Yeah, Brit, Just What the Hell Were You Thinking?- Is it true that celebrity blondes have more fun, or are they really just on the dumb side?  In the case of Britney Spears, you have to ask yourself that question a few hundred times before you come up with the right answer.  Kevin Federline, booze and drug binges, a highly public custody battle.  The list goes on and one and the saga of a fallen star never ends.  So, If you're wondering what the hell was going through Britney Spears' head during her erratic era, you are not alone — so does she.  The 90-minute special, "Britney: For The Record," was executive-produced by Spears' manager Larry Randolph. It features behind-the-scenes footage of the singer and her talking about her life over the past two years.  "I sit there and I look back and I'm like, 'I'm a smart person. What the hell was I thinking?'" Spears said in an interview to air on MTV on Nov. 30, two days before the release of her new album (Entertainment: Yeah, Brit).  She's got a lot to talk about.  In that time span she has gotten divorced, been through a custody battle, gone to rehab, had very public meltdowns and had one memorably bad performance at the MTV Video Music Awards.  With all of this going on, no wonder the poor girl started smoking mad amounts crack and popping pills like they were life savers.  When you have all that money and things get nutty, you do what all has-been pop stars on the downward spiral do:  party, sleep around, shave your head and eat like food is going out of style.  It's like she's the female version of a modern-day Elvis, only she won't leave the damn building and nobody is loving her tender.  Get with it Brit.  The days of self-indulgement are over.  You're broke, out of shape and the Mickey Mouse clubbers from yesteryear are all grown up and are on to bigger and better things.  Get in shape, find a real job and tell K-Fed to keep the kid, at least until you get your act back together.  Oops, you did it again.  If you didn't, you will sooner or later.  All fleeting celebrities fall off the wagon, then they jump right back on for another ride.  Weeeeeeeeeee.

I got through my teen years and twenties personally unscathed by true addiction, despite my recreational dabblings. Or so I thought. I don't need to shoot up something that comes in a baggie to get myself out of the house in the morning or to make it through the work day. Hell, I'm practically a model citizen. All I need is 200 mg of Lamictal, 300 mg of Effexor, a large muffin, 2 king-sized candy bars, and a couple of Diet Dr Peppers. And then some more chocolate after dinner.

I'm a true sugar junkie and it's so embarrassing and unhip. My unfortunate ex would probably die laughing if he could see me now: 75 pounds heavier and hopelessly chained to an unbreakable and destructive routine of my own. But what's laughable about sugar? The sugar we eat most often has been refined and refined and refined until it is many, many times more concentrated that the cane or the beet it came from. Sometimes I wonder if it isn't just a slow-acting poison I'm scarfing down. It has no nutritional value at all. None.

I'm a sugar junkie. If I don't have a chocolate bar nearby, I actually get twitchy and my fingers start clenching into little anxious fists. I've long know that my constant overconsumption of sugary foods has been the biggest contributor to my colossal weight gain in the past five years. What I'm only just now waking up to is the likelihood that my endless pursuit of sweets may be making my depression much worse than it needs to be, not to mention contributing to those random bitchy moods the unfortunates in my vicinity have to witness. Between the sugar and my lack of exercise, I'm digging a hole for myself like I'm trying to reach China or something.

Right now I wonder if I can claw my way back out. I still have hope, still keep researching even as I reach for the next sugar fix. Has anyone out there ever just turned the sugar and/or white flour faucet off completely? Were you in misery during your withdrawal? How did you cope? Anyone out there with depression or other mood disorders who finds cutting out sugars to be helpful? (To clarify: I'm not talking about ditching all carbs; I'm specifically focusing on sucrose and other industrially processed forms of sugar. I'm not interested in cutting brown rice or apples out of my life, for instance.)

Substantial weight loss is a major goal for me. If I could accomplish that while at the same time sorting out some of my misfiring brain chemistry in a way that involved eating better and not ingesting more medications, I'd be thrilled.

Sugar cane plants growing in the tropics. Poppies in the Middle East. And yet somehow it all ends up so unnatural and destructive, no matter how you process it. It's not the plants' fault, I suppose; it's what we do with them.

--Fray

Yip, i'm signing up....

I was just a girl,

And it was just some decade,

In that time lived you,

And then, another.

I was just a girl,

Without a home,

No family,

And a hole for a heart.

You were tall and dangerous,

Tall and hump-backed with Marfan’s,

Your connective tissue disintegrating with each minute,

Monkish with a single bed, a bag of dope, and a pile of books,

Perfect for an empty-hearted girl.

