<?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-36829962</id><updated>2011-09-05T12:03:16.092+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Asrar El Banat</title><subtitle type='html'>Welcome To OUR Life</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>82</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-1160926751430330517</id><published>2007-02-27T14:03:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-02-27T14:06:15.444+02:00</updated><title type='text'>WE HAVE MOVED!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_h7mdQm4KHx8/ReQebIwNo9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/_pYwEFBQaK8/s1600-h/image001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5036183734862062546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_h7mdQm4KHx8/ReQebIwNo9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/_pYwEFBQaK8/s320/image001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Friends!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;How about giving our lovely AeB a make over?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;In Content?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;no ..no ..no..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;we are still who we are! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;A handful of Egyptian girls who want their voices to be heard!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;so what's the make over is all about?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;We have moved to a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://asraralbanat.wordpress.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;new neighborhood..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;with a new look!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;with more energy..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;and more creative ideas to follow!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So please from now on..if you want to drop by jsut go to our new address!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://asraralbanat.wordpress.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;http://asraralbanat.wordpress.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You will find us there!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;waiting on the doorstep..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;talking..laughing..complaining..critisizing..as always!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;See you there! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;and tell us what you think!&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/36829962-1160926751430330517?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/1160926751430330517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=1160926751430330517&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/1160926751430330517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/1160926751430330517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2007/02/we-have-moved.html' title='WE HAVE MOVED!!!!'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_h7mdQm4KHx8/ReQebIwNo9I/AAAAAAAAAAM/_pYwEFBQaK8/s72-c/image001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-117240929977566740</id><published>2007-02-25T14:53:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-02-25T15:14:59.803+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Early Pregnancy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/549479/pregnantwoman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/320/413124/pregnantwoman.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;I've noticed a new trend among many of my friends and aquaintences. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Young couples are getting married and they are getting pregnant RIGHT AWAY! Now since this has happened in over 5 cases recently ,I'm guessing it's no coincidence! I'm guessing this was intentional. Ofcourse they are entitled but I'm just trying to know why.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Personally, while in my college years , when the topic would be opened, my friends &amp; I would talk about how we'd like to delay pregnancy for a couple of years after marriage. This is not in any way being ungrateful to a blessing such as children. In fact, it is quite the opposite. Children are such a precious gift that it deserves being prepared for. Be it financially, and/or psychologicaly, these few years are bound to give a young couple a chance to gain experience , responsibility &amp;amp; share time together. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Many of those same friends of mine changed their views &amp;amp; are now pregnant or trying to be..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Makes you wonder..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;And also makes you wish them all the luck :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-117240929977566740?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/117240929977566740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=117240929977566740&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/117240929977566740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/117240929977566740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2007/02/early-pregnancy.html' title='Early Pregnancy'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-117119350925323218</id><published>2007-02-11T13:25:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-02-11T13:33:21.853+02:00</updated><title type='text'>On Valentines</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;Valentine Day. A day to celebrate love. A day intitated by the death of a saint and hence in his honour each year lovers reaffirm their love for each other through going out to exclusive dinners/concerts, exchanging expensive gifts and spending fortunes on wrapping/flowers and all that which is red.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Capitalists have found this to be quite the lucrative endeavour and have in their turn played a part in the propogation of this "day of love" and marketing their products at the expense of the love sick or the show-offs till Cairo has become a truely red city by the 14th of February.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet again should love be limited to that one day a year. Do we really need a single day to celebrate love. For what is love? Feelings? Emotions? Expectations? Compromises? Heartache and perhaps even heartbreak? For the sake of the argument, let's claim love is good and desirable, do we want to limit the celebration of such a divine sentiment to a single day a year and go on being our bitter agressive selfish selves all year long. Or is it better to spread the love all year round and elimenate this man-made celebration of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what would be really practical? A day of forgiveness and forgetness. Now that is an emotion we don't have enough of. A sentiment that is highly needed yet an option that is seldom practiced. I call upon you all to set a date. It doesn't require the death of a saint, but the collective heart breaks and aches of all mankind. Let us please have a Letting go day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-117119350925323218?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/117119350925323218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=117119350925323218&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/117119350925323218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/117119350925323218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2007/02/on-valentines.html' title='On Valentines'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-117094104911013824</id><published>2007-02-08T14:08:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T15:24:09.183+02:00</updated><title type='text'>ShiSha</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/78151/shisha.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 123px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 174px" height="212" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/320/470085/shisha.jpg" width="145" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;What do you think of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shisha"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Shisha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;(waterpipe)??&lt;br /&gt;Apart from it being unhealthy.. &amp;amp; not that chic...&lt;br /&gt;If you shisha..then you'd have reasons for shisha-ing...&lt;br /&gt;Is it the shisha itself that's enjoyable.. or the atmosphere it brings.. or is it fashionable only ????? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-117094104911013824?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/117094104911013824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=117094104911013824&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/117094104911013824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/117094104911013824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2007/02/shisha.html' title='ShiSha'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-117068466335394896</id><published>2007-02-05T15:18:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-02-05T16:11:03.446+02:00</updated><title type='text'>My man.. The Thinker</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/925452/untitled.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 159px" height="193" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/320/197739/untitled.jpg" width="250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;We were not alone,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;But we seldom are.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;At least we were together,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;At least he wasn't far.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;He had this dreamy look;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Lost in thoughts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;He was staring into space,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;So his hand I sought.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;I knew he'll tell me something sweet;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Something romantic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;I couldn't wait to find out,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;I was getting frantic!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Am I exaggerating?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Maybe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;But if you only knew,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;The effect his words have on me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;He looked me in the eye,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;I stopped breathing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;He was going to say something..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;I was beaming!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;"Oh honey, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;I'm so tired."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;So that's it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Silly me. Shouldn't have gotten so wired.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000000;"&gt;PS: This is to demonstrate yet again that women read &lt;strong&gt;TOO&lt;/strong&gt; much into men.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-117068466335394896?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/117068466335394896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=117068466335394896&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/117068466335394896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/117068466335394896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2007/02/my-man-thinker.html' title='My man.. The Thinker'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-117025366372164328</id><published>2007-01-31T16:24:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-01-31T16:27:43.753+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Message to a "stranger"</title><content type='html'>I thought I saw a man brought to life&lt;br /&gt;He was warm, he came around like he was dignified&lt;br /&gt;He showed me what it was to cry&lt;br /&gt;Well you couldnt be that man I adored&lt;br /&gt;You dont seem to know, dont seem to care what your heart is for&lt;br /&gt;But I dont know him anymore&lt;br /&gt;Theres nothing where he used to lie&lt;br /&gt;My conversation has run dry&lt;br /&gt;Thats whats going on,&lt;br /&gt;nothings fine Im torn&lt;br /&gt;Im all out of faith,&lt;br /&gt;this is how I feel&lt;br /&gt;Im cold and I am shamed lying naked on the floor&lt;br /&gt;Illusion never changed into something real&lt;br /&gt;Im wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn&lt;br /&gt;Youre a little late, Im already torn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess the fortune tellers right&lt;br /&gt;Should have seen just what was there and not some holy light&lt;br /&gt;To crawl beneath my veins and now I dont care, I have no luck, I dont miss it all that much&lt;br /&gt;Theres just so many things that I cant touch,&lt;br /&gt;Im tornIm all out of faith, this is how I feelIm cold and I am shamed lying naked on the floor&lt;br /&gt;Illusion never changed into something real&lt;br /&gt;Im wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn&lt;br /&gt;Youre a little late, Im already torn. torn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Theres nothing where he used to lie&lt;br /&gt;My inspiration has run dry&lt;br /&gt;Thats whats going on, nothings right, Im torn&lt;br /&gt;Im all out of faith, this is how I feel&lt;br /&gt;Im cold and I am shamed lying naked on the floor&lt;br /&gt;Illusion never changed into something real&lt;br /&gt;Im wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn&lt;br /&gt;Im all out of faith, this is how I feel&lt;br /&gt;Im cold and Im ashamed bound and broken on the floor&lt;br /&gt;Youre a little late, Im already torn&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-117025366372164328?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/117025366372164328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=117025366372164328&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/117025366372164328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/117025366372164328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2007/01/message-to-stranger.html' title='Message to a &quot;stranger&quot;'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-117007339716727955</id><published>2007-01-29T14:19:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-01-29T14:23:17.180+02:00</updated><title type='text'>How to be the Perfect Lover</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/5511/perfectlover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/400/634832/perfectlover.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-117007339716727955?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/117007339716727955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=117007339716727955&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/117007339716727955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/117007339716727955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2007/01/how-to-be-perfect-lover.html' title='How to be the Perfect Lover'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116964165576022049</id><published>2007-01-24T13:49:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-01-24T14:27:35.926+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Reality or Fairytale?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/37831/index_r2_c1.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/320/371982/index_r2_c1.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;Days ago I came across a real nice movie, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://alexandemmamovie.warnerbros.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;Alex &amp; Emma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;, on mbc4. A movie i have watched before, but only last time that it really rang a bell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In short, the movie is about a guy who was was in love with a super duper pretty girl..seductive...the hard to get and selfish kind....devious...the one who doesnt know how to wash her clothes i.e. useless except for taking care of her body and her personal needs! Needless to say, the girl dumped the sweet guy...our hero went on to meet by coincidence a girl who was supportive, funny, smart, direct, spontaneous, hard worker, cute...a real copy of most of the girls out there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The movie is about this kinda dilemma ..of whether u want to live in a fairytale ..get ur heart broken..follow ur impulsive vibes to chase the unapproachable ...or stick to your dear reality..get the love and support u deserve but you wont get racing heart beats everytime you see the face of ur lover..its a quiet type of love..its safe..it wont get your heart broken coz its already there for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It might not be what you thought will make you happy..but surely ..it will in the end..but it will be a Calm Happy ending..not a Heart Racing Happy ending ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;el bell that was ringing baah..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;why cant the safe normal option be jsut as attractive as the risky not feasible one..so i get the whole package..&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;a real fairytale :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116964165576022049?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116964165576022049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116964165576022049&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116964165576022049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116964165576022049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2007/01/reality-or-fairytale.html' title='Reality or Fairytale?'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116955901556334189</id><published>2007-01-23T15:04:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-01-23T15:32:55.823+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Part III: Encounters of the Street Kind</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/533598/0093-0604-0714-3810_TN.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/320/316105/0093-0604-0714-3810_TN.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/encounters-of-street-kind.html#links"&gt;Part I&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/part-ii-encounters-of-street-kind.html#links"&gt;Part II&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SpeciMEN #3: UniforMen&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;I was pondering whether to continue this series.. but "to be continued" has to be respected!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;My third specimen was chosen mainly because of an incident that I witnessed yesterday while driving in Wadi El Nil St. in Mohandseen, but that's not to say that there aren't many other incidents to be told about this type of men. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Fee oropa wal dowal al motakadema men in uniforms are percieved as extremely sexy and macho like..whether policemen/firemen/navy.. etc. In Egypt, they are far from that!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;(Exept for a veryy small percentage whom actually look fine, those are the "zobat" that bother to take showers &amp; wear very dark sunglasses &amp;amp; are the sons of nas wasla... They are the ones that sit on a chair on the side of some streets to shout at lower rank policemen!