<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27849632</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:00:25.062-07:00</updated><category term='2007'/><category term='Friday'/><category term='April 27'/><title type='text'>Blahg</title><subtitle type='html'>Is it?</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Rey A</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08146022685642916080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/STyWgJWvAKI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ZA50wjqE9iQ/S220/PhotoguniaNewspaper.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>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27849632.post-7415963687837445905</id><published>2007-04-27T19:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-27T20:13:35.904-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friday'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='April 27'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='2007'/><title type='text'>Center of the Universe</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6600;"&gt;A classmate from high school sent this pics to our yahoogroup mail. Very interesting. I've never viewed the planets before from this perspective. It shows that in the realm of the universe we are reallly nothing. The e-mail contained these caption for the pics:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Antares is the 15th biggest star in the sky. It is more than 1000 light years away.Yet amidst all this, God knows when each sparrow falls. He cares about our smallest problem, our biggest hurt, our every joy. But we need to see our lives and ourselves in perspective. We aren't the center of the universe, GOD is. We don't own our next breath. GOD does. Very humbling.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/RjK64gs7eCI/AAAAAAAAAKI/M0gWpC-dMQ8/s1600-h/Planets2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058310811504310306" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/RjK64gs7eCI/AAAAAAAAAKI/M0gWpC-dMQ8/s200/Planets2.jpg" border="2" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/RjK6vQs7eBI/AAAAAAAAAKA/-2G4I-csUig/s1600-h/Planets1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058310652590520338" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/RjK6vQs7eBI/AAAAAAAAAKA/-2G4I-csUig/s200/Planets1.jpg" border="2" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/RjK7Ggs7eDI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/gfZIQ8TBhSU/s1600-h/Planets3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058311052022478898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/RjK7Ggs7eDI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/gfZIQ8TBhSU/s200/Planets3.jpg" border="2" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/RjK7TAs7eEI/AAAAAAAAAKY/UuCdEvlSt0Q/s1600-h/Planets4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058311266770843714" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/RjK7TAs7eEI/AAAAAAAAAKY/UuCdEvlSt0Q/s200/Planets4.jpg" border="2" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/RjK7tws7eFI/AAAAAAAAAKg/er85gN9a-VE/s1600-h/Planets5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058311726332344402" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/RjK7tws7eFI/AAAAAAAAAKg/er85gN9a-VE/s200/Planets5.jpg" border="2" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27849632-7415963687837445905?l=reyagbayani.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/feeds/7415963687837445905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27849632&amp;postID=7415963687837445905' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/7415963687837445905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/7415963687837445905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/2007/04/center-of-universe.html' title='&lt;FONT face=MATISSE ITC size=4 color=redoran&gt;Center of the Universe&lt;/FONT&gt;'/><author><name>Rey A</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08146022685642916080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/STyWgJWvAKI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ZA50wjqE9iQ/S220/PhotoguniaNewspaper.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/RjK64gs7eCI/AAAAAAAAAKI/M0gWpC-dMQ8/s72-c/Planets2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27849632.post-4603586352897045672</id><published>2007-03-25T18:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-27T19:41:17.514-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Last Tract</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;I've been remiss on this blahg. Here's another article I've received in my e-mail. The story is fitting in this Season of Lent. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MY LAST TRACT&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;Every Sunday afternoon, after the morning service at their church, the Pastor and his eleven year old son would go out into their town and hand out Gospel Tracts. This particular Sunday afternoon, as it came time for the Pastor and his son to go to the streets with their tracts, it was very cold outside as well as pouring down rain. The boy bundled up in his warmest and driest clothes and said--- "OK dad, I'm ready." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;His Pastor dad asked - "Ready for what?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;"Dad, it's time we gather our tracts together and go out." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;Dad responds - "Son, it's very cold outside and it's pouring down rain."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;The boy gives his dad a surprised look, asking - "But dad, aren't people still going to Hell, even though it's raining?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;Dad answers - "Son, I am not going out in this weather." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;Despondently the boy asks - "Dad, can I go, Please?" His father hesitated for a moment then said - "Son, you can go. Here are the tracts. Be careful son." "Thanks Dad!!! " And with that he was off and out into the rain. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;This eleven year old boy walked the streets of the town going door to door and handing everybody he met in the street a Gospel Tract. After 2 hours of walking in the rain he was soaking bone chilled wet and down to his VERY LAST TRACT. He stopped on a corner and looked for someone to hand a tract to but the streets were totally deserted. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;Then he turned toward the first home he saw and started up the sidewalk to the front door and rang the door bell. He rang the bell-but nobody answered. He rang it again and again but, still no one answered. He waited but still no answer. Finally this eleven year old trooper turned to leave but something stopped him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;Again, he turned to the door and rang the bell and knocked loudly on the door with his fist. He waited, something holding him there on the front porch. He rang again, and this time the door slowly opened. Standing in the doorway was a very sad looking elderly lady. She softly asked-" What can I do for you son?" With radiant eyes and a Smile that lit up her world this little boy said - "Mam, I'm sorry if I disturbed you, but I just want to tell you that JESUS REALLY DOES LOVE YOU, and I came to give you my very last Gospel Tract which will tell you all about JESUS and His great LOVE." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;With that he handed her his last tract, and turned to leave. She called to him as he departed - "Thank you son! And God Bless You!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;Well, the following Sunday Morning in Church, Pastor Dad was in the Pulpit and as the service began he asked - "Does anybody have a testimony or want to say anything?" Slowly, in the back row of the Church, an elderly lady stood to her feet. As she began to speak a look of glorious radiance came from her face as she said - "None of you in this church know me. I've neverbeen here before. You see, before last Sunday I was not a Christian. My husband passed on, some time ago, leaving me totally alone in this world. Last Sunday, being a particularly cold and rainy day, it was even more so in my heart as I came to the end of the line where I no longer had any hope or will to live. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;So I took a rope and a chair and ascended the stairway into the attic of my home. I fastened the rope securely to a rafter in the roof then stood on the chair and fastened the other end of the rope around my neck. Standing on that chair, so lonely and brokenhearted, I was about to leap off when suddenly the loud ringing of my doorbell downstairs startled me. I thought - 'I'll wait a minute, and whoever it is will go away.' I waited and waited, but the ringing doorbell seemed to get louder and more insistent and then the person ringing also started knocking loudly. I thought to myself again - 'Who on earth could this be?! Nobody ever rings my bell or comes to see me." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;I loosened the rope from my neck and started for the front door, all the while the bell rang louder and louder. When I opened the door and looked I could hardly believe my eyes for there on my front porch was the most radiant and Angelic little boy I had ever seen in my life. His SMILE, Oh, I could never describe it to you!!! And the words that came from his mouth caused my heart, that had long been dead, TO LEAP TO LIFE as he exclaimed with cherub like voice - 'Mam, I just came to tell you that JESUS REALLY DOES LOVE YOU.' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;Then he gave me this Gospel Tract that I now hold in my hand. As the little Angel disappeared back out, into the cold and rain, I closed my door and read slowly every word of this Gospel Tract. Then I went up to my attic to get my rope and chair. I wouldn't be needing them any more. You see, I am now a Happy Child of the KING, and since the address of your Church was on the back of this Gospel Tract I have come here to personally say THANK YOU TO GOD'S LITTLE ANGEL WHO CAME JUST IN THE NICK OF TIME AND, BY SO DOING, SPARED MY SOUL FROM ETERNITY IN HELL." There were now no dry eyes in the Church. And as Shouts of Praise, and Honor to THE KING, resounded off the very rafters of the building, Pastor Dad descended from the pulpit to the front pew where the little Angel was seated; He took him in his arms and sobbed uncontrollably. Probably no Church has had a more glorious moment. And probably this universe has never seen a Papa that was more filled with love &amp; honor for his son - EXCEPT for one - this FATHER also allowed His Son to go out into a Cold &amp;amp; Dark World. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993399;"&gt;He received His Son back with Joy unspeakable, and as all of Heaven Shouted Praises and Honor to THE KING, The FATHER sat HIS BELOVED SON on a Thrown far above all Principality andPower....and every name that is named.... There may be SOMEONE, reading this, who is also going through a Dark, Cold, Lonely time in your soul. You may be a Christian, for we are not without problems, or you may not yet know THE KING. Whatever the case, and whatever the problem or situation you find your- self in, and no matter how DARK it may seem, I want you to know that I just came to tell you - JESUS REALLY DOES LOVE YOU.&lt;br /&gt;&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/27849632-4603586352897045672?l=reyagbayani.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/feeds/4603586352897045672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27849632&amp;postID=4603586352897045672' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/4603586352897045672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/4603586352897045672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/2007/03/my-last-tract.html' title='&lt;FONT face=Rapunzel size=5 color=Violet &gt;My Last Tract&lt;/FONT&gt;'/><author><name>Rey A</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08146022685642916080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/STyWgJWvAKI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ZA50wjqE9iQ/S220/PhotoguniaNewspaper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27849632.post-115371203790489477</id><published>2006-07-23T20:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-23T20:33:57.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Piano Lesson</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Piano Lesson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Wishing to encourage her young son's progress on the piano, a mother took the small boy to a Paderewski concert. After they were seated, the mother spotted a friend in the audience and walked down the aisle to greet her.&lt;br /&gt;Seizing the opportunity to explore the wonders of the concert hall, the little boy rose and eventually explored his way through a door marked "NO ADMITTANCE." When the house lights dimmed and the concert was about to begin, the mother returned to her seat and discovered that her son was missing.&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, the curtains parted and spotlights focused on the impressive Steinway on stage. In horror, the mother saw her little boy sitting at the keyboard, innocently picking out "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star."&lt;br /&gt;At that moment, the great piano master made his entrance, quickly moved to the piano, and whispered in the boy's ear, "Don't quit. Keep playing."&lt;br /&gt;Then leaning over, Paderewski reached down with his left hand and began filling in a bass part. Soon his right arm reached around to the other side of the child and he added a running obligatio.&lt;br /&gt;Together, the old master and the young novice transformed a frightening situation into a wonderfully creative experience. The audience was mesmerized.&lt;br /&gt;That's the way it is with God. What we can accomplish on our own is hardly noteworthy. We try our best, but the results aren't exactly graceful flowing music. But with the hand of the Master, our life's work truly can be beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;Next time you set out to accomplish great feats, listen carefully. You can hear the voice of the Master, whispering in your ear, "Don't quit" "Keep playing." Feel His loving arms around you. Know that His strong hands are playing the concerto of your life.&lt;br /&gt;Remember, God doesn't call the equipped, He equips the called. And He'll always be there to love and guide you on to great things.&lt;br /&gt;--Author Unknown, Source Unknown&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/27849632-115371203790489477?l=reyagbayani.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/feeds/115371203790489477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27849632&amp;postID=115371203790489477' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/115371203790489477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/115371203790489477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/2006/07/piano-lessonfont.html' title='&lt;FONT face=Verdana size=4 color=purple&gt;The Piano Lesson&lt;/FONT'/><author><name>Rey A</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08146022685642916080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/STyWgJWvAKI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ZA50wjqE9iQ/S220/PhotoguniaNewspaper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27849632.post-115164205376779691</id><published>2006-06-29T23:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-29T21:56:08.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An Attitude of Gratitude</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;E-mailed by a former classmate in high school. Engrossed with our own need and daily struggle we complain and are disgruntled with what life has to offer. We never realize how lucky we are until we witness or learn about other people's misfortune or bad situation. Do we always have to be reminded for us to grateful of what we have? Iam....guilty...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;LIVE WITH AN ATTITUDE OF GRATITUDE&lt;/strong&gt; by Glen Hopkins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine for a moment one of those nights when you just can't fall asleep and you have to get up early the next morning for a very important meeting of which you are the keynote speaker. Your alarm clock goes off early in the morning waking you from what little sleep you had. You stumble out of bed, have a quick shower, grab a coffee and some toast, and off you go to fight the traffic on the way to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does that sound like the start of a terrible day? Most would answer 'yes.' Few people however, would answer, 'no.' These are the people, who are in my opinion blessed with a gift. A gift which determines how they view their life. These people live with 'an attitude of gratitude.' For them, the situation described could be worse. Much worse. For example, think of the man who doesn't have a bed, let alone a roof to over his head. When he is awoken from what little sleep he is able to get, it is by the rain falling on his cold body. He too stumbles to his feet and begins his journey to work in his bare feet. His work is in the field of survival. He searches though garbage cans for scraps of half-rotten food to eat and odd bits of clothes to keep him warm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The purpose of this example is to illustrate that we all have so much to be grateful for. Even in times when it seems that nothing could be worse, there is always a reason to be grateful. And when you feel a sense of gratitude, you feel a sense of happiness and contentment. My challenge to you today is to learn to look for the good in every situation and live with 'an attitude of gratitude.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I assure you, if you were the fellow searching for food in garbage cans you too could find things to be grateful for. You just have to look hard enough and 'open your eyes' to what is around you. You have to focus on what's good in your life, not what's bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I once was distraught because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet." - Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life works in mysterious ways. Time and time again there have been stories of people who are in a dire strait yet they are found helping others who are experiencing greater turmoil. This is because once you have helped someone in greater need than yourself, you always feel better. You feel better because you have helped another human being, and this forces you to change your mindset from focusing on&lt;br /&gt;your problems to focusing on their solutions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Always focus on the solution, not the problem and live with an attitude of gratitude! Mother Teresa was a primary example of this phenomenon. Her entire life revolved around helping others in need. As a result she experienced a great deal of love and self-satisfaction in her life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I challenge you now to take a moment to think of five things in your life that you are grateful for today. For example, your friends, your family, your job, your sense of smell, touch, sight, and sound. The list can go on and on. Imagine what your life would be like without these things. Write them down on a piece of paper and really think about the things you are grateful for. You will be amazed at how great you will feel!