We filled each other’s hearts,

Pouring our loneliness and need back and forth,

I took yours and you took mine,

You took mine and gave me yours;

An empty-hearted girl and a doped up monk,

We loved well together.

Hearts are strange,

Made of muscle and blood,

But also need and loneliness,

(remember all that loneliness going back and forth?).

And junkie hearts collapse sometimes,

All that loneliness tearing into the aorta,

Thinning the walls,

Until there is no wall, but a hole.

Sick junkies,

Well, it’s even worse,

And you were dying, dying,

We didn’t know it until the last year.

It was the year of the bicentennial,

Everything was red, white, and blue,

You read Gurdjieff,

In the muslin robe I made you,

Even after six years and two babies you remained a monk.

You’d had a dream of hospitals,

A dream of your blood flooding your heart,

You spent days and nights praying that you wouldn’t be reborn,

Readying yourself for death,

Once was enough, you said.

On Thanksgiving day you fell,

You were holding your guitar in our yellow kitchen,

You fell, the guitar fell,

To the floor,

We all fell into a week of dying.

There were hospitals,

Doctors who thought you were just another junkie looking for some Talwin,

That tried to send you home.

Later doctors speaking Pakistani drew me pictures of your heart on paper napkins,

And explained where your blood was seeping, was seeping,

It was everywhere, but mostly your chest.

The week was hollow,

All sound sucked out by your dying,

I hitch-hiked from our place to your bed in the I.C.U.,

Where you laid too tall,

Your bony feet sticking out,

Your bony chest and long fingers so waxy white.

I wanted to bring you home,

But I was only twenty,

And the hospital was bright and scary,

With doctors telling me our business over and over and over.

After one week, you died,

Your heart torn into flapping tissue,

By Marfans and junk,

My heart filled with our years together,

And particularly the year of your dying,

Until my heart was bursting, aching with loss,

And the empty-hearted girl finally was full,

And so here is when I started to decide to stop.

I measure everything by the distance from the last time we fucked until now,

The last time we fucked was after some party,

I was there alone, or at least not with you.

The room was full of feminists listening to Holly Near and talking earnestly about Reagan,

So I got drunk on vodka and missed you.

You would never have been invited,

And if you somehow were at that party,

You would have told them that they were fucking classist bitches,

Just like that.

Then you would have swept me out of there,

Getting us both banned for a while,

Or at least until they wanted to score some ‘ludes or some “strange”,

Which is what the straight boys called it and that is what you were.

I drank until I had to beg them to take me to your apartment,

Me all blurred and needy and crying for you,

You were crashing at some vet’s in a cheap duplex in the South end,

You let me in and we stumbled onto the blue polyester sleeping bag.

It was on the living room floor spread out in front of the big television,

Picture on and sound off.

I promised to take you away to New York city,

Where we could be free,

And I left you in the morning.

Five years later you overdosed on the bathroom floor of a fast food restaurant,

And I wailed walking in circles, in circles for the loss of you,

You lying on the cool, greasy tile floor dying,

And me sober living in a farmhouse.

Fuck this, fuck it all.

I want to redo our last fuck and make it magic,

Spread out the sleeping bag in the starry night and lay like clouds or colts,

In the moonlight all blue and sweet.

We were magic sometimes, we were.

Those of us who believe more in separation and competition (every man is an island, life is a contest to determine who wins and who loses) will support John McCain.

Those of us who believe more in oneness, separation and cooperation will support Barack Obama.

I added the word "more" in each statement because it brings each statement closer to reality. Our belief systems are dynamic and changing all the time. There are reasons for everything we do and when those reasons change, so do our belief systems.

Last night, September 26, 2008 on CNN, Barack Obama was considered the clear winner by every measure during and immediately after the debate. In the Political Analyst poll, he won by a score of 2 to 1 (44 to 22, after subtracting the negatives from the positives). In phone polls immediately after the debate, Obama came out on top. Today, the main stream media is beginning to spin the truth and say that McCain won because he sounded "stronger". (Slate said, "Tie goes to Obama" and Newsweek said, "Win to McCain".)

Closed is more like it. As McCain criticized Obama for his willingness to talk with opposition leaders, I couldn't help but tie it to family life and relations. Giving people the silent treatment works, alright but it works against you, not for you! I know, I used it early in my marriage, and even with my young children. As far as I was concerned, it was my way or the highway. I was unwilling to consider anyone else's needs or compromise. I wouldn't say I was simply a spoiled child; just that I didn't know any better. Does this sound familiar?

