THIS IS OUR VANCOUVER:

Vancouver is a proud and beautiful city. We would NEVER defame our city like what the small group of rioters did last night. The hundreds of caring volunteers who came out this morning to clean up our city and the spirit on the streets was a testament to that.

• In the washroom
• At the gym
• Driving over one of the bridges that leads out of my city

I live in Vancouver and everyone knows we are long overdue for “The Big One” which is similar to the earthquake in Japan with a tsunami and all— and the scary thing is that there’s no way you can prepare for an earthquake that big. But whatever. If I was home, I’d grab my family, my dog, my hard drive, my Macbook and my Blackberry and head to Boyfriend’s who lives on a hill… and not be in Richmond which would sink if an earthquake of that magnitude happened here. He promised me to pick me up with their boat… and I hope he keeps that promise because my plan of tying a raft, upside down on my roof doesn’t seem to be happening.

Anyway, on a serious note, the earthquake and tsunami has been such a devastating but fascinating event. Despite the enormous loss of life, aren’t you just amazed by the Japanese? Their strict engineering codes, their calm and stoic personalities amidst the devastation, how they can hold up a camera and record one of the most devastating event events of their lives without crying or screaming “omigod! omigod! omigoddd!!!” while the ocean is washing away everything they know and how there is no violence or looting except everyone helping one another, sharing food and not even turning on their heat because they country is short of power. The Japanese are truly amazing people and I know they will recover from this and only get stronger.

This is what could happen if you’re on your phone while driving.
Warning *graphic videos*

One more [extremely graphic] video of car hitting cyclist.

Especially the fact that BP will most likely get away with this. And the fact that we are driving ourself into this hole where all our social, economic and environmental problems will never be fixed.

via Caught in the Oil

We do not inherit the Earth from our Ancestors,
we borrow it from our Children.

I’m so proud to be Canadian. I’m so proud of Vancouver for hosting such a great Winter Olympic. We had our tumbles but it was the best two weeks of my life!! And I knew Vancouver could party but not like this… our downtown was flooded with people and packed every single day and night for the last 17 days. I don’t mean to brag, but the media has stated that the passion, pride and enthusiasm has never been like this in any past Olympics in any city. We threw a great party!

We won the most gold medals ever in a Winter Olympic and every single hockey game meant a crazy night of food, alcohol and good friends but the highlight was of course the GOLD MEDAL HOCKEY GAME with us against USA. Tickets were worth way more than even Super Bowl tickets, unfortunately, I wasn’t one of those lucky people who got to attend (even if I had tickets, I wouldn’t sell it for $100,000). Instead we lined up at 7-freaking-AM at Edgewater Casino (opened at 10) which was totally worth it because we had the best seats in the house, beer was only $3, got hammered by 12pm (good thing because they closed the downtown liquor stores at 2pm), saw Po (the red Teletubby) in a Canada jersey, got to see Canada beat USA in overtime (which made the game even better) and celebrated by jumping up and down, screaming, crying, singing and hugging everyone around us for an entire 45 minutes until we finally left the building and took it to the streets. I don’t think I’ve touched so many strangers in my life and even got some topless dude’s chest smacked in my face. Yuck. My boyfriend high-fived so many people so I was scared he’d get some hand-STD and almost broke my horn driving home. I would die to relive that moment again!

Canadians, gracious about absolutely everything except hockey, when they become just like Americans.

[source]

Right after Crosby scored the winning goal.
Sorry for horrible camera… couldn’t stop moving!.

Vancouver literally erupts when we won gold (at about 1:19). Video was taken from across the river from downtown.

Sorry USA, you guys played a GREAT game but hockey is OUR game. That American guy was seriously soooo sad after the game and I felt kinda bad… but not really. Hyukhyuk.

I’ve also never ate and drank so much nor spent so much money on food and drinks during the last two weeks. I can’t wait to get back into the grind though… well maybe just not drink that much but will continue eating that much.