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27849632-115164205376779691?l=reyagbayani.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/feeds/115164205376779691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27849632&amp;postID=115164205376779691' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/115164205376779691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/115164205376779691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/2006/06/attitude-of-gratitudefont.html' title='&lt;FONT face=MATISSE ITC size=4 color=darkblue&gt;An Attitude of Gratitude&lt;/FONT'/><author><name>Rey A</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08146022685642916080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/STyWgJWvAKI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ZA50wjqE9iQ/S220/PhotoguniaNewspaper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27849632.post-115129289333353579</id><published>2006-06-25T22:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-25T20:34:53.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Through A Rapist's Eye</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Good tip for women. Nobody wants to be a victim but there's no harm in being prepared for any eventuality.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:78%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Through a Rapist's Eyes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;A group of rapists and date rapists in prison were interviewed on what they look for in a potential victim and here are some interesting facts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;The first thing men look for in a potential victim is hairstyle. They are most likely to go after a woman with a ponytail, bun, braid or other hairstyle that can easily be grabbed. They are also likely to go after a woman with long hair. Women with short hair are not common targets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second thing men look for is clothing. They will look for wome who's clothing is easy to remove quickly. Many of them carry scissors around to cut clothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They also look for women on their cell phone, searching through their purse or doing other activities while walking because they are off guard and can be easily overpowered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The time of day men are most likely to attack and rape a woman is in the early morning, between 5 and 8:30 a.m.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The number one place women are abducted from/attacked at is grocery store parking lots. Number two is office parking lots/ garages. Number three is public restrooms. The thing about these men is that they are looking to grab a woman and quickly move her to a second location where they don't have to worry about getting caught.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only 2% said they carried weapons because rape carries a 3-5 year sentence but rape with a weapon is 15-20 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you put up any kind of a fight at all, they get discouraged because it only takes a minute or two for them to realize that going after you isn't worth it because it will be time-consuming. These men said they would not pick on women who have umbrellas, or other similar objects that can be used from a distance, in their hands. Keys are not a deterrent because you have to get really close to the attacker to use them as a weapon. So, the idea is to convince these guys you're not worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several defense mechanisms he taught us are: If someone is following behind you on a street or in a garage or with you in an elevator or stairwell, look them in the face and ask them a question, like what time is it, or make general small talk, like "I can't believe it is so cold out here, we're in for a bad winter". Now you've seen their face and could identify them in a line-up, you lose appeal as a target.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If someone is coming toward you, hold out your hands in front of you and yell Stop or Stay back!&lt;br /&gt;Most of the rapists this man talked to said they'd leave a woman alone if she yelled or showed that she would not be afraid to fight back. Again, they are looking for an EASY target.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you carry pepper spray (this instructor was a huge advocate of it and carries it with her wherever she goes,) yelling I HAVE PEPPER SPRAY and holding it out will be a deterrent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If someone grabs you, you can't beat them with strength but you can by outsmarting them. If you are grabbed around the waist from behind, pinch the attacker either under the arm between the elbow and armpit or in the upper inner thigh - HARD. One woman in a class this person taught said she used the underarm pinch on a guy who was trying to date rape her and was so upset she broke through the skin and tore out muscle strands - the guy needed stitches. Try pinching yourself in those places as hard as you can stand it; it hurts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the initial hit, always go for the groin. I know from a particularly unfortunate experience that if you slap a guy's parts it is extremely painful. You might think that you'll anger the guy and make him want to hurt you more, but the thing these rapists told our instructor is that they want a woman who will not cause a lot of trouble. Start causing trouble, and he's out of there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the guy puts his hands up to you, grab his first two fingers and bend them back as far as possible with as much pressure pushing down on them as possible. The instructor did it to me without using much pressure, and I ended up on my knees and both knuckles cracked audibly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course the things we always hear still apply:&lt;br /&gt;* Always be aware of your surroundings,&lt;br /&gt;* Take someone with you if you can and if you see any odd behavior, don't dismiss it, go with your instincts.&lt;br /&gt;* You may feel a little silly at the time, but you'd feel much worse if the guy really was trouble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PLEASE READ THEN FORWARD THIS TO ANY WOMAN YOU KNOW, IT'S SIMPLE STUFFTHAT COULD SAVE HER LIFE.&lt;br /&gt;PS: Send this to any man, as well, as he can pass it on to his family or others too.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27849632-115129289333353579?l=reyagbayani.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/feeds/115129289333353579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27849632&amp;postID=115129289333353579' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/115129289333353579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/115129289333353579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/2006/06/through-rapists-eye.html' title='&lt;FONT face=MATISSE ITC size=4 color=red&gt;Through A Rapist&apos;s Eye&lt;/FONT&gt;'/><author><name>Rey A</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08146022685642916080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/STyWgJWvAKI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ZA50wjqE9iQ/S220/PhotoguniaNewspaper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27849632.post-115085703873004351</id><published>2006-06-20T21:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-20T19:30:38.746-07:00</updated><title type='text'>24 Things to Remember</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;24 Things (23 Things to Always Remember And One Thing Never to Forget) &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;1. Your presence is a present to the world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;2. You're unique and one of a kind. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;3. Your life can be what you want it to be. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;4. Take the days just one at a time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;5. Count your blessings, not your troubles. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;6. You'll make it through whatever comes along. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;7. Within you are so many answers. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;8. Understand, have courage, be strong. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;9. Don't put limits on yourself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;10. So many dreams are waiting to be realized.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;11. Decisions are too important to leave to chance.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;12. Reach for your peak, your goal, and your prize. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;13. Nothing wastes more energy than worrying. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;14. The longer one carries a problem, the heavier it gets. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;15. Don't take things too seriously.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;16. Live a life of serenity, not a life of regrets. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;17. Remember that a little love goes a long way. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;18. Remember that a lot ... goes forever. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;19. Remember that friendship is a wise investment. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;20. Life's treasures are people ... together. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;21. Realize that it's never too late. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;22. Do ordinary things in extraordinary ways. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;23. Have health and hope and happiness. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;24. Take the time to wish upon a star and don't ever forget ... for even a day ... how very special you are.&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/27849632-115085703873004351?l=reyagbayani.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/feeds/115085703873004351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27849632&amp;postID=115085703873004351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/115085703873004351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/115085703873004351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/2006/06/24-things-to-remember.html' title='&lt;FONT face=Johannes size=5 color=ORANGE&gt;24 Things to Remember&lt;/FONT&gt;'/><author><name>Rey A</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08146022685642916080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/STyWgJWvAKI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ZA50wjqE9iQ/S220/PhotoguniaNewspaper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27849632.post-115069145212093302</id><published>2006-06-18T23:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-18T21:30:52.133-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Empty Chair</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;It's a matter of faith...author unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Empty Chair  &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;A man's daughter had asked the local pastor to come and pray with her father.  When the pastor arrived, he found the man lying in bed with his head propped up on two pillows and an empty chair beside his bed.  The priest assumed that the old fellow had been informed of his visit. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;"I guess you were expecting me," he said. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;"No, who are you?"  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;"I'm the new associate at your local church," the pastor replied.  "When I saw the empty chair, I figured you knew I was going to show up." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;"Oh yeah, the chair," said the bedridden man.  "Would you mind closing the door?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;Puzzled, the pastor shut the door.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;"I've never told anyone this, not even my daughter," said the man.  "But all of my life I have never known how to pray.  At church I used to hear the pastor talk about prayer, but it always went right over my head.." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;"I abandoned any attempt at prayer," the old man continued, "until one day about four years ago my best friend said to me, 'Joe, prayer is just a simple matter of having a conversation with Jesus.  Here's what I suggest.  Sit down on a chair, place an empty chair in front of you, and in faith see Jesus on the chair.  It's not spooky because he promised, 'I'll be with you always.' Then just speak to him and listen in the same way you're doing with me right now." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;"So, I tried it and I've liked it so much that I do it a couple of hours every day.  I'm careful, though.  If my daughter saw me talking to an empty chair, she'd either have a nervous breakdown or send me off to the funny farm." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;The pastor was deeply moved by the story and encouraged the old guy to continue on the journey.  Then he prayed with him, and returned to the church. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;Two nights later the daughter called to tell the pastor that her daddy had died that afternoon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;"Did he seem to die in peace?" he asked.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;"Yes, when I left the house around two o'clock, he called me over to his bedside, told me one of his corny jokes, and kissed me on the cheek. When I got back from the store an hour later, I found him dead.  But there was something strange, In fact, beyond strange--kinda weird.  Apparently, just before Daddy died, he leaned over and rested his head on a chair beside the bed."&lt;br /&gt; &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/27849632-115069145212093302?l=reyagbayani.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/feeds/115069145212093302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27849632&amp;postID=115069145212093302' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/115069145212093302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/115069145212093302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/2006/06/empty-chair.html' title='&lt;FONT face=Rapunzel size=5 color=violet &gt;The Empty Chair&lt;/FONT&gt;'/><author><name>Rey A</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08146022685642916080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/STyWgJWvAKI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ZA50wjqE9iQ/S220/PhotoguniaNewspaper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27849632.post-115035462558729717</id><published>2006-06-15T14:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T00:06:25.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Three Things In Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I've lost track on how many times I've received this in my e-mail. It may seem numerous but it's far in between so I always find it enlightening whenever I come across it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three Things In Life...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Three things&lt;/em&gt; in life that, once gone, &lt;em&gt;never come back&lt;/em&gt; -&lt;br /&gt;Time&lt;br /&gt;Words&lt;br /&gt;Opportunity&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Three things&lt;/em&gt; in life that &lt;em&gt;may never be lost&lt;/em&gt; -&lt;br /&gt;Peace&lt;br /&gt;Hope&lt;br /&gt;Honesty&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Three things&lt;/em&gt; in life that are &lt;em&gt;most valuable&lt;/em&gt; -&lt;br /&gt;Love&lt;br /&gt;Self-confidence&lt;br /&gt;Friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Three things&lt;/em&gt; in life that are &lt;em&gt;never certain&lt;/em&gt; -&lt;br /&gt;Dreams&lt;br /&gt;Success&lt;br /&gt;Fortune&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Three things&lt;/em&gt; in life that &lt;em&gt;can make a man/woman&lt;/em&gt; -&lt;br /&gt;Hard work&lt;br /&gt;Sincerity&lt;br /&gt;Commitment&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Three things&lt;/em&gt; in life that &lt;em&gt;can destroy a man/woman&lt;/em&gt; -&lt;br /&gt;Alcohol&lt;br /&gt;Pride&lt;br /&gt;Anger&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Three things&lt;/em&gt; in life that are &lt;em&gt;truly constant&lt;/em&gt; -&lt;br /&gt;Father&lt;br /&gt;Son&lt;br /&gt;Holy Ghost&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ask the Lord to bless you, as I pray for you today; to guide you and protect you, as you go along your way.&lt;br /&gt;His love is always with you. His promises are true.&lt;br /&gt;And when you give Him all your cares, you know He'll see you through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do not allow yourself to become upset by People or Things&lt;br /&gt;They are powerless. Your Reaction is their only power.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27849632-115035462558729717?l=reyagbayani.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/feeds/115035462558729717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27849632&amp;postID=115035462558729717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/115035462558729717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/115035462558729717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/2006/06/three-things-in-life.html' title='&lt;FONT face=MATISSE ITC size=4 color=blue&gt;Three Things In Life&lt;/FONT&gt;'/><author><name>Rey A</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08146022685642916080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/STyWgJWvAKI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ZA50wjqE9iQ/S220/PhotoguniaNewspaper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27849632.post-114965663008099274</id><published>2006-06-07T00:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-25T18:24:59.328-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm a Christian</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Another article I received through e mail. Sender not noted...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;The following poem reminds me of Ann Landers (newspaper advice columnist) response to a person who wrote she didn't attend church because the so-called Christians were all a bunch of hypocrites that acted like saints on Sunday and sinned the rest of the week. Ann told her the church was not a place for saints... it's a hospital for sinners. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'M A CHRISTIAN&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;by Maya Angelou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;When I say... "I am a Christian"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I'm not shouting "I'm clean livin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;"I'm whispering " I was lost, "Now I'm found and forgiven.