Another thing that bugged me last night was the way Republican and Democratic advisors tried to spin the results immediately after the debate, in an attempt to shift public opinion. An advisor to John McCain, Nicole Wallace, (still on CNN) tried to make it seem like McCain ran away with the debate. As I watched her spin a tale far from the reality of public opinion, I was dumbfounded. She reminded me of a talking doll with a string in back. Pull the string and you get a predetermined message that never changes, no matter what the circumstances. Like some hollow man, her response seemed devoid of all reason. To a lesser extent, you could say the same of Democratic advisor, Paul Begala, and Republican advisor, Bill Bennett, although they were more obvious about it, like they knew it was a joke and you were in on it.

I don't know how people can do this! Many years ago I was chairman of the Parent- Teacher Committee at my children's elementary school in San Francisco. One of our responsibilities was to select an architectural firm to build a replacement school. In the process of interviewing various firms, the liaison from the Redevelopment Agency and I became friends. We'd go out to lunch together and once he even asked me to attend a community meeting with him in another part of the city. The next time we had lunch, he asked me if I wanted a job with the Redevelopment Agency. He knew I had a college degree but was currently staying home to take care of the kids while my wife worked.

As we sat in his car after lunch, he told me I had paid my dues and it was time to get my reward. He then offered me an Executive Assistant job at the Redevelopment Agency that sounded interesting, although I did wonder if I was qualified and could be effective at it. In exchange, he went on, "All you have to do is support my agenda." As this statement sank in, I felt a gigantic invisible snail crawl over me, depositing slime in every crack and crevice of my body. What?, I quickly responded, You've got to be kidding; I can't ignore my own conscience! If I can't be my own person, I don't want the job! I then shared my snail story with him. I don't know if he was embarrassed or angry but he started the car and took me home in silence, and that was the last time I ever saw him.

The point is, can we trust ourselves and one another if we divorce ourselves from our feelings? I look at feelings as part of a democratic process. For me, they represent the collective reaction of my entire body and everything beyond it. If we don't listen to them, we do so at our own peril. Some people think a disconnection between thought and feeling as sociopathic. Can we afford to let sociopaths make decisions that affect all of us?

Likewise, can we trust people who believe in separation and competition to make sound judgments regarding issues that affect all of us? If you strongly believed that we're all separate and life is a matter of survival of the fittest, would you go into public service or become a corporate executive to do what's best for mankind or just yourself? I think the answer is clear. You'd go into public service and climb the corporate ladder to secure your own future, not that of the public. When we believe in separation and competition as a function of survival, we're going to look out for our own best interest, not that of other people beyond what it takes to keep our job.

The danger of this negative or limited world view lies, not only in the divorce of thought from feeling, but in the addictive power of money, power and privilege. When all we ask ourselves is, "What's going to work best for me?", we set ourselves off on a path of conflict and, ultimately, self-destruction. Like electrons in a poor conductor, when we all move in different directions, we inevitably crash into each, canceling out each other's momentum. Consequently, there is no net gain or work. Fortunately, many of us believe in oneness, separation and cooperation; otherwise, chaos would rule and coherent, or intelligent, life could not exist. Unfortunately, many of us do strongly believe in separation and competition and, as a result, we have a large number of money, power and privilege junkies running business and government who make decisions that affect everyone's lives.

Driven by fear and greed, we become overachievers who stop at nothing to accomplish our goals and prove to the world, we're somebody. We don't recognize we're someone already and that there's nothing we have to do to prove it. If we could regularly quiet in our minds and let our feelings flow naturally, we'd see how amazing we are and how our thoughts, feelings and expectations form our reality.

(Competition works best when it's kept internal. In other words, when we ask ourselves, how can I do better today than I did yesterday or, how can we do better today than we did yesterday? When we place our value system outside and start comparing ourselves to one another, cooperation breaks down, which leads to hurt feelings, exploitation and outbreaks of violent behavior.)

After the debate, we watched the Bill Maher show. Besides Ralph Nader and actor, Tim Daly, he had Political  Commentator and Republican, Lisa Schiffren, on his panel of guests. She  talked about how smart the Secretary of the Treasury, and former CEO of Goldman Sachs, Henry Paulson, is and how we should trust him to know what's best for us in solving the current financial bailout of Wall Street. Hogwash, there's a huge difference between cleverness and wisdom! It's one thing to excel in math or English, limited fields of experience, and it's another thing to see how ALL things are connected and interdependent. Make a change here and a change happens over there. We need to be good at seeing the big picture as well as the small ones to maximize our survivability as individuals and a country. Most of us don't know what Henry Paulson's personal philosophy is, therefore, it behooves us to pay attention and exercise control over this bailout process, up to and including, nationalization of the Federal Reserve. We can't let people with self-centered and self-serving intentions shape the future for all of us. Wake up, America! Wake up, World!