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;I will not generalize further, I'll tell you about the incident. I was driving past the infamous intersection of Wadi El Nil St. with Geziret El Arab St. where there are usually several 3asaker/traffic policemen "monitoring" the traffic (or are they making it worse?). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Anyway, I was waiting at the intersection for them to stop those passing from the perpendicular street so we can pass..&amp; I heard a traffic guy from behind me tell another next to me to stop that street so we can pass. The latter guy said with a huge grin "Mesh hawa2af la7ad ma teegy haga helwa." (translation: I wont stop the street until something pretty comes.) I didnt get it at first, until I saw him stop the street &amp;amp; let us pass only when a car came driven by a woman who appeared to have dyed blonde hair &amp; a fair complextion! As I passed, I saw him stand next to her &amp;amp; talk..I wonder what was said!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;So isn't this just dandy! Our traffic is organzied according to the wish of traffic men to see pretty women! Ahh heaven!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;(Gurrr)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May be continued...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116955901556334189?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116955901556334189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116955901556334189&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116955901556334189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116955901556334189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2007/01/part-iii-encounters-of-street-kind.html' title='Part III: Encounters of the Street Kind'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116955424537699593</id><published>2007-01-23T14:09:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-01-23T14:10:45.383+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Do you??</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/111032/MarriagesGoneBad.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/400/319477/MarriagesGoneBad.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116955424537699593?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116955424537699593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116955424537699593&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116955424537699593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116955424537699593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2007/01/do-you.html' title='Do you??'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116946382842742512</id><published>2007-01-22T12:57:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-01-22T13:03:48.436+02:00</updated><title type='text'>SEX ID</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/science/humanbody/sex/add_user.shtml"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/400/878711/banner.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/320/35696/faces.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116946382842742512?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116946382842742512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116946382842742512&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116946382842742512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116946382842742512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2007/01/sex-id.html' title='SEX ID'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116913187451576838</id><published>2007-01-18T16:49:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-01-18T16:51:14.523+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Golden globes and local drones</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000066;"&gt;I was watching the Golden Globe Awards on TV the other day and all I have to say is YUMMY. How come we don't have any of these hotties parading around in our streets? Me wants the whole cast of Grey's Anatomy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000066;"&gt;On a parallel topic, I'm sick and tired of guys at the office complaining about the looks of the girls at the office "mafeesh mozzaz" "ya 7assra 3alina" "anna shaghal ma3 shabasheb". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000066;"&gt;Not only is it extremely offensive to the ego; LOOK WHO'S TALKING!! As if you are a sight for sore eyes?!! Humph. Instead all we get are late 20 early 30 year olds with beer bellies, receeding hairlines and totally non-muscular physiques complaining about the women in the office! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000066;"&gt;*Eye roll* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116913187451576838?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116913187451576838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116913187451576838&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116913187451576838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116913187451576838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2007/01/golden-globes-and-local-drones.html' title='Golden globes and local drones'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116902145044134237</id><published>2007-01-17T10:07:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-01-17T10:10:50.450+02:00</updated><title type='text'>World's Shortest Fairytale</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="Worlds Shortest Fairytale"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl "Will you marry me?"&lt;br /&gt;The girl said, "NO!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;And the girl lived happily ever after and went shopping, dancing, drank martinis, always had a clean house, never had to cook, did whatever  she wanted, never argued, didn't get fat, travelled more, saved more money, and had all the hot water to herself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;She watched chick flicks, not football, had high self esteem, never cried or yelled, felt and looked fabulous in tracksuit pants, and burped, and farted all the time…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;The End&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Author: Lindsey, Melbourne, Australia&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116902145044134237?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116902145044134237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116902145044134237&amp;isPopup=true' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116902145044134237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116902145044134237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2007/01/worlds-shortest-fairytale.html' title='World&apos;s Shortest Fairytale'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116873014966009915</id><published>2007-01-14T01:08:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-01-14T01:17:05.260+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Female Instinct</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ever since life began on earth, females have been competing over practically everything. Throughout the ages women have had different back grounds, lived in different circumstances and led different lives. Only one thing is shared by females everywhere: the way they feel about each other. Hardly ever do you meet a woman who doesn't measure herself against other women at least once a day. A classic example of this is when a female walks into a room; all the other female eyes subtly look her over and make an immediate assessment of her clothes, hair, makeup, shoes and nail polish, after which they all start criticizing her. Of course, as soon as she comes near they all switch on bright smiles and pour out fake compliments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Situation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;A group of girls are at a party when a girl walks into the room. Sherry says "Ugh! Look at her hair. It looks like she put it through a blender." Perry replies with "And can you see those awful shoes?" and Kerry agrees while adding another comment about the girl's dress. As soon as the girl approaches, Sherry, Perry and Kerry immediately start complimenting her on how great she looks, with Sherry stressing on how much she loves the girl's new hair style.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do females behave this way? A woman could have a great personality, be a perfect member of the family, with an angelic nature…until she's faced with another woman. Suddenly she develops deep insecurities, a fierce competitiveness and the old female instinct kicks in. She starts to show great aptitude for harsh criticism and for discussing and putting down any other woman she feels is prettier/smarter/better dressed than she is. Even younger females do it. As soon as a girl is old enough to play with dolls, she begins to develop The Instinct. Girls have an amazing ability to put down other girls and the older they get the more they master this "talent". Some even raise it to an art form! The main reason behind this cutthroat bahaviour probably boils down to one possibility: &lt;strong&gt;men&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;The main goal in each woman's life is to snag a man. And although women differ in their desired criteria most want a man who is handsome, caring, romantic, stylish, ambitious, successful and as a bonus, rich. Now if the world was filled with handsome, romantic and rich men there wouldn't' have been a problem. Unfortunately, this kind of guy is practically an endangered species. So basically every woman in the world has perhaps a one percent chance of landing one of them. The result is that each woman sees other women as rivals for her potential husband, so she spends most of her life trying to get to him before they do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Situation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Sherry, Kerry and Perry work in a company. Harry, who bears a strong resemblance to Tom Cruise and drives a Lexus, works with them in the same company in a managerial position. Harry is unattached and therefore a target of almost every single female in the building. Sherry, Kerry and Perry all feud for his attention by every mean possible. Sherry started a rumour in the office that Kerry only takes a bath once a year, Kerry punctured the tires of Sherry and Perry's cars and Perry told Harry that Sherry is in fact married with six kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The strange thing is that even women who are friends compete with each other, although a little differently. In this case the rivalry isn't as obvious but just as strong. Females friends aren't always open with each other and in many cases say or do things to each other with completely different intentions that the ones they show. For example, a woman almost never tells her friend the complete truth. If a woman asks for a friend's opinion on a new dress, she'll almost always say that it's wonderful even if she actually thinks it looks awful. And nine times out of ten, she'll tell the rest of their group of friends her real opinion behind her back. Another example is when a woman gets a new job/engaged/married and tells her friends. They'll all immediately start congratulating her excitedly and pretend to be genuinely happy for her when in fact most of them are thinking enviously "Why couldn't it happen to me?" No woman is really happy for another woman when she gets something or succeeds except in one case: when she gets something better or is even more successful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Situation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Sherry meets a great guy and wants to introduce him to Perry and Kerry. She spends all week telling them about how great he is and all the time they pretend to be happy for her while secretly hoping she'll shut up about it. After they meet him they spend all of the next week complimenting her and praising him to the skies while they secretly make fun of his shoes and criticize her taste in men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Females are known for their talent to come up with ways to reach their targets. A woman who is competing with another woman will stop at nothing to beat her, especially when the competition is over a man. This case is even more noticeable when one of them already has him, as the other woman will feel that it's only a matter of time before he notices her charms and makes the right choice. In a female war, every weapon is legal. Weapons such as makeup, expensive clothes and charming conversation come out at the most convenient times; and most of the time they make a definite impact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Situation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Perry arranges a night out to introduce her new boyfriend to her friends Kerry and Sherry. Perry has been talking about him nonstop for weeks, how cute, how successful and how utterly wonderful he is, so Sherry and Kerry are really looking forward to meeting him. In fact, each one secretly feels that once he lays his eyes on her, he'll be so bowled over by her charm that he'll drop Perry right away and choose her instead. Sherry puts on her best dress and her most attractive jewelry, Kerry showers the guy with compliments and they both spend the whole night flirting with him. When Perry accuses them of trying to steal him away they both innocently declare that they were simply being nice to the guy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women have an extensive array of methods in dealing with each other in war and peace. Most women are excellent at using the verbal method. The main activity of any group of women is to gossip bout other women behind their backs. Another popular way of dealing with unwanted competition is to start rumours about the rival which have no trouble of spreading quickly because of the famous female trait of gossiping on the phone. Women rarely resort to violence but that is because they are able to cause more damage by simply opening their mouths.&lt;br /&gt;Females have always been and will always be trying to beat each other to the end of the beauty/marriage/success race, but their means and methods are always extremely different and diverse. One thing about women; they are willing to concoct any crazy scheme to get what they want, and they usually get it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Source: Mask-Off Magazine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N.B When I wrote the Male Instinct article guys accused me of being anti-men and when I wrote this, suddenly all these angry female readers started accusing me of being a self-hating woman. I just can't win!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The point is, both these articles are for &lt;strong&gt;fun,&lt;/strong&gt; so please, please don't be offended by this my fellow females:-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116873014966009915?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116873014966009915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116873014966009915&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116873014966009915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116873014966009915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2007/01/female-instinct.html' title='The Female Instinct'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116834558019380918</id><published>2007-01-09T14:24:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-01-09T14:26:20.206+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't look for perfection..strive to be it</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;A friend asked a gentleman how it is that he never married?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt; Replied the gentleman, "Well, I guess I just never met the right woman. I guess that I have been looking for the perfect girl."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;"Oh, come on now," said the friend, "Surely you have met at least one girl that you wanted to marry."&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, there was a girl, once. I guess she was the one perfect girl - the only perfect girl I really ever met. She was just the right everything. I really mean that she was the perfect girl for me." replied the gent.&lt;br /&gt;"Well, why didn't you marry her," asked his friend.&lt;br /&gt;The gent replied, "She was looking for the perfect man." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116834558019380918?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116834558019380918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116834558019380918&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116834558019380918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116834558019380918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2007/01/dont-look-for-perfectionstrive-to-be.html' title='Don&apos;t look for perfection..strive to be it'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116781580542557322</id><published>2007-01-03T11:15:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-01-03T11:16:45.433+02:00</updated><title type='text'>2007 Toast</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"For the men who are fortunate enough to have us the losers who lost us and the lucky bastards who will still meet us. CHEERS"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116781580542557322?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116781580542557322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116781580542557322&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116781580542557322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116781580542557322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2007/01/2007-toast.html' title='2007 Toast'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116729462886689173</id><published>2006-12-28T10:06:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-28T10:30:28.876+02:00</updated><title type='text'>El Eid Ganaaaaa</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/351552/eid-lamb06.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/320/190448/eid-lamb06.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/21519/eid.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/320/75240/eid.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Would like to send my deep wishes for a Eid full of joy for us all ...&amp;amp; an unpainful one for the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.taherart.com/file2.swf"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;sheep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;!&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/36829962-116729462886689173?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116729462886689173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116729462886689173&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116729462886689173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116729462886689173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/el-eid-ganaaaaa.html' title='El Eid Ganaaaaa'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116721400020310578</id><published>2006-12-27T10:53:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-27T12:10:23.583+02:00</updated><title type='text'>My New Year's Resolution</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Gurls Good morning,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Happy New Year...