I’m so sad that it’s over. AND YES IT WAS SO WORTH MY TAX MONEY.

And just for the record, it’s not BOOOOOOOO… it’s LUUUUUUUUUU! We’re cheering for our Canada/Canucks goalie!

Now it’s back to boring, uneventful, un-Olympic life. Sigh. Well, the Paralympics are coming up… I wonder how the atmosphere will be like in Vancouver?

“Sidney Crosby: The only thing Canada can put in the net.”

Hyukhyukhyuk. I just had to publish that quote somewhere on the blog. We had an embarrassing lost to the USA but it was a GREAT GAME!! It wasn’t anyone’s fault that we lost except for Boyfriend’s because he left his jersey at my house (like how the Canucks got kicked out of the playoffs last year because my friend went to the washroom at a certain time).

It’s alright though… game’s still on. GO TEAM CANADA!!

We use to walk by stores that sold apparel with our the Canadian maple leaf on it and we thought it was lame to wear any “Canadian” gear. Now with the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver, I’ve never been so proud to be Canadian! I honestly didn’t care nor felt any excitement for the Olympics until the morning of the opening ceremony on Friday and now I’m beaming with Canadian pride. It`s amazing how your perspective can totally change in one day.

My favorite quote so far is by Walter Gretzky when he said his parents were European commoners and back then, they would’ve never been able to participate in an Olympic torch relay. But here in America, everyone can because we are all equal.

Like Becca said, our opening ceremony cannot compete with Beijing because we don’t have over a billion people to tax nor do we have such a rich and awesome history like China’s to brag about but I think we did a good job [displaying Canada's culture and history] …except for the girl who butchered our national anthem. Anyway, I doubt anyone could beat Beijing (they rocked it!) unless the Olympics were held in North Korea where Kim Jong Il would imprison his people if they don’t give a spectacular performance.

It’s true, we live in the best country in the world and the most livable city in the world. Sure, we have a retarded prime minister and an extremely expensive real estate market but at least we don’t live in a place where there are constant terrorist threats and a smoggy skyline. We are surrounded by clean air, beautiful nature and lots of opportunities.

I think the Olympics is what every city needs. Beijing made me proud to be Chinese and Vancouver made me proud to be Canadian.

Mom, Sis — We are Humans Too

First, I would like to thank everyone who reads this post, because I could learn much from your comments.

I had a grandmother, a father and a mother who dedicated their entire lives swearing loyalty to Kim Jong-Il and Korea Labor Party. I have no memory of ever sitting on my father’s lap, because he would go to work at 6 in the morning and come back at midnight. He wanted to receive an Effort Hero merit for his hard work.

But instead, all he received was invectives, because our ancestors come from South Korea. They said why would a family of shit dogs would receive any award. We could do nothing in our country because of our ancestor, whom we have never met, was from South Korea. Finally, when the crisis [TK Note: the famine in early 1990s] came, our family moved to the mountains to find a way to survive.

I was third of six brothers and sisters. I grew up learning songs like this: “Honk-honk, my little brother drives a “Victory” brand car. I asked him where he was going. He said he was going to give rice to the poor South Korean brothers.” I still vividly hear my teacher teaching that there are many beggar children in South Korea with a can on their waist, who gets beaten to death by well-off people while scrounging and begging for food. I also learned that Korea was a slave to another country and cannot even breathe without permission. That it was a land of idiots without pride, mooching off America like a dog.

We had this great life because the Great General Father protected us with the pride and greatness of Korea. We swore our lives for the Dear Leader, who twice a year gave us a whole kilo of candies and cookies that South Korean children could not have.

But we had to walk 6 kilometers of mountain road to get to school. We had to give up school because our legs, fueled only by boiled wild vegetables, would shake and give out. It was especially difficult for my older sister and I, who had no shoes except a piece of plastic wrapping our feet.