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;When I say... "I am a Christian"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I don't speak of this with pride.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I'm confessing that I stumble and need CHRIST to be my guide.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;When I say... "I am a Christian"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I'm not trying to be strong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I'm professing that I'm weak and need HIS strength to carry on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;When I say... "I am a Christian&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;"I'm not bragging of success.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I'm admitting I have failed and need God to clean my mess.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;When I say... "I am a Christian"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I'm not claiming to be perfect,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;My flaws are far too visible but, God believes I'm worth it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;When I say... "I am a Christian"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I still feel the sting of pain,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I have my share of heartaches So I call upon His name.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;When I say... "I am a Christian"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I'm not holier than thou,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I'm just a simple sinner who received God's grace, somehow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;When I say "I am a Christian" that means &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I believe that Jesus is the Christ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;and without his Grace and Salvation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I would have remained a MESS the rest of my life.&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/27849632-114965663008099274?l=reyagbayani.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/feeds/114965663008099274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27849632&amp;postID=114965663008099274' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/114965663008099274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/114965663008099274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/2006/06/im-christian.html' title='&lt;FONT face=Rapunzel size=5 color=Violet &gt;I&apos;m a Christian&lt;/FONT&gt;'/><author><name>Rey A</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08146022685642916080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/STyWgJWvAKI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ZA50wjqE9iQ/S220/PhotoguniaNewspaper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27849632.post-114827062500662476</id><published>2006-05-21T23:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-21T21:03:45.016-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Potentially and Realistically</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Life can be a joke so let's have a laugh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Potentially and Realistically &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;A young boy went up to his father and asked him, "Dad, what is the difference between potentially and realistically?" The father thought for a moment, then answered, "Go ask your mother if she would sleep with Robert Redford for a million dollars. Then ask your sister if she would sleep with Brad Pitt for a million dollars, and ask your brother if he'd sleep with Tom Cruise for a million dollars. Come back and tell me what you learn from that." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So the boy went to his mother and asked, "Would you sleep with Robert Redford for a million dollars?" The mother replied, "Of course I would. I  wouldn't pass up an opportunity like that." The boy then went to his sister and asked, "Would you sleep with Brad Pitt for a million dollars?" The girl replied, "Would I? I would just love to do that! I would be nuts to pass up that opportunity!" The boy then went to his brother and asked, "Would you sleep with Tom Cruise for a million dollars?" "Of course," the brother replied. "Do you know how much a million could buy?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The boy pondered that for a few days, then went back to his dad. His father asked him, "Did you find out the difference between potentially and realistically?"  The boy replied, "Yes, sir. Potentially, we're sitting on three million dollars, but realistically, we're living with two sluts and a fag."&lt;br /&gt; &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/27849632-114827062500662476?l=reyagbayani.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/feeds/114827062500662476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27849632&amp;postID=114827062500662476' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/114827062500662476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/114827062500662476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/2006/05/potentially-and-realistically.html' title='&lt;FONT face=Johannes size=5 color=BLACK&gt;Potentially and Realistically&lt;/FONT&gt;'/><author><name>Rey A</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08146022685642916080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/STyWgJWvAKI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ZA50wjqE9iQ/S220/PhotoguniaNewspaper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27849632.post-114810126097936009</id><published>2006-05-19T23:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-19T22:01:01.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chain Letters</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Irritated or annoyed of receiving e-mail chain letters especially those with dire warnings or appealing to your conscience. Well according to the article below, it may be the final word on the matter. Read on but a word of caution, there's a lot of expletives and f_ word.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chain Letters&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To any of you who are sick and tired of crappy chain letters, this may be the final word on the matter.....Hello, my name is Basmati Kasaar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am suffering from rare and deadly diseases, poor scores on final exams, extreme virginity, fear of being kidnapped and executed by anal electrocution, and guilt for not forwarding out 50 billion fucking chain letters sent to me by people who actually believe that if you send them on, then that poor 6 year old girl in Arkansas with a breast on her forehead will be able to raise enough money to have it removed before her redneck parents sell her off to the travelling freak show.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you honestly believe that Bill Gates is going to give you and everyone you send "his" e-mail to $1000? How stupid are you? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ooooh, lookyhere! If I scroll down this page and make a wish, I'll get laid by every Playboy model in the magazine! What a bunch of bullshit. So basically, this message is a big UP YOURS to all the people out there who have nothing better to do than to send me stupid chain mail forwards. Maybe the evil chain letter leprechauns will come into my apartment and sodomize me in my sleep for not continuing the chain which was started by Herod in 5 A.D. and was brought to this country by midget pilgrims on the Mayflower and if it makes it to the year 2000, it'll be in the Guinness Book of World Records for longest continuous streak of blatant stupidity. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're going to forward something, at least send me something mildly amusing. I've seen all the "send this to 50 of your closest friends, and this poor, wretched excuse for a human being will somehow receive a nickel from some omniscient being" forwards about 90 times. I don't care.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Show a little intelligence and think about what you're actually contributing to by sending out forwards. Chances are it's your own unpopularity. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE FOUR BASIC TYPES OF CHAIN LETTERS:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chain Letter Type 1: Make a wish!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;No, really, go on and make one!!! ……..  Oh please, get real, they'll never go out with you!!!&lt;br /&gt;Wish something else!!! …...   Not that, you pervert!!&lt;br /&gt;Is your finger getting tired yet?&lt;br /&gt;STOP!!!!Wasn't that fun? :)&lt;br /&gt;Hope you made a great wish :)&lt;br /&gt;Now, to make you feel guilty, here's what I'll do. First of all, if you don't send this to 5,096 people in the next 5 seconds, you will be raped by a mad goat and thrown off a high building into a pile of manure. It's true!&lt;br /&gt;Because, THIS letter isn't like all of those fake ones, THIS one is TRUE!! TRUE!! TRUE!!!&lt;br /&gt;Really!!! Here's how it goes:&lt;br /&gt;*Send this to 1 person: One person will be pissed off at you for sending them a stupid chain letter.*Send this to 2-5 people: 2-5 people will be pissed off at you for sending them a stupid chain letter.*Send this to 5-10 people: 5-10 people will be pissed off at you for sending them a stupid chain letter, and may form a plot on your life.