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Inspired by a Friend's "new yr's resolutions" ..I found myself opening a new word document...sharpened my "teeth"..oh! sorry..i mean my "nails"..ouh! again?..i mean my "brains" to come up with a "true" wish list ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;In a few moments..i found myself writing the below list [which I must admit is not so traditional :)] &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Feel free to come up with your own list..and be "creative"..we Kol Sana wentom Taybeen :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;May I keep my heart guarded against the "not-really-worth-it" guys!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;May all those who "took me for granted" ..taste a "bottle" of their own doing!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;May I have enough tolerance to "not hit-that-abnoxious- guy" who still wants to be "selective" when he is "yadoab" approaching 40!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;May I get enough "training" to master the "playing- games" expertise!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;May I get enough "Authority" to "kick Off" those "bunch of losers" standing day &amp;amp; nite (until dawn) infront of my place..smoking "akeed mesh bass cigarettes", laughing out "devlishly", and of course " gazing at me fel tall3ah wel nazzla"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;May I do a "complete-make-over" to those "&lt;em&gt;theoratically&lt;/em&gt;: male species" but fail to act as one! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;May I "loosen a wild beast" on the "so-called-men" who think that beating up their wives is an act of "masculinity"!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116721400020310578?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116721400020310578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116721400020310578&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116721400020310578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116721400020310578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/my-new-years-resolution.html' title='My New Year&apos;s Resolution'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116720745686265770</id><published>2006-12-27T10:10:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-27T10:17:36.870+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Joke of the day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/728731/sidebar_joke.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/320/736489/sidebar_joke.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"&gt;Maria ,a beautiful Latino, fell in love with Jose. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"&gt;She planned to marry very soon. She was so happy about her wedding plans, she decided to tell her papa. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"&gt;Papa told her, "Maria, you'll have to find another boyfriend.Your Mother does not know this, but Jose is your half-brother."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"&gt;So Maria forgot about her Jose, and soon planned to marry Ricardo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"&gt;But after telling papa again, he said, "Maria there's trouble still. You cannot marry Ricardo, my darling. Please don't tell your mother,but Ricardo is your half-brother too."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"&gt;Maria had no choice but to go to her mama. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"&gt;Mama already knew and said "My darling, do what makes you happy. Marry Ricardo or marry Jose, because you are not related to Papa."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;(Author of joke unknown.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116720745686265770?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116720745686265770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116720745686265770&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116720745686265770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116720745686265770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/joke-of-day.html' title='Joke of the day'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116713833674322491</id><published>2006-12-26T14:58:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-26T15:05:37.306+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Male Dictionary</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Every time I come across this I find it utterly hilarious, and absolutely true! And it still amazes me that even though us women know exactly what men mean when they say any of this stuff, we still pretend to believe them! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Woman driver!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Really means....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Someone who doesn't speed, tailgate, swear, make obscene gestures and has a better driving record than me." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"I don't care what color you paint the kitchen."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Really means....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"As long as it's not blue, green, pink, red, yellow, lavender, gray, mauve, black, turquoise or any other color besides white." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Can I help with dinner?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Really means....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Why isn't it already on the table?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Uh huh," "Sure, honey," or "Yes, dear."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Really mean....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Absolutely nothing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It's a conditioned response like Pavlov's dog drooling. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Good idea."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Really means....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"It'll never work. And I'll spend the rest of the day gloating." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Have you lost weight?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Really means....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"I've just spent our last $30 on a cordless drill." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"You cook just like my mother used to."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Really means....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"She used the smoke detector as a meal timer, too."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I was listening to you. It's just that I have things on my mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Really means....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"I was wondering if that red-head over there is wearing a bra." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Take a break, honey, you're working too hard."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Really means....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"I can't hear the game over the vacuum cleaner." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"That's interesting, dear."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Really means....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Are you still talking?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Honey, we don't need material things to prove our love."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Really means....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"I forgot our anniversary again."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know how bad my memory is."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Really means....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"I remember the theme song to F Troop, the address of the first girl I ever kissed, and the Vehicle Identification Numbers of every car I've ever owned, but I forgot your birthday."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I do help around the house."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Really means....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"I once put a dirty towel in the laundry basket."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know I could never love anyone else."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Really means....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"I am used to the way you yell at me, and realize it could be worse."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I missed you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Really means....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"I can't find my sock drawer, the kids are hungry and we are out of toilet paper."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm not lost. I know exactly where we are."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Really means....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"No one will ever see us alive again." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"We share the housework."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Really means....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"I make the messes, she cleans them up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I broke up with her."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Really means....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"She dumped me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(While shopping) "I like that one better."&lt;br /&gt;Really means…&lt;br /&gt;"Pick any freakin' dress and let's go home!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I like the way you cut your hair."&lt;br /&gt;Really means…&lt;br /&gt;"I liked it better before." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Yes, I like the way you cut your hair."&lt;br /&gt;Really means…&lt;br /&gt;"$50 and it doesn't look that much different!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's wrong?"&lt;br /&gt;Really means…&lt;br /&gt;"What meaningless self-inflicted psychological trauma are you going through now?"&lt;br /&gt;&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/36829962-116713833674322491?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116713833674322491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116713833674322491&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116713833674322491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116713833674322491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/male-dictionary.html' title='The Male Dictionary'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116696859262774773</id><published>2006-12-24T15:50:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-24T15:57:59.686+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Anti-Barbie Song</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Remember that excruciatingly annoying song by Aqua called "Barbie Girl"? Well, whoever created this new-and-improved version of the song is out to avenge every single person on the planet who was tortured by the original on radio and TV channels for months on end; thereby suffering the destruction of the perfectly good year of 1997. Listen and thoroughly enjoy:-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.robrob8.com/song_parody/uglygirl.htm"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;http://www.robrob8.com/song_parody/uglygirl.htm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116696859262774773?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116696859262774773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116696859262774773&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116696859262774773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116696859262774773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/anti-barbie-song.html' title='The Anti-Barbie Song'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116695415007054410</id><published>2006-12-24T11:19:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-24T11:55:50.076+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Part II: Encounters of the Street Kind</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/949073/sing-shadow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/400/648988/sing-shadow.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#6633ff;"&gt;Part I: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/encounters-of-street-kind.html#links"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#663333;"&gt;here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SpeciMEN #2: The Melody Man&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Any woman who has walked the streets of Cairo knows this guy.&lt;br /&gt;He's the one on foot/ riding a bicycle who the second you pass by him starts SINGING!! And he has this talent of making it seem like he's in the middle of a song when he just started! You cant always figure out the songs..but they usually contain "&lt;em&gt;el amar...malak ya helw...za3lan leih...tab nazra&lt;/em&gt;...etc" &amp; it's accompanied by a sleazy smile that makes you want to puke!&lt;br /&gt;If you use the "ignorance" treatment it'll pass. But lately I've resorted to giving the guy a piece of my mind (wish i could give him a peace of my puke) so I comment on his voice. Ofcourse, very negative comments! So they get surprised &amp;amp; shut up!&lt;br /&gt;Please someone tell them that their melodies are not welcome! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#6633ff;"&gt;To be continued...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116695415007054410?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116695415007054410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116695415007054410&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116695415007054410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116695415007054410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/part-ii-encounters-of-street-kind.html' title='Part II: Encounters of the Street Kind'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116682614582999534</id><published>2006-12-23T00:15:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-23T00:23:36.450+02:00</updated><title type='text'>We Drive Just Fine!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/805420/Garage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/400/759601/Garage.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It's stuff like this that perpetuates the myth that women are bad drivers! I've only bumped my car into, like, 327 other cars and 85 innocent pedestrains (just kidding...well, sort of:-))&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/36829962-116682614582999534?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116682614582999534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116682614582999534&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116682614582999534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116682614582999534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/we-drive-just-fine.html' title='We Drive Just Fine!'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116682488733843302</id><published>2006-12-22T23:59:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-23T00:07:30.170+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Male Instinct</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It's not fair to say that all men are the same, but there is no denial that there are some traits that are shared by males everywhere regardless of their age, nationality or race. One of the most noticeable trademarks of the male personality is the love of the unreachable. Men are always after the most unreachable jobs, the most unreachable cars and most importantly, the most unreachable women. It seems that the harder a woman is to get, the more they enjoy the pursuing process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The Chase:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Situation:&lt;br /&gt;"Moudy has suffered from unrequited love for months. The reason for this is that he has had a crush on Touty ever since he glimpsed her in the club. Even though she brushed him off, he pursued her for weeks and repeated boringly to his friends how he was just dying for her to like him back. He didn't lose interest in her until she decided to give him a chance. That's when he decided to pursue another girl, who was conveniently not interested in him at all."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever a man says that he doesn't really like women who play hard to get, you can be ninety nine percent sure that he's lying. In fact, men actually enjoy pursuing this type of women because for them half the fun of the relationship lies in the chase itself. Men thoroughly take pleasure in pursuing hard-to-get females. How else do you explain the fact that for as long as you can remember every single guy at school/college/work is always interested in the same girl; the one who always ignores her admirers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The Grass is Greener: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Situation:&lt;br /&gt;"Mido has been with Kooky for years and everybody knew he was head-over-heals in love with her, but he just wouldn't make a commitment. Every time he opened his mouth to propose to her he would start fantasizing about meeting other women, such as a Julia Roberts look alike or his best friend's girlfriend, whose photo he'd seen and was wishing to see the original of for months. At this point he would smile innocently and say "Kooky honey, why don't we put off this step a little longer?'"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most men believe in the saying of "The grass is greener on the other side", especially when it comes to women. Even when a man is crazy about the woman in his life he usually balks at the point of making a commitment to her. The reason for this is that every time he's about to take this decision a little voice inside his head says " You could always wait and meet someone better" or "What if you get married and then meet a rich, gorgeous movie star the next day?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The Availability Aspect:&lt;br /&gt;Situation:&lt;br /&gt;"Hamada and Kimo have been best friends for a long time. The only problem is that Hamada has become obsessed with Kimo's girlfriend. Even though he could literally be with any other girl, he just can't get her out of his mind. Despite the fact that rule number one of male friendship says "Your best friend's girlfriend is OFF LIMITS", Hamada still insists on pursuing her out of the 17, 00 different single girls in his life." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mere fact that a man can't have a woman makes her all that more appealing. The more unattainable a woman is, the more attractive she seems to be, for some reason. A classic example is the movie-star syndrome. It's when a man has a massive crush on a famous actress just because he knows that she's impossible to get. This also applies to several other cases such as the best friend's girlfriend, the neighbour's daughter and other similarily unavailable females.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The Risk Factor:&lt;br /&gt;Situation:&lt;br /&gt;"Doudy is a happily married man with three kids. He has a lucrative career in his father-in-law's company and is only one step away from a big promotion. His only problem is his infatuation with the office secretary. Knowing that if anything happens there's a 99% chance it will cause rumours in the company, get back to his boss, then to his mother-in-law and finally his wife, which will lead to him losing his job, getting kicked out of his house and becoming a nobody, he still pursues the 78 year old secretary."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All men have a risk-taking gene in their bodies which they just can't seem to have any control over. It causes them to more or less act before they think especially when it comes to pursuing women. Actually, hunting them is more like it. Males thrive on the danger that comes with hunting an unpredictable woman. In the Stone Age, men used to hunt wild animals, and since dinosaurs became extinct the next best prey became the female species (which is, as they come to realize, more dangerous than any dinosaur).