When we were living in the city, my grandmother and mother were trying to turn the last one kilogram of rice into rice cake so that they could sell it. They would have used the profit to buy rice and have porridge. But the police took the whole thing away, saying that we are selling rice that was the grace given from the General. We could not even sell things because we were warned that merchants would be considered a criminal who accepts the filth of capitalism.

So we thought we would survive in the mountain by farming. We cut the trees, tilled the land and pulled the weed, with a hope that we can eat in autumn. Then a National Security Bureau adviser said they would take all the harvest, saying the South Korean dog’s family just had to act like a landowner. My indignant grandmother yelled, “Go split it with the wild hogs.” The remaining potatoes were hashed out by wild hogs, and the remaining corns were ruined from bears, squirrels and birds. Our blood and sweat disappeared with the wind. In the winter, we would face near death from starvation while eating boiled pea pods and crushed corn cobs. We would roast and devour a rat that was caught in a trap.

Although my father was a loyal member of the Korea Labor Party, he left for China to buy food because he could not bear to see the mass deaths of his mother, wife and six children. But on his way back with a bag of rice, he was caught by the NSB, and died from beating and starvation in prison.

My mother was pregnant with her youngest child. She tried to abort the baby because of the hardship, but the doctor wanted 20 kilograms of beans. She had to have the child because there was no way to get those beans. She gave birth after only eight months of pregnancy after having been frightened by the news of my father’s death.

She gave birth in a log cabin without any lights. There was no one to help giving birth other than my grandmother, who was 76, and myself, who was 10. I could never forget what my grandmother said when she was cutting the umbilical cord with scissors that were used to cut cloth. She told me, shivering with fear, that mother would die if I don’t hold on tight to the umbilical cord. I held the slippery baby on one hand and the umbilical cord on the other, screaming “mom please wake up”. Hiding tears, my grandmother put my small brother face down on the ground for him to die. My mother begged my grandmother to let him live. I could only cry out of fear, holding my two younger siblings who were 5 and 6 years old.

My grandmother returned my brother to my mother, but he could only cry for milk that was not coming from my mother. My older sister went to sell the clothes from home to buy some rice, but she was robbed on the way home, barely coming home alive.

Eating only boiled water, we thought we could only die. But a lady from the People’s Bureau in charge of monitoring the villagers told us that she would give us 5 kilos of rice if we would take the 20 kilos of beans to sell at the city 50 kilometers away, buy wallpaper with the money and bring it back.

My older sister left, telling me that she would return no matter how late the next day would be, and that I should protect my mother, grandmother and my younger siblings. But seven days later, she would not return. My mother, seven days after giving birth, went on the 50 kilometer journey to find her. She gave my brother to me, telling me to hang on until she came back.

To keep my brother alive, I begged at the houses of the NSB leaders for 500 grams of rice. All I got was a spit in the face and a beating with a broomstick. They told me why the seeds of South Korean dogs would bother trying to live, and that my father was a traitor to the country. Finally, my brother would not take drinking boiled grass water any longer; he starved to death after clawing at my breasts.

My mother heard that my sister was sold away to China. She went to China to search for her, but could not. She came back with two small bags of powdered milk and a bag of rice, and cried when she heard my brother had died. She was taken away when the NSB agents found out that she went to China. Everything she brought back was taken away. My grandmother starved to death, while longing for the illusion of a boiled potato that she saw next to me.

My mother returned after escaping from the prison. There was no part of her body that was fine, after the beatings and tortures. She laid down for two months while wringing towels soaked with blood leaking out of her head. Then she saw us, nearly dying, and summoned the superhuman strength to take the three of us to China, resolving that she could not possibly kill the remaining children.

I carried the five year old brother on my back and held the hand of the six year old sister, and let my barely moving mother lean against me. We could not walk more than 4 kilometers. My shoeless feet were bleeding. I went to this one house and begged that they take care of my brother for just five days, and promised my brother that we will come back if he sleeps for just five nights.