&lt;br /&gt;*Send this to 10-20 people: 10-20 people will be pissed off at you for sending them a stupid chain letter and will napalm your house.&lt;br /&gt;Thanks!!!! Good Luck!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chain Letter Type 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Hello, and thank you for reading this letter. You see, there is a starving little boy in Baklaliviatatlaglooshen who has no arms, no legs, no parents, and no goats. This little boy's life could be saved because for every time you pass this on, a dollar will be donated to the Little Starving Legless Armless Goatless Boy from Baklaliviatatlaglooshen Fund.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and remember, we have absolutely no way of counting the e-mails sent and this is all a complete load of bullshit. So go on, reach out. Send this to 5 people in the next 47 seconds. Oh, and a reminder - if you accidentally send this to 4 or 6 people, you will die instantly. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Chain Letter Type 3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Hi there!! This chain letter has been in existence since 1897. This is absolutely incredible because there was no e-mail then and probably not as many sad pricks with nothing better to do. So this is how it works:Pass this on to 15,067 people in the next 7 minutes or something horrible will happen to you like:*Bizarre Horror Story #1 - Miranda Pinsley was walking home from school on Saturday. She had recently received this letter and ignored it. She then tripped in a crack in the sidewalk, fell into the sewer, was gushed down a drainpipe in a flood of shit, and went flying out over a waterfall. Not only did she smell nasty, she died. This Could Happen To You!!!&lt;br /&gt;*Bizarre Horror Story #2  - Dexter Bip, a 13 year old boy, got a chain letter in his mail and ignored it. Later that day, he was hit by a car and so was his boyfriend (hey, some people swing that way). They both died and went to hell and were cursed to eat adorable kittens every day for eternity. This Could Happen To You Too!!!&lt;br /&gt;Remember, you could end up just like Pinsley and Bip. Just send this letter to all of your loser friends, and everything will be okay. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Chain Letter Type 4:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;As if you care, here is a poem that I wrote. Send it to every one of your friends.&lt;br /&gt;Friends&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A friend is someone who is always at your side,&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who likes you even though you stink of shit, and your breath smells like you've been eating catfood,&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who likes you even though you're as ugly as a hat full of arseholes,&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who cleans up for you after you've soiled yourself,&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who stays with you all night while you cry about your sad, sad life,&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who pretends they like you when they really think you should be raped by mad goats, then thrown to vicious dogs,&lt;br /&gt;A friend is someone who scrubs your toilet, vacuums and then gets the cheque and leaves and doesn't speak much English .… oops, no, sorry that's the cleaning lady,&lt;br /&gt;A friend is not someone who sends you chain letters because he wants his wish of being rich to come true.Now pass this on! If you don't, you'll never have sex ever again.&lt;br /&gt;The point being? ? If you get some chain letter that's threatening to leave you shagless or luckless for the rest of your life, delete it. If it's funny, send it on.&lt;br /&gt;Don't piss people off by making them feel guilty about a leper in Botswana with no teeth, who's been tied to a dead elephant for 27 years, whose only saviour is the 5 cents per letter he'll receive if you forward this mail, otherwise you'll end up like Pamela. Right? Now forward this to everyone you know otherwise you'll find all your underwear missing tomorrow morning …. and that my Friend is TRUE!!!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&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/27849632-114810126097936009?l=reyagbayani.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/feeds/114810126097936009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27849632&amp;postID=114810126097936009' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/114810126097936009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/114810126097936009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/2006/05/chain-letters.html' title='&lt;FONT face=Comic Sans size=4 color=salmon&gt;Chain Letters&lt;/FONT&gt;'/><author><name>Rey A</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08146022685642916080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/STyWgJWvAKI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ZA50wjqE9iQ/S220/PhotoguniaNewspaper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27849632.post-114792646752680204</id><published>2006-05-17T23:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-17T21:27:47.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Does Love Mean</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;Simple, profound, innocent answers...from children&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What Does Love Mean?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds, "What does love mean?" The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined.&lt;br /&gt;See what you think:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love." Rebecca- age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth." Billy - age 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other." Karl - age 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs." Chrissy -age 6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired." Terri - age 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK." Danny - age 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss" Emily - age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen." Bobby - age 7 (Wow!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate,"Nikka - age 6 (we need a few million more Nikka's on this planet)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday."Noelle - age 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well." Tommy - age 6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore." Cindy - age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;"My mommy loves me more than anybody . You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night." Clare - age 6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken." Elaine-age 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford." Chris - age 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day."Mary Ann - age 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones." Lauren - age 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." (what an imagination) Karen - age 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross."Mark - age 6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget." Jessica - age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;And the final one -- Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child.The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said, "Nothing, Ijust helped him cry"&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/27849632-114792646752680204?l=reyagbayani.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/feeds/114792646752680204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27849632&amp;postID=114792646752680204' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/114792646752680204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/114792646752680204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/2006/05/what-does-love-mean.html' title='&lt;FONT size=&quot;4&quot; font=&quot;trebuchet&quot; color=&quot;violet&quot;&gt;What Does Love Mean&lt;/FONT&gt;'/><author><name>Rey A</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08146022685642916080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/STyWgJWvAKI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ZA50wjqE9iQ/S220/PhotoguniaNewspaper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27849632.post-114784087344884861</id><published>2006-05-16T23:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-16T21:50:28.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Perfection At The Plate</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Here's another e-mailed story I received a few years back. Inspiring. I just copied and paste it in toto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Perfection at the Plate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;In the competitive world of the 1990's, one wonders whether the old adage still holds true: "It's not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game." The following true story illustrates the power of human concern - even in the face of intense competition.&lt;br /&gt;In Brooklyn, New York, Chush is a school that caters to learning-disabled children. Some children remain in Chush for their entire school careers, while others can be mainstreamed into conventional Jewish schools. There are a few children who attend Chush for most of the week and go to a regular school on Sundays. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;At a Chush fundraising dinner, the father of a Chush child delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he cried out, "Where is the perfection in my son Shaya? Everything that God does is done with perfection. But my child cannot understand things as other children do. My child cannot remember facts and figures as other children do. Where is God's perfection?