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The question of "Why do men always want the women they can't have'? doesn't really have a clear cut answer except that the male motto is "What I can't get is better than what I already have". To most men, the attractiveness of a woman is directly proportional to her availability. The problem is; if all men are only interested in the unavailable women, what are all the available women supposed to do? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Source: Mask-Off Magazine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Note: This is meant to be a humorous piece, so guys, please don't be offended:-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116682488733843302?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116682488733843302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116682488733843302&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116682488733843302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116682488733843302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/male-instinct.html' title='The Male Instinct'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116671699463512812</id><published>2006-12-21T17:59:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-21T18:03:14.656+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Ode to a Nice Girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Came across this on &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://ramblinghal.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Rambling Hal's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Blog (phenomenal blog btw, you all should check it out).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Here it is ladies and gents (especially gents); &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ode to the Nice Girls&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;This rant was written because a nice girl finally snapped. I've read the tribute to the nice guys; this is my response. This is my tribute to the nice girls. To the nice girls who are overlooked, who become friends and nothing more, who spend hours fixating upon their looks and their personalities and their actions because it must be they that are doing something wrong. This is for the girls who don't give it up on the first date, who don't want to play mind games, who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they've heard a thousand times. This is for the girls who understand that they aren't perfect and that the guys they're interested in aren't either, for the girls who flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep alive that hope that maybe... maybe this time he'll have understood. This is an homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in skirts and sweats and combat boots, who care more than they should for guys who don't deserve their attention. This is for those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time and time again fake up and make up and fuck up the guys in their lives without saying a word. This is for the girls who have been there from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from "there are plenty of fish in the sea," to "time heals all wounds." This is to honor those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;This is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it's an experience that they don't want to miss out on. For the girls who have sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling, rude comments and explicit invitations that they'd rather not have experienced. This is for the girls who have spent their weekends sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting guy friend or a comatose crush, who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from someone who doesn't care enough to invite them over but is still willing to pass out in their bed. This is for the girls who have left sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint after hint only to watch him chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt. This is for the girls who have been told that they're too good or too smart or too pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;This one's for the girls who you can take home to mom, but won't because it's easier to sleep with a whore than foster a relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with. This is for the girls who have allowed a guy into their head and heart and bed, only to discover that he's just not ready, he's just not over her, he's just not looking to be tied down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because it's easier to believe that it's not that they don't want you, it's that they don't want anyone. This is for the girls who have had their hearts broken and their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every word and syllable and inflection in his speech, for the nights when you've returned home alone, for the nights when you've seen from across the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl he's with to be a random hookup. This is for the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally having realized that it wasn't that he didn't want a relationship: it was that he didn't want you. I honor you for the night his dog died or his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his car and you held him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he'd realize what it was that he already had. This is for the night you realized that it would never happen, and the sunrise you saw the next morning after failing to sleep. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;This is for the "I really like you, so let's still be friends" comment after you read more into a situation than he ever intended; this is for never realizing that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself to sleep. This is for the hugs you've received from your female friends, for the nights they've reassured you that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy; this is for the despair you all felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you'd have was with a pillow and your teddy bear. This is for the girls who have been used and abused, who have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights we've believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we'd have ever wanted. This is for the girls who have been satisified with too little and who have learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who don't think that they deserve more, because they've been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps thrown to them by guys. This is what I don't understand. Men sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them and don't appreciate them and don't want them; who use them for sex and think of little else than where their next conquest will be made. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful; men despair that no good women want to share in their lives, that girls play mindgames, that girls love to keep them hanging. Yet, men, I ask you: were you to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful and smart girls, were you to give her your number and wait for her to call... and if you were to receive a call from her the next day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and attractive and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call your friends to tell them of the "stalker chick" you'd met the night prior, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told the truth? And would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once again return to the bar or club or party scene and search once more for this "nice girl" who you just cannot seem to find? Because therein lies the truth, guys: we nice girls are everywhere. But you're not looking for a nice girl. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You're not looking for someone genuinely interested in your intermural basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that argument you keep having with your father; you're looking for a quick fix, a night when you can pretend to have a connection with another human being which is just as disposable as the condom you were using during it. So don't say you're on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass us up on every step you take. Sometimes we go undercover; sometimes we go in disguise: sometimes when that girl in the low cut shirt or the too tight miniskirt won't answer your catcalls, sometimes you're looking at a nice girl in whore's clothing - - we might say we like the attention, we might blush and giggle and turn back to our friends, but we're all thinking the same thing: "This isn't me. Tomorrow morning, I'll be wearing a teeshirt and flannel shorts, I'll have slept alone and I'll be making my hungover best friend breakfast. See through the disguise. See me." You never do. Why? Because you only see the exterior, you only see the slutty girl who welcomes those advances. You don't want the nice girl.. so don't say you're looking for a relationship: relationships take time and energy and intent, three things we're willing to extend - - but in return, we're looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things you never seem willing to express. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the race they're running they're chasing after the whores and the sluts and the easy-targets... the nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a congradulatory hug (and yes, if she's a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness probably won't matter), hoping against hope that maybe you'll realize that they're the ones that you want at the end of that silly race. So maybe it won't last forever. Maybe some of those guys in that race will turn in their running shoes and make their way to the concession stand where we're waiting; however, until that happens, we still have each other, that silly race to watch, and all the chocolate we can eat (because what's a concession stand at a race without some chocolate?) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sometimes the nice girl gets sick of waiting .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Source: Click &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://newyork.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/114087824.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116671699463512812?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116671699463512812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116671699463512812&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116671699463512812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116671699463512812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/ode-to-nice-girl.html' title='Ode to a Nice Girl'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116669490019277307</id><published>2006-12-21T11:12:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-21T11:55:14.723+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Encounters of the STREET kind!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/320/528450/image004.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Egyptian women are constantly bombarded by such a wonderful time on the street!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been brought to my attention that not all egyptian men are even &lt;em&gt;aware&lt;/em&gt; of what we go through day in and day out by just &lt;strong&gt;walking/driving/riding&lt;/strong&gt; in the street!&lt;br /&gt;I will try to explain to those unaware men, mearly beacause I believe these men don't know because they do not contribute to our misery..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SpeciMEN #1: The Crazy Taxy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When hauling a taxi cab you are usually judged by your looks...meaning..if you're well-dressed it translates to paying alot. So the moment you get into the cab.. you check your watch to see how long the trip will take.. you start praying quietly the streets aren't crouded or else the driver will start talking which means big problem! If and when he starts talking, he'll either be the talkative kind &amp; ultimatley go into politics &amp;amp; the how the US controls the UN(!) blabla &lt;strong&gt;OR&lt;/strong&gt; he'll start swearing 3al balad wel 3eisha!&lt;br /&gt;Ofcourse there is also the religious extremist diver..who apart from looking at you with scary eyes..will start an obnoxiously loud cassette tape with a strange man shouting his lung out about how Muslim women should dress &amp; act!&lt;br /&gt;So you, if you're lucky, arrive to your destination. It's time for a very tricky &amp;amp; artful technique: How to get out of the cab, pay &amp;amp; start walking away in the same instant! Or else, you're in for a fight for paying too little, going too far, or being inconciderate to the time of day the driver graciously gave you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To be continued...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&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/36829962-116669490019277307?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116669490019277307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116669490019277307&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116669490019277307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116669490019277307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/encounters-of-street-kind.html' title='Encounters of the STREET kind!!!'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116661756023492148</id><published>2006-12-20T14:18:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-20T14:28:59.180+02:00</updated><title type='text'>OUCH! 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The second worst day in history is when things dont work out with the love of your life..but further ...when you HAVE to move on..but you dont know how to "undo" your past love!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116661756023492148?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116661756023492148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116661756023492148&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116661756023492148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116661756023492148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/ouch-2.html' title='OUCH! 2'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116653469115772939</id><published>2006-12-19T15:19:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-19T15:34:58.783+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Ouch!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The worst day in history is the day you find someone who is near perfect for you, that they love you too and that it's never going to work out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116653469115772939?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116653469115772939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116653469115772939&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116653469115772939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116653469115772939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/ouch.html' title='Ouch!'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116644345680087786</id><published>2006-12-18T13:43:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-18T14:04:17.846+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Love!...Whats ur best Definition of love?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;How do you girls &amp; guys define Love?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;If you have been in a "real" love relationship..one that is unforgettable&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Tell us:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;1) how did it feel when u first discovered.."Looks like I am in Love?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;2) After how long did u feel like u r in love?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;3) Did it end?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;4) If it ended, did u encounter a similar type of love?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Not mere definitions..But incidents!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;But pls when u send us..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;jsut tell us whether u r a girl or a guy?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;lets Play! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116644345680087786?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116644345680087786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116644345680087786&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116644345680087786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116644345680087786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/lovewhats-ur-best-definition-of-love.html' title='Love!...Whats ur best Definition of love?'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116634895890562864</id><published>2006-12-17T11:20:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-17T12:49:46.196+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Divorce Party</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/258503/shanna-moakler-divorce-party-11-3-2006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/320/951359/shanna-moakler-divorce-party-11-3-2006.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/606703/shanna.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 273px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 248px" height="248" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/320/623779/shanna.jpg" width="320" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/445111/divorce%20cake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/320/11718/divorce%20cake.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;Engagement party... Bachelor's party... Bachelorette party... Wedding Party...&lt;br /&gt;All heard of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;But &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shanna_Moakler"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;Shanna Moakler&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;decided to have a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.starpulse.com/news/index.php/2006/11/07/shanna_moakler_s_divorce_party_sparks_a_/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;DIVORCE PARTY&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;Well I couldn't resist the hysterical/ historical cake! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116634895890562864?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116634895890562864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116634895890562864&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116634895890562864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116634895890562864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/divorce-party.html' title='Divorce Party'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116634648714493307</id><published>2006-12-17T11:05:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-17T11:08:07.146+02:00</updated><title type='text'>I love you so much, It Hurts!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/53934/headache.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/320/614617/headache.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116634648714493307?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116634648714493307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116634648714493307&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116634648714493307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116634648714493307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/i-love-you-so-much-it-hurts.html' title='I love you so much, It Hurts!'