Final Note

What would the world be like if, instead or competing for money, power and privilege, we cared more about becoming better people and creating a better world? What would the world be like if, instead of asking, "What's going to work best for me?", we asked, What's going to work best for ALL of us, in personal terms, and in terms of business, education, the environment and peace? We need to value both our oneness and individuality, both our inner selves and outer selves to have the balance and wisdom we need to survive. By working together in cooperation, instead of competition, there are no limits to what we can create.

What do you think?

Pete  http://diaryofamystic.com

We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience. - Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

Change the world for the better with POTS! (Philosophy On T-Shirts)

(See our powerful, issues-oriented political t-shirts and yard signs. People need to see what they're voting for.)

For more of the same

There are four main groups of berries : red currants , persimmon , concord grapes , red gooseberries

So now presenting the four main berries that live in kttberriesland

Lynnberry (red currant)

Pinberry (red gooseberry)

Yiingberry (concord grape)

Yongberry (persimmon)

Four presidents sticking it to the man.
Stealing from the people once again.
 
A cool wind blows across the mountains of Utah
and brings the footballer to the land of surf and sun.
 
An "junkie" prophet on a spiritual quest,
looking for the ultimate rush.
 
Two alphas and one omega,
a love triangle as turbulent as the waves.
 
White lies, burning deserts, and black waters
Culminating in red splatters and a free fall.

-DJ Nezz

Life is well I don't know what to say. I live in a reality world filled with conflicts.

Is education important ? Is money important ? Is happiness important ? Is having fun important ? Is travelling important ? Is living my dream important ? Is health important ? Is life important ? Is friend important ?

One thing I know family is important. Even boy/girl friend is not as important. I hate people complaining about their family counting the weaknesses even if it's just small thing. I hate listening comments about how xxx doesn't like the family to meet up with them how they dread going back home prefer to stay at friend's house. All those idiots. You have a family and you just ditch it aside. People beg to have a complete family. Scared of guys because they don't want to follow their parents footsteps. And these people just never learn to appreciate. My parents didn't give me enough pocketmoney. My family is so poor. @$)(%&*@ can you just shut up? Grow up people. You have your family what else you want ? What's so great about money. Yes money can get you far. BUT why so stingy with it wanting more and more. Otherwise, you have it and you are just so stingy to spend it accusing people you spend your money on as shark loans.

............................................................................................................................................................................

On the brighter side, talk about my housemate birthday party. It's the most crappish birthday party ever. Full of drama. And again we failed to make surprise. OK, 50% failed. But still consider failed. We begged the wardens to allow us to celebrate at a small street and he commanded us to celebrate beside the recycle bin. Then *drama* it rained. T.T So, we rushed to the small street risk getting scold. Then again, *drama* I turned and to my horror my roommate was with my housemate(the birthday girl) there standing at the other end of the small street. We look at each other(you know the kind of look you give when you broke something your parents forbidden you to touch) We stare at each other and I hide the cake(a big cake) behind me like how you hide the small stuff you broke. *smacks self* Utter shocked. I don't even know what to do. In my brain its just playing in my head yiyong saw me yiyong saw me with the cake.Shuck.What to do what to do. Then they walked away(later I found out from my roommate she was pretending very hard that she didn't saw that we were planning her birthday surprise) Thanks for continue pretending. It makes us feel not so useless. Haha.

Photos of the not surprising surprise party.

The big cakey

Surprise surprise. What's inside ?

The *ehem* Cave girl and guy

Cake no.2

Sorry yiyong. But this is too cute XD

Guess what's on her head ?

The SS group

Back in the apartment we got hyper and the birthday girl got ss start giving a thankyou speech. Haha. Then we tricked her to go into her room to make up. In the mean time. Sharlyne and I busy taking out the cake lighting the candle in the balcony. Then , blackout. *drama* Yiyong was so angry thinking why choose her birthday to blackout out of all days. And we gave her a surprise. Plan was to make her feel touch and cry. (mission failed) Then the acting and ss-ness continue until all of us went flat on bed except birthday girl alone hyper until 6am.  @.@ Now I know how panda the yiyong get her name :D

[vimeo]

So what's with the stupid question about paper and plastic you must be asking yourselves...that's very simple actually, the government finally proposed and voted(now ain't this a miracle?) a law that bans the usage of plastic bags thus replacing them with brown paper ones (the Greenpeace folks must be very proud and happy 'bout this :) ).