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;The audience was shocked by the question, pained by the father's anguish, and stilled by his piercing query. "I believe," the father answered, "that when God brings a child like this into the world, the perfection that He seeks is in the way people react to this child."&lt;br /&gt;He then told the following story about his son Shaya: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;One Sunday afternoon, Shaya and his father came to the yeshiva just as his classmates were playing baseball. The game was in progress and as Shaya and his father made their way towards the ball field, Shaya said, "Do you think you could get me into the game?" Shaya's father knew his son was not at all athletic, and that most boys would not want him on their team. But Shaya's father understood that if his son was chosen in, it would give him a comfortable sense of belonging. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Shaya's father approached one of the boys in the field and asked, "Do you think my Shaya could get into the game?" The boy looked around for guidance from his teammates. Getting none, he took matters into his own hands and said, "We are losing by six runs and the game is already in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him up to bat in the ninth inning." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Shaya's father was ecstatic as Shaya smiled broadly. Shaya was told to put on a glove and go out to play short center field. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shaya's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shaya's team scored again - and now with two outs and the bases loaded and the potential winning runs on base, Shaya was scheduled to be up. Would the team actually let Shaya bat at this juncture and give away their chance to win the game? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Surprisingly, Shaya was told to take a bat and try to get a hit. Everyone knew that it was all but impossible, for Shaya didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, let alone hit with it. However as Shaya stepped up to the plate, the pitcher moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shaya should at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came in and Shaya swung clumsily and missed. One of Shaya's teammates came up to Shaya and together they held the bat and faced the pitcher waiting for the next pitch. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shaya. As the next pitch came in, Shaya and his teammate swung the bat and together they hit a slow ground ball to the pitcher. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could easily have thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shaya would have been out and that would have ended the game. Instead, the pitcher took the ball and threw it on a high arc to right field, far and wide beyond the first baseman's reach. Everyone started yelling, "Shaya, run to first! Shaya, run to first!" Never in his life had Shaya run to first. He scampered down the baseline wide eyed and startled. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;By the time he reached first base, the right fielder had the ball. He could have thrown the ball to the second baseman who would tag out Shaya, who was still running. But the right fielder understood what the pitcher's intentions were, so he threw the ball high and far over the third baseman's head, as everyone yelled, "Shaya, run to second! Shaya, run to second." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Shaya ran towards second base as the runners ahead of him deliriously circled the bases towards home. As Shaya reached second base, the opposing shortstop ran towards him, turned him towards the direction of third base and shouted, "Shaya, run to third!" As Shaya rounded third, the boys from both teams ran behind him screaming, "Shaya, run home! Shaya, run home!" Shaya ran home, stepped on home plate and all 18 boys lifted him on their shoulders and made him the hero, as he had just hit the "grand slam" and won the game for his team. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;"That day," said the father who now had tears rolling down his face, "those 18 boys reached their level of perfection. They showed that it is not only those who are talented that should be recognized, but also those who have less talent. They too are human beings, they too have feelings and emotions, they too are people, they too want to feel important."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.uinspire.com/bbAuthorsItemsWrapper.asp?AuthorCode=104032&amp;AuthorName=Rabbi+Paysach+Krohn&amp;amp;value=Q-T"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;Rabbi Paysach Krohn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27849632-114784087344884861?l=reyagbayani.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/feeds/114784087344884861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27849632&amp;postID=114784087344884861' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/114784087344884861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/114784087344884861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/2006/05/perfection-at-plate.html' title='&lt;FONT face=Rapunzel size=5 color=blue &gt;Perfection At The Plate&lt;/FONT&gt;'/><author><name>Rey A</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08146022685642916080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/STyWgJWvAKI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ZA50wjqE9iQ/S220/PhotoguniaNewspaper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27849632.post-114758141338251025</id><published>2006-05-14T22:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-14T20:39:10.213-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Let's Phrase History</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;Here's a lesson in history or how some phrases came about. If any reader knows the source or author of this article please leave a message.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Slice of Life During the 1500s: &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May and still smelled pretty good by June. However, they were starting to smell so brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women, and finally the children -- last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it. Hence the saying, "Don't throw the baby out with the bath water." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;Houses had thatched roofs (thick straw piled high), with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the dogs, cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof. Hence the saying, "It's raining cats and dogs." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house, which posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could really mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy beds came into existence. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt. Hence the saying "dirt poor." The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on the floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they kept adding more thresh until when you opened the door it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entranceway. Hence the saying a "thresh hold." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire. Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;Sometimes the stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the rhyme, "Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man "could bring home the bacon." They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and chew the fat." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning and death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or "upper crust." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would sometimes knock them out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a "wake." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house" and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive. So they thought they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the "graveyard shift") to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be "saved by the bell" or was considered a "dead ringer." And that's the truth...... Now, whoever said that History was boring ! ! ! !Educate someone...Share these facts with a friend...&lt;br /&gt;&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/27849632-114758141338251025?l=reyagbayani.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/feeds/114758141338251025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27849632&amp;postID=114758141338251025' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/114758141338251025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/114758141338251025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/2006/05/lets-phrase-history.html' title='&lt;FONT face=Comic Sans size=4 color=orange&gt;Let&apos;s Phrase History&lt;/FONT&gt;'/><author><name>Rey A</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08146022685642916080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/STyWgJWvAKI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ZA50wjqE9iQ/S220/PhotoguniaNewspaper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27849632.post-114741350818967905</id><published>2006-05-11T23:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-27T19:49:48.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How Blessed We Are</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;This is another article that I received through the e-mail. An interesting read.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;HOW BLESSED WE ALL ARE! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;If Earth's population were shrunk into a village of just 100 people, with all the human ratios existing in the world still remaining, what would this tiny, diverse village look like? That's exactly what Phillip M. Harter, a medical doctor at the Stanford University School of Medicine, attempted to figure out. This is what he found: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;57 would be Asian&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;21 would be European&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;14 would be from the Western Hemisphere &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;8 would be African&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;52 would be female&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;48 would be male&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;70 would be nonwhite&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;30 would be white&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;70 would be non-Christian&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;30 would be Christian&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;89 would be heterosexual&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;11 would be homosexual &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;6 people would possess 59 percent of the entire world's wealth, and all 6 would be from the United States.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;80 would live in substandard housing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;70 would be unable to read&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;50 would suffer from malnutrition &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;1 would be near death &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;1 would be pregnant &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;1 would have a college education &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;1 would own a computer &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;The following is an anonymous interpretation:Think of it this way. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;If you live in a good home, have plenty to eat and can read, you are a member of a very select group. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;And if you have a good house, food, can read and have a computer, you are among the very elite. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;If you woke up this morning with more health than illness...you are more fortunate than the million who will not survive this week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;If you have never experienced the danger of battle, the loneliness of imprisonment, the agony of torture, or the pangs of starvation...you are ahead of 500 million people in the world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;If you can attend a church meeting without fear of harassment, arrest, torture, or death...you are fortunate, more than three billion people in the world can't. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;If you have food in the refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roof overhead and a place to sleep...you are richer than 75% of this world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;If you have money in the bank, in your wallet, and spare change in a dish someplace...you are among the top 8% of the world's wealthy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;If your parents are still alive and still married...you are very rare, even in the United States. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;If you hold up your head with a smile on your face and are truly thankful....you are blessed because the majority can, but most do not. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;If you can hold someone's hand, hug them or even touch them on shoulder....you are blessed because you can offer healing touch. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;If you can read this message you are more blessed than over two billion people in the world that cannot read at all. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;So count your blessings.&lt;br /&gt;&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/27849632-114741350818967905?l=reyagbayani.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/feeds/114741350818967905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27849632&amp;postID=114741350818967905' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/114741350818967905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/114741350818967905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/2006/05/how-blessed-we-are.html' title='&lt;FONT face=MATISSE ITC size=4 color=green&gt;How Blessed We Are&lt;/FONT&gt;'/><author><name>Rey A</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08146022685642916080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/STyWgJWvAKI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ZA50wjqE9iQ/S220/PhotoguniaNewspaper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27849632.post-114731219342204534</id><published>2006-05-10T20:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-10T18:49:53.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Common Sense Obituary</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;There is a saying that of all the human senses, common sense is the most uncommon of all. This is an article sent to me. It just about explains everything why sometimes we are hesitant or at a loss to take action on a situation for fear of being sued though we know it is the right thing to do. The opposite are persons in authority taking things to extreme because of "zero tolerance". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Common Sense Obituary &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Today we mourn the passing of an old friend, by the name of Common Sense. Common Sense lived a long life but died in the United States from heart failure on the brink of the new millennium. No one really knows how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;He selflessly devoted his life to service in schools, hospitals, homes, factories helping folks get jobs done without fanfare and foolishness. For decades, petty rules, silly laws, and frivolous lawsuits held no Power over Common Sense.  He was credited with cultivating such valued lessons as to know when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm, and that life isn't always fair. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn), reliable parenting strategies (the adults are in charge not the kids), and it's okay to come in second.  A veteran of the Industrial Revolution, the Great Depression, and the Technological Revolution, Common Sense survived cultural and educational trends including body piercing, whole language, and "new math." But his health declined when he became infected with the "If-it-only-helps-one-person-it's-worth-it" virus. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;In recent decades his waning strength proved no match for the ravages of well intentioned but overbearing regulations.  He watched in pain as good people became ruled by self-seeking lawyers.  His health rapidly deteriorated when schools endlessly implemented zero-tolerance policies. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Reports of a six-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate, a teen suspended for taking a swig of mouthwash after lunch, and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student only worsened his condition. It declined even further when schools had to get parental consent to administer aspirin to a student but could not inform the parent when a female student was pregnant or wanted an abortion. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Finally, Common Sense lost his will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband, churches became businesses, criminals received better treatment than victims, and federal judges stuck their noses in everything from the Boy Scouts to professional sports.  Finally, when woman, too stupid to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot, was awarded a huge settlement, Common Sense threw in the towel. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;As the end neared, Common Sense drifted in and out of logic but was kept informed of developments regarding questionable regulations such as those for low flow toilets, rocking chairs, and stepladders. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason.  He is survived by two stepbrothers: My Rights, and Ima Whiner.  Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Written on August 25th 1992 by Dr. Gwendolyn Tatum Glattfelder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &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/27849632-114731219342204534?l=reyagbayani.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/feeds/114731219342204534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27849632&amp;postID=114731219342204534' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/114731219342204534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27849632/posts/default/114731219342204534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reyagbayani.blogspot.com/2006/05/common-sense-obituary.html' title='&lt;FONT face=MATISSE ITC size=4 color=red &gt;Common Sense Obituary&lt;/FONT&gt;'/><author><name>Rey A</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08146022685642916080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__bqEoek09sE/STyWgJWvAKI/AAAAAAAAAtE/ZA50wjqE9iQ/S220/PhotoguniaNewspaper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