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116630276551419911</id><published>2006-12-16T22:58:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-16T23:02:37.646+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Warning: Expires at 30</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;We have a problem. By "We" I mean single Egyptian females. As soon as we put college and all its achievement related anxiety behind us with a big sigh of relief, we are yet again faced with another challenge; getting a husband (preferably before the rest of our friends and female relatives). Suddenly, all every single person in our lives is interested in is when we're getting married. Mothers, aunts and older sisters are full of advice. Distant relatives and people we barely know are getting us potential suitors. Regardless of our career advancement and extracurricular activities, the marriage issue takes over our lives, whether we like it or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3o2balek ya 7abebty:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Ever since I graduated I've been bombarded with nosy questions and sly comments about my love life. One of my older female relatives was congratulating me on my graduation when she just couldn't help the follow up comment of " Yalla sheddy 7eilek ba2a we hatelna 3arees zay Marwa we Nermine". I had to bite my tongue to avoid saying "Asheddo ezay ya3ny? Anzel a2ool 3arees lelah?!" Another time I met one of my friends from college by coincidence in the street, and she kept looking at my hand incredulously while saying "Where's the ring?! I can't believe you're not engaged yet. We ALL are. Matyallah ba2a." Also on several occasions, people have wished me good luck on "finding" a good husband, like I'm going on a husband hunting trip. Why not wish me luck on "meeting" the right guy?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Gaylek 3arees home delivery:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personally, I don't understand what the rush is. People get married when they meet somebody, not the other way around. Why is there so much pressure on us to take this decision in the shortest amount of time? Of course, it's rare that a girl gets married against her wishes nowadays but the tacit pressure to do this can drive one to accept someone she doesn't really want just to get it over with.&lt;br /&gt;Years ago when men and women didn't really mingle a lot, some people came up with the "brilliant" idea of fixing young people up by putting the girl and boy (and both their families) in one room (el salon) and letting both of them check each other out (discreetly) in this comfortable (not) atmosphere. These days things aren't so rigid, but the whole idea of "fix-ups" still has a lot of appeal to many people in order to hurry up the process. Most of the time, the fix ups don't work. How can we make this life changing decision in thirty minutes of sitting awkwardly across from someone we don't know with both our families watching expectantly? Anyway, the big problem is what happens after the "date". Our families are so eager for us to finally agree on a suitor that they're really disappointed when we don't. For them, our refusal is commonly called "dala3" and/or "tanaka" and this is often followed by "Enty 3awza meen ya3ny; Hussein Fahmy? Khaleeky et2amary keda le7ad matboury."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;El7a2y el atr:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;I was talking with some of my girl friends the other day, when one of them started telling us about a suitor recommended by her uncle. After she got to know him for a while, she felt that there wasn't enough of a spark between them so she broke it off. Afterwards she had this conversation with her uncle:&lt;br /&gt;"What's wrong with him?"&lt;br /&gt;"Nothing's wrong with him, he's alright. I just don't feel that he's the one."&lt;br /&gt;"Well, if there's nothing wrong with him, why don't you want him?"&lt;br /&gt;"I just don't feel that way about him"&lt;br /&gt;"Maybe we can persuade him to change the things you don't like about him."&lt;br /&gt;"Uncle Ahmed, there's nothing I don't like about the guy."&lt;br /&gt;"Then WHY don't you want him?"&lt;br /&gt;Another one had a similar story but with some additional insult. After she rejected a potential groom, her aunt (who'd recommended him) took her aside and started to slyly hint at a certain unwritten rule regarding girls and marriage in Egypt. "You know honey; you really shouldn't keep on being so choosy when we bring you suitors. I mean, we used to tolerate it when you were younger, but now…"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So basically girls, we have an imaginary expiry (or actually a best-before) date tattooed on our foreheads: the closer we get to the ripe old age of 30, the less our worth becomes in the marriage market. At this point, we will be expected to settle for a less successful, less good looking and less than our expectations husband simply because we are afraid of of the dreaded "3anes" label. This, as you know, would be a fate worse than death in this country!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Source: Mask-Off Magazine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116630276551419911?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116630276551419911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116630276551419911&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116630276551419911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116630276551419911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/warning-expires-at-30.html' title='Warning: Expires at 30'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116608839696101672</id><published>2006-12-14T11:18:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-14T11:31:06.286+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The One??</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/648149/Bet_i26xlz.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/400/652724/Bet_i26xlz.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;How can you tell? In a dating scene as complicated as Cairo's; could you ever be certain that this blind date isn't really a black hole? Or that the person you are seeing isn't really some serial killer or some perverted freak?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm to date is to take the risk, so I guess the question would really be to date or not to date? To meet someone new or not to? To take chances and just wing it and bear the consequences?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would you do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116608839696101672?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116608839696101672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116608839696101672&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116608839696101672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116608839696101672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/one.html' title='The One??'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116600147708817042</id><published>2006-12-13T11:03:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-13T11:17:57.416+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Cheaters - URGHH</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/201328/saucey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/320/440255/saucey.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;Have you been cheated on before? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;I have.. a long time ago..&lt;br /&gt;So how does that feel?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;Betrayal.. a strong word.. has so much disrespect in it...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;Women are, I think, by nature more loyal than men.. I guess men dont search for stability as much as they search for enjoyment.. while women are created as nesters.. looking for security/stability so as to settle down.. relax.. maybe make a family..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;Men, the hunters, search for work, money.. &amp; yes women..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;Not all men ofcourse cheat, those are the ones who dont want to get caught.. &amp;amp; yes, who have respect &amp; true love to their women.. a precious few.. (gladly i think in our community they are many).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;Q: So, what does a woman do when cheated on?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;a. confront him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;b. give him another chance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;c. find the "other woman" &amp;amp; give her a piece of her mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;d. end everything without looking back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116600147708817042?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116600147708817042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116600147708817042&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116600147708817042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116600147708817042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/cheaters-urghh.html' title='Cheaters - URGHH'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116583649066681163</id><published>2006-12-11T13:19:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-11T13:32:35.396+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Fashion Tips For Guys: and they really need them:-)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You know how you feel when your guy shows up for your date wearing- for the umpteenth time- that fashion crime he calls a sweater? Well, you're not alone. Most of us would pay a 100000000000000000000 pounds to be able to burn at least one item in our boyfriend's/ fiance's/husband's closet. Anyway, I came across this last week on &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.msn.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;www.msn.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; and I thought it basically summed up what women want their men to wear- and not to wear:-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;What Women Want Their Men to Wear&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;They like you in sneakers, they hate paisley, and you'd probably get more action if you dressed like a fireman. Here, the women staffers of Cosmopolitan, Marie Claire, O, and Harper's Bazaar dole out advice in our exclusive survey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I prefer a man's legs in:&lt;br /&gt;A. Chinos 6.5%&lt;br /&gt;B. Levi's 80.6%&lt;br /&gt;C. Suit pants 9.7%&lt;br /&gt;D. Board shorts 3.2%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. The most flattering color a man can wear is:&lt;br /&gt;A. Blue 41.9%&lt;br /&gt;B. Green 3.2%&lt;br /&gt;C. Pink 12.9%&lt;br /&gt;D. Whatever matches his eyes 35.5%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. The sexiest thing a man can wear is:&lt;br /&gt;A. A tuxedo 22.6%&lt;br /&gt;B. Rugged jeans and a plain white T-shirt 67.7%&lt;br /&gt;C. Those Marky Mark boxer-briefs 6.5%&lt;br /&gt;D. A pair of tiny Italian swim trunks 3.2%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I like it when he smells like:&lt;br /&gt;A. Nothing 58.1%&lt;br /&gt;B. A sweaty fireman 6.5%&lt;br /&gt;C. Citrusy cologne 16%&lt;br /&gt;D. Scotch 19.4%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. If I could change one thing about my man's style, it would be:&lt;br /&gt;A. I'd make him spend more than fifteen bucks on a haircut 25.8%&lt;br /&gt;B. I'd teach him the subtleties of wearing or not wearing cologne 3.2%&lt;br /&gt;C. I'd give away his double-pleated pants and buy him flat fronts 35.5%&lt;br /&gt;D. His shoes. Oh, my God, his shoes. 25.8%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. When I see a guy in sandals, I think:&lt;br /&gt;A. A simple flip-flop will do 61.3%&lt;br /&gt;B. He's coming nowhere near my uterus 6.5%&lt;br /&gt;C. He has sexy toes. I want to see 'em. 6.5%&lt;br /&gt;D. Sandals haven't looked sexy on a man since they were worn by the Son of God 25.7%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. My favorite thing to borrow from my man is:&lt;br /&gt;A. His worn-out button-down shirt 45.2%&lt;br /&gt;B. His underwear 6.5%&lt;br /&gt;C. His robe 12.9%&lt;br /&gt;D. His State U. sweatshirt 32.3%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. The most common male fashion crime I witness on a regular basis is:&lt;br /&gt;A. Athletic socks worn with dress shoes 25.8%&lt;br /&gt;B. Pants that are too short 32.3%&lt;br /&gt;C. Grossly miscalculated uses of pattern 12.9%&lt;br /&gt;D. A suit that's way too big 25.8%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. A man who dresses better than me:&lt;br /&gt;A. Would probably use all my expensive hair products 12.9%&lt;br /&gt;B. Is my hero 16.1%&lt;br /&gt;C. Yeah, right. Do you know who you're talking to? 19.4%&lt;br /&gt;D. Is generally not interested in dating my gender 51.6%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. My man looks best in:&lt;br /&gt;A. Sneakers 35.5%&lt;br /&gt;B. Boots 32.3%&lt;br /&gt;C. Suede bucks 6.5%&lt;br /&gt;D. A shiny pair of dress shoes 19.4%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. I like it best when he comes to bed wearing: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;A. Those flannel pajamas with the big buttons 3.2%&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;B. Just boxers 67.7%&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;C. Just socks 0%&lt;br /&gt;D. Nothing at all 29%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. I like his jeans to fit:&lt;br /&gt;A. Like John Travolta's in Urban Cowboy 3.2%&lt;br /&gt;B. Like Brad Pitt's in Thelma and Louise 83.9%&lt;br /&gt;C. Like Jay-Z's onstage 3.2%&lt;br /&gt;D. Like Huck Finn's in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn 3.2%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. The acceptable dollar amount for a man to spend on a haircut is:&lt;br /&gt;A. $15 29%&lt;br /&gt;B. $50 41.9%&lt;br /&gt;C. $100 22.6%&lt;br /&gt;D. $0; I'm good with a pair of shears 6.5%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. My favorite kind of suit on a man is a:&lt;br /&gt;A. Two-button 32.3%&lt;br /&gt;B. Three-button 51.6%&lt;br /&gt;C. Double-breasted 9.7%&lt;br /&gt;D. Sailor's suit 3.2%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. My favorite type of men's shirt is:&lt;br /&gt;A. A dress shirt with French cuffs 41.9%&lt;br /&gt;B. A knit, short-sleeved polo shirt 12.9%&lt;br /&gt;C. A plain white tee 42%&lt;br /&gt;D. A taut, ribbed tank top that shows off his guns 3.2%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. My favorite pattern for a man's tie is:&lt;br /&gt;A. Paisley 6.5%&lt;br /&gt;B. Collegiate stripe 16.1%&lt;br /&gt;C. Plain, with texture 71%&lt;br /&gt;D. The ones with all those cute little sailboats on 'em 3.2%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. My favorite man in uniform is:&lt;br /&gt;A. Naval officer 35.5%&lt;br /&gt;B. Policeman 9.7%&lt;br /&gt;C. Fireman 51.6%&lt;br /&gt;D. My UPS guy 3.2%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. If my man asked me to pick one style icon for him to emulate, I would pick:&lt;br /&gt;A. Johnny Depp 25.8%&lt;br /&gt;B. George Clooney 61.3%&lt;br /&gt;C. Tom Wolfe 0%&lt;br /&gt;D. Kanye West 9.7%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. An average man becomes instantly bed-worthy when:&lt;br /&gt;A. He displays finely manicured hands 6.5%&lt;br /&gt;B. He wears an impeccably detailed dress shirt 22.6%&lt;br /&gt;C. He dons a tuxedo 29%&lt;br /&gt;D. He just doesn't give a damn 32.3%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. A man should dress for:&lt;br /&gt;A. His mom 0%&lt;br /&gt;B. His boss 3.2%&lt;br /&gt;C. Me 35.5%&lt;br /&gt;D. Himself 61.3%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most Disturbing Advice on Jeans:&lt;br /&gt;"Above all, you've got to buy your jeans tight, guys, knowing they'll stretch. Jeans that are too big are, in my opinion, men's number-one fashion mistake." -Lauren Gard, Marie Claire&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most Welcome Advice on Scent:&lt;br /&gt;"All men have their own scent-whether it be cigarettes and river water or the Old Spice aftershave that his mom buys him-and if they're sexy, then their smell is sexy." -Polly Brewster, O&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116583649066681163?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116583649066681163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116583649066681163&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116583649066681163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116583649066681163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/fashion-tips-for-guys-and-they-really.html' title='Fashion Tips For Guys: and they really need them:-)'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116582785253490101</id><published>2006-12-11T10:58:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-11T11:04:12.536+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Anti-smilers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/166610/smile.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/400/186341/smile.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/817387/smile.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ever noticed that men are not too much into smiling? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men either laugh out loud till glass breaks or they have this serious (sometimes dumb) look.&lt;br /&gt;And the situation gets worse as they get older..&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/36829962-116582785253490101?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116582785253490101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116582785253490101&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116582785253490101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116582785253490101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/anti-smilers.html' title='Anti-smilers'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116575095710486326</id><published>2006-12-10T13:13:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-10T13:47:30.573+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A Girl's Best Friends</title><content type='html'>When Marilyn Monroe said that "Diamonds are a girl's best friends" she was right- to an extent. Diamonds have an uncanny ability to make a girl feel like a million bucks, but I say they take a back seat to a girl's real best friends; her girl friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who else can you go to for advice on how to get a guy, how to keep a guy and how to get over a guy? A best girl friend is good for other stuff besides guy advice, too. She's able to assume the role of a personal stylist (on shopping expeditions), therapist, bodyguard (against ex-boyfriends and other girls who don't like you), advice columnist and Reuters (for gossip:-)). I don't even need to mention those great inside jokes (usually incredibly embarrassing or sex-related) that only you could get and the hilarious afternoons spent together doing nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what's the best thing about having good girl friends? It's when you break up with a guy and your heart is completely broken and they all come over to your house with chocolate, pizza, other unhealthy stuff and a box of tissues just to hug you and say "That good for nothing creep. All along we'd all been thinking that you deserved better than that a******. What did you see in him anyway? I mean, he's going bald! And did you seeeeeee what he was wearing last time we went out? Ugh, those shoes! Honey, you're so incredibly beautiful you'll meet a guy ten times better looking and sweeter than that "@$$%^££. Richer, too. You'll see. Now cheer up and let's watch the movie we got for you. It's R rated."