Now let's do a thinking exercise :D . Can you guess who's affected by this change, in good, in my opinion? Lemme give you hint:

      a.The business men;            b.The underpaid work force;           c. The junkies and hobos.

Although all will feel, more or less, a sudden price rise the most affected of this group will be for certain the junkies that will not have enough plastic bags for the "aurolac" (silver like synthetic dye mixed with water - used as an inhalant drug). So will this be some sort of a rehab for them or are they going to change thier methods and what impact will this have on their behavior?! :)

I had breakfast at Tiffany'scafe this morning.  It's a small cafe near where I live.  I try to eat there at least once a week because if I don't I'll skip breakfast.  So I'm sitting there and I order up my usual morning fare and drink down my giant coffee when all of a sudden it hits me that I hate coffee.  I know this sounds weird but I don't really like the taste of coffee much yet I drink it anyway, I suppose for the caffeine.  But this coffee tasted even worse than usual.  I mean I can go to Starbucks or something and have a cup of 10 dollar coffee and it'll taste OK, but this Breakfast at Tiffany's coffee was pretty bad.

So I asked the waitress if anyone complained about the coffee this morning.  She replied no, but there was a new person making it that morning.  I said, oh great, a new person.  That might explain why it tasted like used bath water mixed with one of those urinal cakes they put in men's rooms.  lol

So I asked for a fresh cup and sure enough it tasted just as bad.  But you know what?  I drank it anyway.  And as I was sucking it down I asked myself why I was drinking this swill.  The answer was for the caffeine.  Without it I would be asleep all day.  I'm a junkie, I really am.  I'm no better than the local crack heads that sleep on the streets at night.  OK maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, but you know what I mean.  I supposed too that I could just take a pill like one of the Yellow Vivarin things.  But that seems too easy.  I think if I took those pills I would take like 5 a day and my addiction would be worse.  The lousy taste of the coffee keeps me limited in my caffeine consumption, and that's probably a good thing. 

So are we a nation of junkies.  Are we all drug addicts addicted to caffeine.  Do we really need it to function, or are we just so hooked on it that we don't remember that we can function without it.  I don't know, your guess is probably as good as mine.  But it is something to think about as you're sucking down your morning cup of inspiration.

Caffeine is after all, a DRUG!!

Until next time

While thinking about you, making me go dream chasin' baby boo,

All i need is you.

Your skin as paper, my lips as pen,

And our oceans of bloody diamond's, inside my brain.

Cause we are two groove junkies,

That move, through this concrete jungle like monkeys.

Your my escape to Zion

Cause i'm feeling trapped, in this box of iron.

Disconnected from this reality, i rewind the movie of my life,

That i've produced in my mind, scared of the atrocities that i'm seeing,

Making me wanna go deaf and blind.

I've been slacking lately. Too many things too little time. 2 more months to my another wedding ceremonies. Haha.(inner joke) 3 more months to freedom. TEehehe.

Olympic is over. Buh. And I missed the opening and closing ceremony on tv. Bah. Sometimes its good to be in jungle and sometimes its not. Gonna practise speaking reading listening writing. I can do it. Yes. I can. :D

Going back again in a month time.Hahahaha. So happy. OK, no complaints and ranting. I am very satisfied with my life. Must compare with the extremely poor nations. YES, I'm living a good wealthy life. So no complaints.

Talking about poor nations it reminds me of Africa and when you talk about Africa you talk about endangered species. Support WWF. Not the nonsense wrestling thingy. It's World Wildlife Federation. And talk about this you talk about biodiversity. To prevent gene pool getting steeper causing less varieties then easier transmission of disease. So yeah. diverse the gene pool support interbreeding. Less chance of mutation. And you get better gene for the species. SEE, biodiversity is boring not boring.

