr52CgEyk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/feeds/8697986002424012014/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/02/washing-machine.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/8697986002424012014?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5452141093645547871/posts/default/8697986002424012014?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FunnyAndTheNotSoFunny/~3/9Xbr52CgEyk/washing-machine.html" title="The Washing Machine" /><author><name>Fleur-de-lis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02187638438017632588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PoSrSR7UF8Y/SUsE1Z3qCjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/mYrdki63xTA/S220/DSC00054.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QkHHf2SPXMQ/TXBSXwCb2xI/AAAAAAAAAF0/tXkin5mR5Ko/s72-c/DSCN3913.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://neckkiss.blogspot.com/2009/02/washing-machine.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