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116575095710486326?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116575095710486326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116575095710486326&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116575095710486326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116575095710486326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/girls-best-friends.html' title='A Girl&apos;s Best Friends'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116574566753477590</id><published>2006-12-10T12:11:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-10T12:15:38.026+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Hell Hath No Fury Like A Woman's Wrath</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/815/3809/1600/Wife.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/815/3809/1600/Wife.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Why anybody in their right mind would want to get on a women's bad side or risk being black-listed is beyond me. Women get hurt, get angry and eventually get REVENGE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't get mad honey, get EVERYTHING" ~ The First Wives Club&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116574566753477590?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116574566753477590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116574566753477590&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116574566753477590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116574566753477590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/hell-hath-no-fury-like-womans-wrath.html' title='Hell Hath No Fury Like A Woman&apos;s Wrath'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116547823840873102</id><published>2006-12-07T09:26:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-07T09:59:33.703+02:00</updated><title type='text'>On being a Bitch</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;It is a gift, a blessing from god to exist in a perpetual state of niceness. To be able to be caring supportive and understanding all the time. To be an overall decent individual. It is a truely remarkable thing, moreover it is an issue of choice. One chooses to be all of the above or one chooses to be different, one may also go to the extent of being a complete bitch all the time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;The problem here, if any, is one of perception. Our society looks down on those seemingly NICE individuals, they are seen as weaklings with no personality unable to stand up for themselves. Can't begin to tell you how untrue that is. The fact that one chooses not to be an obnoxious bitch is in no way an indication of their inability to become one if need arises.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;It would take a lot to infuriate me to the extent where I would treat you like that; but if I were ever a bitch to you... know that you bloody well deserved it and that I most definately am not in the least bit sorry.&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/36829962-116547823840873102?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116547823840873102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116547823840873102&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116547823840873102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116547823840873102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/on-being-bitch.html' title='On being a Bitch'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116540587685414972</id><published>2006-12-06T13:20:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-06T13:56:25.503+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Chocolate</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/940267/chocolate%20love.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/320/940434/chocolate%20love.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;When love tastes good..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listen whole song now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.allofmp3.com/share.shtml?token=2144623113&amp;lang=eng&amp;amp;group=3136&amp;album=2&amp;amp;song=11" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Shanice&lt;/strong&gt; "Every Woman Dreams"— Chocolate&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;I remember when i was a little girl&lt;br /&gt;A hersheys kiss was my favorite thing in the world&lt;br /&gt;When i was lost i always turned to something sweet&lt;br /&gt;A candy bar would always satisfy me instantly[uh huh] and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Chorus:]&lt;br /&gt;Your my chocolate,your my chocolate&lt;br /&gt;Caramel, creamy filled, 100% filled chocolate your my chocolate,&lt;br /&gt;Cocoa butter honey lover your like no other&lt;br /&gt;Your my chocolate,your my chocolate like hot fudge your too much&lt;br /&gt;I cant get enough of your chocolate, Your chocolate you are my favorite candy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday you would always surprise me with something new&lt;br /&gt;Candle light and a dozen roses just to name a few [few,few,few]&lt;br /&gt;You always seem to know the things that im feeling&lt;br /&gt;You always give to me the things that im needing&lt;br /&gt;I cant ever let you go your the sweetest candy that i've ever known&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Chorus:]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Bridge:]&lt;br /&gt;You are my chocolate ohoh my chocolate&lt;br /&gt;Yes you are my chocolate, caramel filled my chocolate,&lt;br /&gt;Yes you are my chocolate,cocoa butter honey lover, like no other&lt;br /&gt;Yes you are my chocolate,like hot fudge your too much I cant get enough of your chocolate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus:] [2x] &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&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/36829962-116540587685414972?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116540587685414972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116540587685414972&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116540587685414972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116540587685414972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/chocolate.html' title='Chocolate'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116539318599109537</id><published>2006-12-06T10:02:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-06T10:19:46.006+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Teach your Tarzan</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/772938/tarzan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 291px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 228px" height="228" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/320/612551/tarzan.jpg" width="320" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;The male and female brains work in different ways. Fact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ivillage.co.uk/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#333333;"&gt;i-village &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;there's an article on the "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ivillage.co.uk/relationships/understanding/whyhedoesthat/articles/0,,694168_695592,00.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#333333;"&gt;Seven things he won't know he's doing wrong until you tell him&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;" (If only they were 7!):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. Being abrupt on the telephone. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. Offering solutions when you just want him to listen. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. Being silent when he's considering his own problems. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. Refusing to ask for directions when you're lost.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. Looking at other women.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6. Making arrangements in front of people. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7. Giving vague responses about what he's been up to. &lt;/strong&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/36829962-116539318599109537?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116539318599109537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116539318599109537&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116539318599109537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116539318599109537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/teach-your-tarzan.html' title='Teach your Tarzan'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116532798069648983</id><published>2006-12-05T16:08:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-06T14:26:42.826+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Cairo Cinema Festival</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/445532/Hind.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/400/757900/Hind.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Did you watch the opening boys and girls? What did you think? I know this blog's title translates "girls' secrets" but had to comment on this phenomena. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Did you notice what our starlets were wearing? or more accurately what they were not wearing? I can't believe the level of stripping we have sunk to. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I'm a Hind Sabry fan but for real, come one, she was wearing a belly dancing outfit!!!! &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/36829962-116532798069648983?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116532798069648983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116532798069648983&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116532798069648983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116532798069648983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/cairo-cinema-festival.html' title='Cairo Cinema Festival'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116530794905582374</id><published>2006-12-05T10:13:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-05T13:00:29.876+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Dont miss when you pi**!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/121554/70[1].jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/320/987464/70%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#996633;"&gt;Couldn't resist the pic!&lt;br /&gt;They should have another one with the right &amp; wrong way of targetting your pee in men's bathrooms!&lt;br /&gt;Men, I think, are actually blessed with a utensil *smirk* that makes peeing ooh soo much easier than women! They can just stand &amp;amp; have it done with..totally avoid close encounters with outdoor toilets!&lt;br /&gt;But I'd guess that if someone had such a utensil for all their life..they'd know how to use it!!!!&lt;br /&gt;WHY, oh WHY can't "most" men point at the center of the toilet?? Why do they splash all around?? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#996633;"&gt;At least we know &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.haroldsplanet.com/artprints/hpz_toilet.gif"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#996633;"&gt;what they think of in the toilet &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#996633;"&gt;:P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116530794905582374?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116530794905582374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116530794905582374&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116530794905582374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116530794905582374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/dont-miss-when-you-pi.html' title='Dont miss when you pi**!'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116527514971642389</id><published>2006-12-05T00:59:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-05T01:34:52.523+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Those Happy Sappy Teenage Years</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Remember that time, when you were about oh, 16 or 17? I don't know about you, but I used to have a serious case of the "cheesies." Every crush I had was "true love, 4ever and ever", my desk at school was covered in "fakeeha loves ramzys"* and doodles of hearts and flowers, and I wrote poems! Long, mushy poems about unrequited love and long, tortured, sleepless nights. When I look back on those days I find it hilarious that I was such a drama queen. I actually have a folder of incredibly embarrassing poems I could post for your entertainment; stuff along the lines of:baby i luv u so much&lt;br /&gt;i cant live without ur touch&lt;br /&gt;But I decided to post something a little less lame. This is my only happy teenage poem (I mean, amidst all the "why don't you love mes" and "how could you leave mes". Ah, I miss those days:-) and one which I was encouraged to post by a new friend whom I hope wasn't just being incredibly nice and diplomatic when she told me it didn't completely suck:-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Promise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promiseTo be your companion whenever you are lonely&lt;br /&gt;To always have my arms wide open&lt;br /&gt;Whenever you feel that you need me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise&lt;br /&gt;Never to complain when you are in a bad mood&lt;br /&gt;But to give you the time and space you need&lt;br /&gt;And listen to you patiently whenever I could&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I vow&lt;br /&gt;To stay by your side even if you are wrong&lt;br /&gt;But to tell you that fact to your face&lt;br /&gt;However hard it stung&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I vow&lt;br /&gt;Never to redicule anything you say or do&lt;br /&gt;Or laugh at your silly daydreams&lt;br /&gt;Because, frankly, I’d expect the same from you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear&lt;br /&gt;To be there for you no matter what&lt;br /&gt;To help you in any way&lt;br /&gt;Whenever life’s door is shut&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear&lt;br /&gt;To respect your feelings as if they were my own&lt;br /&gt;To try to understand When you need to be alone&lt;br /&gt;I knowThat one day I may make you angry, sad or hurt&lt;br /&gt;But be sure that I’ll never mean itSo forgive me, no matter what I blurt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know&lt;br /&gt;That it’s sometimes hard for you to understand me&lt;br /&gt;That it’s frustrating because you don’t yet know&lt;br /&gt;That what I really need is your standing beside me silently&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I appreciate&lt;br /&gt;Every honest word you ever told me gently&lt;br /&gt;Regarding something I was doing wrong&lt;br /&gt;Your patience, when I resisted obstinately&lt;br /&gt;I appreciate&lt;br /&gt;Your faithfulness, your sacrifice, your loyalty&lt;br /&gt;The times you were always there&lt;br /&gt;And the wonderful way you let me be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe&lt;br /&gt;That one day we may flow apart, you might not even need me&lt;br /&gt;But my memory of you and what we shared&lt;br /&gt;Will live on in my heart, right where it should be&lt;br /&gt;I believe&lt;br /&gt;That then if we close our eyes and think of each other&lt;br /&gt;The smiles on our faces&lt;br /&gt;Will mean that we remember what we had together&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want you to know&lt;br /&gt;Your place in my heart and your value&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn’t be the person I am todayIf it weren’t for you&lt;br /&gt;I want you to know&lt;br /&gt;That I’ll stand beside you through everything&lt;br /&gt;I’ll share your laughter and your tears&lt;br /&gt;And face with you what life may bring&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My love&lt;br /&gt;I pray to God everyday&lt;br /&gt;To grant you the happiness you deserve&lt;br /&gt;To guide you every step of the way&lt;br /&gt;I also pray to Him thankfully&lt;br /&gt;For the wonderful gift that is you&lt;br /&gt;And to promise him&lt;br /&gt;To treasure you&lt;br /&gt;To cherish your friendship&lt;br /&gt;Everyday of my life&lt;br /&gt;And as long as I live&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Names have been changed to protect identities:-) (lol) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116527514971642389?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116527514971642389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116527514971642389&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116527514971642389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116527514971642389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/those-happy-sappy-teenage-years.html' title='Those Happy Sappy Teenage Years'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116513965699687780</id><published>2006-12-03T11:49:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-12-04T17:20:12.003+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Mixed Signal Central</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Hmmm. Thinking of petitioning to have my official place of residence changed on my national ID. For my current adress is no longer descriptive.. I ladies and gents reside at Mixed Signals Central. Its a tough place to live and yet completely overcrowded with other equally confused and dillusional inhabitants. With every passing moment the situation seems to change. One instant you're head over heels in love. The next they don't even seem to care. In the words of Rob Thomas "when you tell me you love me know for sure.. I don't want to be lonely any more". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8CkpztpIzjM" width="425" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116513965699687780?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116513965699687780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116513965699687780&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116513965699687780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116513965699687780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/12/mixed-signal-central.html' title='Mixed Signal Central'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116487868673312859</id><published>2006-11-30T11:22:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-30T11:24:46.743+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Marry Yourself</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/1600/475050/myself.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/400/579966/myself.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116487868673312859?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116487868673312859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116487868673312859&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116487868673312859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116487868673312859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/marry-yourself.html' title='Marry Yourself'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116470811083757728</id><published>2006-11-28T11:44:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-28T12:01:55.753+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hopeless Romantics</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/1600/romantic.