I can still hear my brother. “Nuna, why do you take the other nuna and not me?” I told him, “Guk-Cheol, mother and I have to carry the rice and your nuna has to carry the candies and cookies, so we will hurry back. Ok?”

After one month, we were trying to return from China but we could not because the Tumen river has flooded. But even more than that, they said there was an order from Kim Jong-Il that anyone who did not participate in the election was to be executed. So we gave someone else money and asked him to bring back my brother, but he only returned with this news: the family that was taking care of my brother had fallen on hard times also, and kicked my brother out. My brother starved to death in a windy reed field, looking for his sister.

This was the end of the destiny for our six brothers and sisters. This is how my family was shattered. I want to ask whose fault was our tragedy.

In China, we had to hide from the police in a dirt hole at night, getting bitten by ants and mosquitoes. During the day, we would help tilling someone’s land. The landowner would say he would give the money tomorrow, but one bowl of rice was all we got. If we went to him for money, he would call the police. We were sent back to North Korea four times, but we survived by swallowing money wrapped in plastic. We would bribe the guards with that money after we excreted it.

Eighty percent of the prisoners in the prison I was sent to were caught while trying to go to Korea. Those who endure the beating while telling a story that they were only trying to work in China are sent to a prison called Training Center for six months to a year. If they do not die from disease or starvation, they come out alive and defect from North Korea once again. Those who cannot stand the pain and tell the truth are sent to the prison for political criminals and die there.

North Korean defectors can only die, only in different ways. If they stay in their homeland and survive by selling things, everything is taken away under the pretext that they are imitating capitalism. They finally die in prison after living in poverty and becoming economic criminal, thieves, or political prisoners for lamenting their country. They might want to die after at least having a bowl of rice and drown while trying to cross the Tumen River. The women are sold this way and that, dying from disease or beating after trying to run away. The truly lucky ones, like me, receive help from the Korean brothers, gain liberty and live as well as I do.

Please, everyone — what are we supposed to do? Please tell me if you have any wise ideas.

I think the North Korean themselves are the only answer. They must somehow revolt, eliminate Kim Jong-Il and the parasites that suck on the blood of the people, and gain liberty. I believe that is the only way to resolve their misery and tribulations. It is not as if Koreans, busy with getting rich, will rescue them by killing Kim Jong-Il with their tanks.

The people of North Korea are taught like this: “Today, again, General went out for supervision without even eating, for the welfare of his people. He cannot sleep, refusing corn and rice, saying how could I have rice when my people are eating porridge because of the puppet South Koreans? Why is Korea trying to kill the people of North Korea? Why is it trying to start a war over and over? Why does it continue to send spies to put glass shards in the food that our poor people eat?”

Koreans, are you really like so? The Koreans I know are kind and love their people. Many times I thought North Korean people and military would learn the truth and endeavor toward life and liberty. That Kim Jong-Il is a true villain, who suffers from diabetes and clogged arteries because of eating so well. That while he condemns those who watch Korean movies as traitors but he still watches those movies and follows Korea’s famous actors and actresses. That while he punishes those who divorce and bury them society while having a harem of women.

While I was in prison, I wished that I could put a picture of Kim Jong-Il’s wives and the shark’s fin banquet that he eats, along with 100 Chinese yuan, in front of every single house in North Korea. But those in Korea went further, and began sending flyers in balloons. This made me so happy. How else could we save the dying people?

JSH Note: This is a post in support of flyering from a defector, ID “Thank You”, when there was a debate over the balloon flyering in North Korea last winter. I read this three times, and each time I cried. This post gives me strength, as it makes me reflect how and for what I should live.

[Via Ask A Korean]

AHAHAHAHAHA. I

For example:

“Those white people don’t know what yeet hay means.”