Back in the day, when I was a teenager, spring of ‘88(?), before pissing off to Europe on my first legit skateboarding trip for H-Street, I was in a bit of a bind. I was dropping out of dorm life at UCSC and I had to leave my junk somewhere: A real piece of crap car and chest full of school papers and random items of garbage that teenage boys save for whatever reason. But being from a different state and without many Cali-connections, I had no real place to store said junk whilst I was off Euro-railing around the Continent. Luckily, at the final countdown, my good buddy Janitor Jake, still in Jr. High, without permission from his parents, offered to let me leave all my crap at his house. God bless the child that's got his own (parents with a large enough driveway to let me park an eyesore for months on end and a house with an extra closet able to store a bunch of useless detritus for what turned out to be what, 2 whole decades or something?!)
Which brings us to the present.
See, Jake just contacted me via email with a little mystery surprise: a super 8 film that I must have made almost a decade prior the two decades ago when I left all the shit at his house in the first place. I still don't know all the details, but somehow in that pile of trash sat collecting dust in his closet, Janitor Jake found a reel of Kodak (developed or undeveloped? not sure) with a movie on it that I shot when I was maybe, just barely, in double digits? Something I had never seen before. Something I can't even remember making. But low and behold, it's definitely me up on that celluloid (is super 8 celluloid?), sporting my yellow and red "Nowhere, Boredom" Sex Pistols' tour buses Tee-Shirt, but still rocking the bowl cut-which was definitely gone by the 80s, if memory serves. And there are more clues as to the approx. date, given the subject matter of the film. If I'm not mistaken, this was not long after Sid Vicious had died of an opiate overdose, which my newly self-anointed contingent of punk rockers and I had seen as a major betrayal of our newfound "year zero" ethos. Dying of a drug overdose was something hippies did, not punk rockers. We were too cool and clued in for that kind of hedonistic stupidity. Only morons like those of our bell-bottom wearing parents' generation would go out in such a mindless way. So when Sid died just like all the hippy rock star idiots before him, we were really angry and disillusioned. Hopelessly naïve, granted. But still undoubtedly on to something. In response, we must have made this film [click on the still frame above].
I really like how it suggests we were aware of the fact that mainstream media would so easily write you off if you succumbed to such nonsense.
Sadly though, it shows how little I've grown as a filmmaker over the years

p.s. good thing kurdt cobain didn't attend AS#1; just think, we could have been subject to an awful reunion tour by this point, had he kicked the habit and stuck around.

 Amir Sadollah having too much fun at Velocity Five.

These are some pictures next day from Operation Octagon at the GMU aquatic center.  Velocity Five was one of the sponsors for the sold out event.

Me and Amir chillin at Operation Octagon.

The WJFK Boys at Operation Octagon:  Chad Dukes, Rom the Card Counter (back row), Johnny "Cakes" Auville and son, me, Oscar Santana and Matt "Bat in the Morning" Goldstein.

Let's talk about my doggies today. What so special about the 2 doggies ? They are one black and one white GENERALLY. One male one female. And they are siblings.

I ♥ Jackie (the black dog) because it's mine. Nolah. Because it looks like a chick when its still a pup. Soooooooooo cute. Where to find a pup look like a chick besides my Jackie.

 Jessie(the female) is extremely noisy and spoilt. Just like my sis(because that's her dog)Haha.OKOK I'm exaggerating. It's the obese dog but is actually a monkey in disguise. See I told you its like my sis(her zodiac is also monkey). Wahaha. No wonder they say pets behave like their owner. Lol. Why its a monkey? Because it climbs over the fence all the time.Logically, how can a dog climb ?! Only Jessie the monkey dog does it. *shakes head* And and and it barks for nothing. Small small things also bark. Raining also bark, before sleeping also bark. Always always bark at the wrong time. Once my shoes were outside "sun-bathing", some idiotic fellas came and take my shoes away and what the 2 dogs did? SIT AND WATCH ! Is that what dogs are for? =.=

OKOK, some good side of them. They are cute like chicks. Hehe. (only when they were still puppies) Jackie is now a hunter dog. It hunts everything. From birds to rats to baby biawak. It attacks them by biting their neck. Spooky. But its so macho. So good doggy so loyal to the owner. It doesn't simply bark and NEVER scratch me.

So, let the pictures do the talking.

 Look at the camera..! =D
 

Winky: Pls don't bite me >.<
Jackie: U r too tiny.
 

"See my pink hairband(no, actually it's my collar)"
 

Lepak-ing in the corner.
 

@.@

It's too hot out there.

I'm jus too cute.

Look at me. I'm the king!

All in all, I'm proud to have the 2 doggies. They say the best match made is when one is noisy and the other is quiet. Like yin and yang. 2 extremes blend together and you get neutral. Oh, chemistry! Acid with alkali, you get salt and water that are NEUTRAL!

I'm outta my mind. Nah, I just love the doggies.