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/400/romantic.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;Are men "really" romantic??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;Ok, are SOME men "really" romantic?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;No.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;I dont think so.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;Men don't do (when they do, that is) romantic gestures cause they want to or cause it makes them feel good..they do it to get girls to fall for them.. And if the girl already fell for them, they do it to keep the girl satisfied..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;Well, fair enough. Or is it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;When men get flowers.. gifts.. buy you dinner.. do you think they're truley being authentic??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;Now I'm NOT saying this for any of the following reasons:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;to try to make men truly enjoy romance.. not in their genes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;to make men stop doing romantic gestures...(howa had la2y).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;I'm merely stating a reality for those of you who dont know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt; Men are attracted to women physically..by sight. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;Women are attracted emotionally.. by feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116470811083757728?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116470811083757728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116470811083757728&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116470811083757728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116470811083757728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/hopeless-romantics.html' title='The Hopeless Romantics'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116463340697165784</id><published>2006-11-27T14:56:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-28T10:28:47.953+02:00</updated><title type='text'>"Happily Ever After"...a myth?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Hey gurls,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hakhosh fel mawdou3 3alatoul..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was talking to on of my colleagues.."MALE"..he is a nice young mane.. 30 years old ..married 4-5 years ago ..with a 3 yr old kid and expecting soon another isa..supposedly he got married after a love story ..zemeltouh fel gam3a (AUC)..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so far..the normal story..&lt;br /&gt;where its supposed to be ended with "Happily Ever After"..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i barely know the guy..he jsut joined our team..&lt;br /&gt;i noticed he was talkin to his wife over the phone (wasnt eavesdropping...bass howa a23ed oddamy) [side thought?: shouldnt it be earsdropping? gatt menain eaves?]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ma3alina..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he then came to me chatting..&lt;br /&gt;he was like..el gawaz dah mot3eb..&lt;br /&gt;its boils down to demands and obligations..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i was of course all attentive and asked about his marriage story..&lt;br /&gt;which he gladly described ..as i jsut wrote above..&lt;br /&gt;so i was like,&lt;br /&gt;Me: it cant be possibly be this only..to me am dreaming that marriage is about partnership..sharing all your moments..of course there will be moments of boredom and jsut routine..but it can be only about demands and oblgations.&lt;br /&gt;He: No believe me! it will just be it..3eshra!&lt;br /&gt;Me: but at least u loved your wife b4&lt;br /&gt;He: mesh far2ah keteer!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;Me: ma32oula?&lt;br /&gt;He: the best thing in marriage believe me is ur kids&lt;br /&gt;Me: tab ur wife?&lt;br /&gt;He: she is there ..yeah&lt;br /&gt;Me: u r makin the story very dull..&lt;br /&gt;He: believe me..it is kinda&lt;br /&gt;Me:........ (inner cry: ya mammy!)&lt;br /&gt;He: marriage is amongst one of the things u accomplish in life..so it becomes part of ur life..beside other things..so 3ady!&lt;br /&gt;Me:....... (inner prayer: ya rab i dont end up talking about my marriage the same way)&lt;br /&gt;He: its jsut like having a mobile!!!!&lt;br /&gt;Me: na3am??&lt;br /&gt;He: ma3aky Kart wala Khatt...it depends on what u can afford!&lt;br /&gt;Me: gawaz=mobile?&lt;br /&gt;He: yeah..7aga ya3ny ma3aky..and it differs from one person to another..khatt wala kart!&lt;br /&gt;Me:.........................&lt;br /&gt;He: ana mesh 3ayez a7bettek!&lt;br /&gt;Me: (eye roll) howa enta lessa..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;El mohem, dont want to recite the whole talk...this is enough!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So..&lt;br /&gt;Yeah i know marriage is not a fairy tale..&lt;br /&gt;yeah i know happily ever after might be a myth...&lt;br /&gt;but Excuse me..MOBILE?? ?(tab no3ouh eih?!)&lt;br /&gt;then whats with all the talk about sharing and caring..or this is how its supposed to be..&lt;br /&gt;Shouldnt i dream of making marriage a fairy tale?&lt;br /&gt;or being realistic demands that i see marriage that way??&lt;br /&gt;a MOBILE??? (tab i-mate tayyeb?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7ad yefahemny?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116463340697165784?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116463340697165784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116463340697165784&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116463340697165784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116463340697165784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/happily-ever-aftera-myth.html' title='&quot;Happily Ever After&quot;...a myth?!'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116456152078577711</id><published>2006-11-26T19:16:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-26T19:18:40.796+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Deepest emotions</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.glasbergen.com/images/mar16.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.glasbergen.com/images/mar16.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116456152078577711?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116456152078577711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116456152078577711&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116456152078577711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116456152078577711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/deepest-emotions.html' title='Deepest emotions'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116453587224469067</id><published>2006-11-26T12:04:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-26T12:11:13.066+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Male Drivers!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I have no idea where guys get the nerve to get up on their high horses and preach on how women can't drive. I was talking to a friend while driving home (6 October bridge is such a bore, I do most of my phone socializing while driving) and he was driving too.* The car in front of him abruptly stops and decides to drop people off completely blocking the narrow street. He starts off on women drivers and how they can't drive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My feminist gene acts up at the accusation and I rise to the challenge. Honestly look around you, you claim men can drive, YET most if not all accidents involve male drivers, drunk teens, doped truck drivers, insane microbus drivers and dead beat taxi drivers. Then you have the nerve of claiming women can't drive. I mean PLEASE, we get cut off, hit on, bulleyed out of parking spots, and its us that can't drive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I beg to differ. I think women drive just fine (at least most of them) its the stunts guys drivers pull that force us to react funny. Now if everybody drove according to the rules, we'd outdrive those guys anyday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ma 3alina.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;* Both me and my friend are very careful drivers and were using headsets to have this phone argument. Good news is nobody was hurt despite a few close calls with surrounding cars.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116453587224469067?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116453587224469067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116453587224469067&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116453587224469067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116453587224469067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/male-drivers.html' title='Male Drivers!!!'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116428056997092350</id><published>2006-11-23T12:40:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-23T13:16:10.153+02:00</updated><title type='text'>AN INVITATION!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4259/4124/320/3196/post.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;We, the members of the blog Asrar ElBanat (AeB) , are extending an invitation to ALL readers.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#660000;"&gt;AeB is all about getting that frustration with the opposite sex out in the open, so we thought we could sure use YOUR stories as well!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#660000;"&gt;ALL the members of AeB are "banat" obviously..but we welcome the views of guys..we know they're confused too ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#660000;"&gt;All you have to do is send in your stories about the opposite sex (doesnt have to be love related, could be about the traffic guy near your house!) to the blog's email&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:asrar-elbanat@googlegroups.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#660000;"&gt;asrar-elbanat@googlegroups.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#660000;"&gt; and if it's got the right mix of honesty/reality/humor, we'll post it on AeB's blog!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#660000;"&gt;So no need to waste your great stories as comments, POST THEM!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116428056997092350?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116428056997092350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116428056997092350&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116428056997092350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116428056997092350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/invitation.html' title='AN INVITATION!!!'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116420501259707857</id><published>2006-11-22T16:12:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-22T16:16:52.603+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sharing...is Caring!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/1600/share.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 403px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 136px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="160" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/400/share.jpg" width="400" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116420501259707857?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116420501259707857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116420501259707857&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116420501259707857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116420501259707857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/sharingis-caring.html' title='Sharing...is Caring!'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116419497861891508</id><published>2006-11-22T13:22:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-22T13:46:36.596+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes Love Just Aint Enough- Cont.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/1600/patty.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/320/patty.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;There's something very intriguing in being part of a blog where not all the members know each other :) (believe it or not!)&lt;br /&gt;The lyrics are so beautiful that I had to find the MP3..&lt;br /&gt;So from one anonymous member to another, here it is:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Listen whole song now!&lt;br&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.allofmp3.com/share.shtml?token=879009824&amp;lang=eng&amp;group=4099&amp;album=1&amp;song=4" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patty Smyth&lt;/strong&gt; "Patty Smyth"— Sometimes Love Just Ain`t Enough&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#ff9900;"&gt;:o)&lt;br /&gt;Everyone enjoy!It's amazing!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116419497861891508?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116419497861891508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116419497861891508&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116419497861891508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116419497861891508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/sometimes-love-just-aint-enough-cont.html' title='Sometimes Love Just Aint Enough- Cont.'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116411427676046902</id><published>2006-11-21T14:59:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T15:04:37.070+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Conversation Skills</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/1600/talk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/400/talk.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116411427676046902?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116411427676046902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116411427676046902&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116411427676046902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116411427676046902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/conversation-skills.html' title='Conversation Skills'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116411720339483596</id><published>2006-11-21T13:57:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T16:03:07.063+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes Love Just Aint Enough..a Song that Says it ALL!</title><content type='html'>Ok,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May be we have talked before about aches of love and that torn out confusion between what your "heart calls" and what your "mind says"..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;some people are jsut lucky (or shall i say determined) to make peace between their minds and hearts ...[Oh! God i love him..He makes me feel so good..never been satisified that much before] [Oh! but God there seem to be some differences that can not be conciliated! if not for this &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;itchy&lt;/span&gt; habit! or that intolerable attitude! if only he could.....! or only if he did...!]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucky them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but sometimes..and many times&lt;br /&gt;people dont choose love..with all its magical force..&lt;br /&gt;they jsut settle down with their logical vibes..&lt;br /&gt;to announce the deafeat of love&lt;br /&gt;and say "Sometimes Love aint jsut Enough".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;its a lovely song&lt;br /&gt;that i only heard accidently ..&lt;br /&gt;couldnt find its mp3 :'(&lt;br /&gt;but i thought the lyrics are as strong..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sometimes Love Just Aint Enough&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Patty Smyth&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Don Henley&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;i don't wanna lose you, I don't wanna use you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Just to have somebody by my side&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And i don't wanna hate you I don't wanna take you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But i don't wanna be the one to cry&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;That don't really matter to anyone, anymore&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But like a fool i keep losing my place&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And i keep seeing you walk through that door&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But there's a danger in loving somebody too much&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And its sad when you know its your heart you can't trust&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;There's a reason why people don't stay where they are&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Baby sometimes love just ain't enough&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Now i could never change you, I don't wanna blame you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Baby you don't have to take the fall&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Yes i may have hurt you, But i did not desert you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Maybe i just wanna have it all&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It makes a sound like thunder&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It makes me feel like rain&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And like a fool who will never see the truth&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I keep thinking something's gonna change&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But there's a danger in loving somebody too much&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And its sad when you know its your heart you can't trust&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;There's a reason why people don't stay where they are&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Baby sometimes love just ain't enough&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And there's no way home&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;When it's late at night and you're all alone&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Are there things that you wanted to say&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Do you feel me beside you in your bed&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;There beside you where i used to lay&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And there's a danger in loving somebody too much&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And it's sad when you know its your heart they can't touch.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;There's a reason why people don't stay who they are&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Cause baby sometimes love just ain't enough.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Baby sometimes love just ain't enough.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116411720339483596?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116411720339483596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116411720339483596&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116411720339483596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116411720339483596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/sometimes-love-just-aint-enougha-song.html' title='Sometimes Love Just Aint Enough..a Song that Says it ALL!'