I never hear Asians being referred to as the “yellow people” though. In fact, all Asian ethnicities are sometimes referred to as “orientals” or just plain old “Chinese.” I don’t get offended because I am oriental and I am Chinese but I’d be annoyed if I was Korean and someone just called me Chinese. It’d be like me calling all “white” people Scottish.

What about South-Asian Indians who are referred to as “brown people?” Aren’t they Asian as well? I rarely hear them being referred to as “Asian” especially living and being around so many East-Asians. Why do we call ourselves Asians but not them?

Just so I don’t leave the “red people” out; growing up in Saskatchewan, I’ve been taught since Kindergarten to call them “First Nations” instead of Natives or Indians as a sign of respect because one of my best friends back then was one. She didn’t have red skin though. First Nations history use to fascinate me and I remember wanting to be one because I thought that living in a tipi, hunting buffalo and eating pemmican would be so awesome despite the fact that none of those things really happen anymore.

I’m guilty of sometimes calling “white” and “black” people based on their skin color if I was referring to the entire race. I wouldn’t be offended (even if you call me a YELLOW) but since race is such a touchy subject, I’ve been trying to stop the habit. Even when I blog, I try to say African-Americans when referring to “black people” … but that sounds awkward because not all Africans are Americans and vice versa. But would I be offending them if I just say black people? Should I just say Africans? Or people from Africa?

Edit – here’s another thought since there’s been so much discussion about the “black” issue. I believe in evolution and that we all originated from Africa (or the land that was…) so that means we’re all Africans. Just a funny thought. Kidding. But anyway, I wish race wasn’t such a controversial subject because we all originated from the same place whether you believe in evolution or creation and we live on the same planet anyway.

Last week, my girlfriends and I were out enjoying a sushi dinner and amongst our random conversation topics, the 2012 prophecy came up. I don’t believe in that stuff but if the world were to end in 2012, what would you do with your the remaining years?

Me? I’d totally pig out on the yummiest and fatty foods for the next couple years (and then only to go, FUCK, when the world doesn’t end).

Lesson for everybody:
DON’T LET KIDS JAM COINS AND MULTIPLE DISCS INTO VIDEOGAME CONSOLES!! :@

This was today when we set the world record for “Largest simultaneous video game exercise routine.” No, I didn’t participate (obviously if I was up there taking the picture) because I left my runners and sweats at home… not on purpose, I swear!! I know there are people on the field in jeans but I’m too high maintenance and can’t do shit in heels. *hangs head in shame*

AND not only did I not participate… I even ate a poutine for lunch.

Baby-faced boy Alfie Patten is father at 13 – That little boy is too cute to be a father… or have sex at 12.

Speaking about TLC’s reality shows, what are your thoughts on the way Kate behaves on Jon & Kate Plus 8? Anal people don’t like her because she’s mean, sarcastic, naggy, pessimistic, loves to make fun of Jon, etc. but I LOVE IT!! That’s one of the reasons why I love that show so much— it’s real and they don’t try to hide their true personalities. The mother in 17 Kids and Counting is SO FREAKING BORING and annoyingly sweet. I’ve only watched that show once and fell asleep.

You’ve probably heard of her before but l always discover things like this at least a year too late. I’ve only written about music twice in this blog and so she HAS to be good if I’m writing about music again (not that I have anything against music but it’s usually nothing interesting to blog about). Read on…

She’s Filipino, she’s only 16 yet her voice is freaking powerful and amazing… where the hell does it come from?! She’s so tiny! Amazing. She was discovered on Youtube and introduced to America by Ellen, she’s been praised by Oprah, she’s being produced by David Foster and she performed at Obama’s Pre-Inauguration Concert; I swear this girl is going to be the WhitneyMariahCelineHoustonCareyDion of this generation. I was reading comments on an article and someone wrote, “If she was a drug, I would be in rehab for the rest of my life.” WELL, SAME HERE.

You know how every up-and-coming singer performs “I Will Survive” on every talent show? Well this is probably the BEST version I’ve ever heard.

Sigh. I. Am. So. Amazed.

I seriously wish the best for this girl and I can’t wait to see where her voice will take her!

I was just going through some of my old bookmarks right now and stumbled onto a bunch of blogs that I use to follow but have seem to forgotten lately.

One of them is baghdadgirl aka Raghda. I use to follow her blog religiously but stopped when I started getting busy (along with the rest of the blogs in my bookmarks). The only blogs I’ve kept up with in the last couple years are ones I connected to 24c.

Anyway back to baghdadgirl, she hasn’t written in a year now and I wonder what has happened to her? In an entry in June 2006 Raghda said, “I promise that I’ll never stop blogging no matter where I am.” I don’t even have words to express about what she must be going through in her war torn country, but I hope she’s okay and just took a long hiatus from blogging. When I read back on her entries, I feel ashamed of myself and the contents of my blog.

Living in war is the hardest thing in the world because you’ll see the place you have lived in for your whole life is being destroyed completely and all the people you love are getting hurt, growing up in war is very hard, all the things you used to do is impossible to do now including going out that’s because it is very dangerous to go any where so you have to stay home all the time and even home isn’t safe… when the situation become really bad like it it is now in Iraq, you do the only thing you can do to get your life back which is leaving the country, and that’s what I done, I still and will all ways feel like there is some thing missing in me, and that’s my friends is growing up in war. - excerpt from baghdadgirl

Why are we writing about our latest shopping hauls, reviewing make up and how we got the latest iPhone, etc.?! It makes me sad that we don’t have any idea of what they are going through over there while their country and lifestyles are being destroyed in a failed invasion by Americans (on both sides). They’re all normal bloggers like us except their rants are a lot different than ours; they struggle to lead a normal life yet it’s clouded in fear because they don’t know what will happen to them and their country, car bombs explode outside near their homes, they have to pass countless checkpoints just to get to school and the list of terrifying ordeals go on.

…the American government and president Bush talk about their big achievements in my country, where we find nothing but fear ,losses, pain, and threats. no safety , no electricity, no tap water in most of the cities , lack in all kind of services even health services , nothing but the worst schools and education , no jobs, no human rights. - excerpt from youngmammy.blogspot.com

It makes me sad that I’m going to continue blogging about what I usually blog about and continue my life as it is. It makes me sad that everyone I know will do the same. It makes me sad that I can’t do much about this. It makes me sad that we can’t help them as much as we want to. It makes me sad that there is no good way to end this war.

Are these the signs for the end of time, of the dooms day? That the world has lost its mind, its ethics, its mercy, justice, and all its beautiful features? I, personally, am tired, but I didn’t lose hope that some people still exist in this world who form a beautiful face to it… They are a minority, no doubt, but they still exist……… perhaps one in every thousand…. - excerpt from afamilyinbaghdad.blogspot.com

One thing we CAN do is spread the word and share their grief, joy and hope. Here are some blogs you can check out (many more if you look through their blog roll). Read their archives. Get to know them. I know I will. They’re all added to my RSS feed so I won’t ever forget about them again.

• baghdadgirl.blogspot.com
• afamilyinbaghdad.blogspot.com
• astarfrommosul.blogspot.com
• youngmammy.blogspot.com
• dbubble.blogspot.com
• livesstrong.blogspot.com
• aviraqi.blogspot.com
• whowasthere.blogspot.com

I want to be able to walk freely in the streets without being afraid of terrorists, many times I wonder, god created us all equally, and gave us mind to think , and feelings to sense, everyone like children because they are so innocents, why some of those children grew up and became evils ? why people fight each other ? I can’t understand that, why someone wake up in the morning and his attention is to kill ? I can’t understand the reason that motivate people to kill, sometimes they kill because of nationality!, religion!, race, some times I wish everyone can remain a child to keep the innocence! - excerpt from livesstrong.blogspot.com

And just one more:

Peace is an amazing feeling we went through ,my kids were walking ,playing and running away from us with out scare .they saw people dancing in the bus ,casino, street and enjoyed the sound of music and beautiful Iraqi songs instead of shootings and explosions’ sounds.they saw how Iraqis are alike and are harmonious unlike what the media reveal that Iraqis are fighting each other. - excerpt from youngmammy.blogspot.com

If you have a medical condition (eg. albinism) then you may have an excuse to get this done, but for those who will do this for looks… no offense but are you crazy?! I won’t judge anyone for getting breast implants or a nose job, but messing around with your vision for aesthetics is another thing. If anyone I know does it, I’ll talk shit about them until they go blind just for being an idiot. Besides, it doesn’t even look natural.

[Picture Source: www.newcoloriris.com]

But on the other hand, this company supports prevention of blindness and gives an advantage to those suffering from various diseases/problems which I support 100%. Check out their FAQ for more info.

Isolated tribe spotted in Brazil.

It’s funny because they seem to be shooting arrows at the plane. Click for more pics!

Also, kinda late but:
Copyright deal could toughen rules governing info on iPods, computers.

Speaking about news, one of my clients, NewspaperDirect, gave me a free unlimited one-year subscription to their Press Display website (which is an online newspaper kiosk with 600+ newspapers and magazines)!! She told me it was worth over $300 which totally rocks my socks because I’m a HUGE news fanatic and browse news sites everyday. Of course, you can check out the Press Display homepage for free though (you just need a subscription to see the rest of the pages and the archives).

B.C. gov’t issues $100 cheques to residents next month.
Climate action dividend: Get your cash before new carbon tax kicks in

Every B.C. adult and child, an estimated 4.4 million of us, will get the one-time-only $100 cheque, which is tax-free.

[Click here to read article]

If you haven’t filed an income tax or have kids, you’ll have to fill out this form to apply for it.

I, for one, am going to spend it on KFC and zucchini sticks.

First off, I’d like to say that I HATE YOU DONALD TRUMP!! I enter my email on his website to download this PDF to make me a rich, and the next thing you know? I GET SPAMMED WITH VIAGRA (and other shit) EMAILS!! Is that the price you pay for trying to be rich and retiring at 21? I’ve spent the last 2 years taking very very careful of that one email account from spam and a billionaire finally ruins it for me. Can we say, UGH? I guess it’s kind of my fault for not using the account I started just for things like this. Sigh.

Speaking about spam, here are my top 3 tips to prevent you from being spammed (assuming that you haven’t been already):

• Start a new email account to sign up for things on the internet and especially when signing blogs. Ironically, I’ve NEVER been spammed at this address before so I can’t guarantee that it works. But I think they just haven’t gotten to me yet because this one is quite new. Muhehehe.
• NEVER put your email address on your website in plain text. If you need to, use this code (change the bolded text):
  

  <script language=”JavaScript” type=”text/javascript”>
  <!–
  var string1 = “trump“;
  var string2 = “@”;
  var string3 = “likestospam.com“;
  var string4 = string1 + string2 + string3;
  document.write(“<a href=” + “mail” + “to:” + string1 +
  string2 + string3 + “>” + string4 + “</a>”);
  //–>
  </script>

  …which will be displayed as: trump@likestospam.com

• And last but not least, don’t look at porn or sign up for anything related.

Anyway here are some click-worthy links:

www.worldometers.info; ever wonder how many hours people diet in the U.S. this year or how many books are published? Well now you get to know all this useless but uber cool statistics!

www.blackle.com; been wanting to post this for a while now (been sitting in my drafts for 6 months now) but here you go… introducing the earth-friendly version of Google.

www.blublu.org; awesomely freakish video made by Blu (and the rest of his art work).

And one more shameless plug for Tiff because she made me fall off the couch laughing my arse off: Extreme Makeunder.

But anyway, just kidding, I don’t hate Donald Trump… I just really envy and admire him.