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116401776827335430</id><published>2006-11-20T12:15:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-20T12:16:08.283+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Impossible Relationship</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;What is there that is so attractive about achieving the impossible? knowledge that something can never work out or is forbidden only adds to that attraction. We fight wars we know we are destined to lose. We desire relationships and people that are so wrong for us. It is never meant to be, there are too many obstacles, yet the couple is blinded by love. Somehow all the greatest story romances have been impossible relationships. It has become such that a normal functioning relationship between compatable people is not romantic because it lacks the heartache, the struggle and the inevitable defeat. Or perhaps not too inevitable. I will grant you that some rare cases work out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My only point is sometimes you have to give in to the fact that there is a possiblity that you can loose the war you are waging in order to keep the man you love. I am not anti-love or anti-romance, but sometimes being outside a relationship provides you with the necessary clarity to be judgemental, to be the voice of reason. Maybe you are destined to be together, but if it doesn't work out, be accepting of that as well.&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/36829962-116401776827335430?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116401776827335430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116401776827335430&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116401776827335430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116401776827335430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/impossible-relationship.html' title='The Impossible Relationship'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116371218331781521</id><published>2006-11-16T23:02:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-16T23:25:48.663+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Platonic Relationships: do they exist?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;After much observation, many situations and a LOT of deliberation, I've come to the conclusion that so-called platonic relationships do not exist. According to Wikipedia "A simple example of platonic relationships is a deep, non-sexual &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Friendship" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Friendship"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;friendship&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; between two &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Heterosexuality" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heterosexuality"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;heterosexual&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; people of the opposite sexes." Yeah, right. How is it that when you find the most interesting, fun, easy to be with person (of the opposite sex) in the world you breathe a huge sigh of relief and say "Ok, you'll be my best friend while I desperately look for another interesting, fun, easy to be with guy whom I can marry." Huh?! Why NOT be with this guy? Who said you have to be just friends and nothing more, especially when everyone agrees that the best relationships are the ones that started out as friendships?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say you suddenly see the light and realize that being with your best friend forever would make a beautiful, Hollywoody transformation of your amazing freindship...but he doesn't think so! Oh yes, he says you're simply wonderful, he can't get enough of the fun you have together, you can read each other's minds and finish each other's sentences, you're the first person he calls in triumphs and crisis, and he's complimented you enough times on your looks to make you damn sure he finds you attractive. Problem is, he says you're the "best friend he's ever had", but it never occurs to him that you could be more; even though he often says that his dream girl has long black hair and a freckle on her left eyelid (which you have), loves women's wrestling (which you do) and will be the "best friend he's ever had"!!!!!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116371218331781521?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116371218331781521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116371218331781521&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116371218331781521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116371218331781521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/platonic-relationships-do-they-exist.html' title='Platonic Relationships: do they exist?!'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116361681807676501</id><published>2006-11-15T20:32:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-15T20:56:04.356+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Love test</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I know this will seem rather naive; but wouldn't be cool if there was a love detector. Kinda a portable kit (much like the pregnancy one) where by a simple over the counter bought test you could know for sure. No grey areas, no maybes, no he-loves-me-he-loves-me-nots. A simple test with clear cut answers. Red -- BINGO he loves you. Blue -- Hard luck, he just ain't that into you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Imagine how much time and energy and emotional stress that would save. No more second guessing, no more speculation, just good god-given love. Wouldn't that be the life. Where you on a third date would be able to tell that this young man or woman is THE ONE* and you should proceed with the relationship. OR this young man or woman is strictly friend material, steer clear to avoid heartbreak and disappointment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I'm gonna stop dreaming now and get back to the real world where I may or may not be in love with a young man who may or may not be in love with me. Not having any conclusive tests, I'm not quite certain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;* &lt;em&gt;the writers of this blog are painfully aware of the fact that the concept of THE ONE is highly fictional and the product of hollywood and corporate America's grand scheme of brainwashing us into buying thier products. Yet we remain hopeful that someday each of our reader's prince (or princess) will come her (his) way.&lt;/em&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/36829962-116361681807676501?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116361681807676501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116361681807676501&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116361681807676501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116361681807676501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/love-test.html' title='Love test'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116340670130677359</id><published>2006-11-13T10:05:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T10:31:41.320+02:00</updated><title type='text'>SickO Fans!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/1600/old.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/1600/soccer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/320/soccer.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;It never seizes to amuse me how men can get so emotional over a game!&lt;br /&gt;A couple of days ago El Ahly won the Africa Club Cup against it's Tunisiuan rival. To me this is a win for El Ahly &amp; for Egypt as a whole. (And even though, it's still a GAME!)&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I was forced to see it from a whole other prespective yesterday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt; I was returning from work &amp; with colleuges.. One of them, whom I dont know very well, talked NON STOP about the match!!!&lt;br /&gt;He (lets call him "sicko" for short ) was a devoted Zamalik fan. That is his choice ofcourse. But sicko was SOO worked out that El Ahly won I thought he was having a nervous break down!!&lt;br /&gt;Sicko ofcourse explained that the win was a result of luck &amp;amp; the prayers of mothers...humm...&lt;br /&gt;He then strarted praying himself all the ill wishes that could be bestowed upon the Ahly..till it reached the extent of wishing the Cairo Tower fell over the club premesis &amp; kill all members!!!&lt;br /&gt;I couldnt be quiet anymore &amp;amp; asked him how he has all this "3'ell" inside him?? Why doesnt he see it as a win for an "Egyptian" club?? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;He said if El Ahly was playing any country (even Israel) he'd support it against El Ahly!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sicko explained that he hates El Ahly more than he likes Zamalik!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;Weird beyond belief.&lt;br /&gt;How can men become so angry...all for a game?&lt;br /&gt;Is it because I'm a girl?? Or is it because I have more important things to get myself worked out about &amp;amp; guys like sicko are "airheads"???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116340670130677359?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116340670130677359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116340670130677359&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116340670130677359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116340670130677359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/sicko-fans.html' title='SickO Fans!'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116327676156623683</id><published>2006-11-11T22:18:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-11T22:39:19.940+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Interesting Forward</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;ADVICE TO BE PASSED ON TO YOUR DAUGHTERS:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't imagine you can change a man - unless he's in diapers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you do if your boyfriend walks out? You shut the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If they put a man on the moon - they should be able to put them allup there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never let your man's mind wander - it's too little to be out alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go for the younger man. You might as well, they never mature anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men are all the same - they just have different faces, so that youcan tell them apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Definition of a bachelor: a man who has missed the opportunity tomake some woman miserable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women don't make fools of men - most of them are the do-it-yourself types.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Best way to get a man to do something is to suggest he is too old for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is blind, but marriage is a real eye-opener.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want a committed man, look in a mental hospital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember a sense of humor does not mean that you tell him jokes, itmeans that you laugh at his.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116327676156623683?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116327676156623683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116327676156623683&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116327676156623683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116327676156623683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/interesting-forward.html' title='Interesting Forward'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116307375377423778</id><published>2006-11-09T13:59:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-09T14:02:33.780+02:00</updated><title type='text'>WHY DIDN'T I SEE THIS SIGN?????</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/1600/bumpy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/320/bumpy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116307375377423778?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116307375377423778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116307375377423778&amp;isPopup=true' title='34 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116307375377423778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116307375377423778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/why-didnt-i-see-this-sign.html' title='WHY DIDN&apos;T I SEE THIS SIGN?????'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>34</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116306134275862664</id><published>2006-11-09T10:34:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-09T10:38:02.406+02:00</updated><title type='text'>New Drugs for Women</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;D A M N I T O L Take 2 and the rest of the world can go to hell for up to 8 full hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ST. M O M M A'S W O R T Plant extract that treats mom's depression by rendering preschoolers unconscious for up to two days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E M P T Y N E S T R O G E N Suppository that eliminates melancholy and loneliness by reminding you of how awful they were as teenagers and how you couldn't wait till they moved out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P E P T O B I M B O Liquid silicone drink for single women. Two full cups swallowed before an evening out increases breast size, decreases intelligence, and prevents conception.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D U M B E R O L When taken with Peptobimbo, can cause dangerously low IQ, resulting in enjoyment of country music and pickup trucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;F L I P I T O R Increases life expectancy of commuters by controlling road rage and the urge to flip off other drivers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M E N I C I L L I N Potent anti-boy-otic for older women. Increases resistance to such lethal lines as, "You make me want to be a better person . Can we get naked now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUYAGRA Injectable stimulant taken prior to shopping Increases potency, duration, and credit limit of spending spree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J A C K A S S P I R I N Relieves headache caused by a man who can't remember your birthday, anniversary, phone number, or to lift the toilet seat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A N T I-T A L K S I D E N T A spray carried in a purse or wallet to be used on anyone too eager to share their life stories with total strangers in elevators.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N A G A M E N T When administered to a boyfriend or husband, provides the same irritation level as nagging him&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116306134275862664?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116306134275862664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116306134275862664&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116306134275862664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116306134275862664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/new-drugs-for-women.html' title='New Drugs for Women'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116298772016809032</id><published>2006-11-08T14:05:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-08T14:08:40.176+02:00</updated><title type='text'>They just don't understand..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/1600/explain.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 403px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 120px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="129" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/400/explain.jpg" width="400" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116298772016809032?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116298772016809032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116298772016809032&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116298772016809032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116298772016809032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/they-just-dont-understand.html' title='They just don&apos;t understand..'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116289949837023819</id><published>2006-11-07T12:40:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T13:38:26.456+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Caramels, candies and chocolates</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/1600/paroles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/320/paroles.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;A beautiful song crossed my path a few days ago.. with my compulsive urge to share..I give you :&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc9933;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Listen whole song now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.allofmp3.com/share.shtml?token=849057300&amp;lang=eng&amp;amp;group=12003&amp;album=1&amp;amp;song=20" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dalida&lt;/strong&gt; "Grand Collection"— Paroles, Paroles (Dalida Avec Alain Delon)&lt;/a&gt;  (1973)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;Now don't get me wrong, I know no french..but there is something about french songs that makes you want to get up &amp;amp; slow dance...doesn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But even apart from the song itself..the lyrics are amazing!&lt;br /&gt;I suggest you read the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.answers.com/topic/paroles-paroles"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#3333ff;"&gt;lyrics &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;(there's an english translation) while listening to the song..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;Reading the lyrics..it's an original He said / She said conversation...invinsible throughout countries/cultures/time...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;Men are so tactful in words...Women are so in need for actions..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116289949837023819?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116289949837023819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116289949837023819&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116289949837023819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116289949837023819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/caramels-candies-and-chocolates.html' title='Caramels, candies and chocolates'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116289512555408270</id><published>2006-11-07T12:23:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T12:25:25.556+02:00</updated><title type='text'>That's AMOUR</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It starts out simple enough, two individuals meet under very normal circumstances. They start talking just to discover how much they have in common. They quickly become friends, but wait, there's a spark there, could it be? It's amour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the days pass by the relationship blooms, things start to take on a more serious form. Promises are made. Then it happens, you wake up one day to realize that things are not as they seem. A harsh new reality is forced upon you. Your prince in shining armour has failed to sell the idea to his parents and is now defeated. He doesn't seem like he is trying anymore, as if he himself is shocked at his inability to defend what to him should be a life or death issue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You drift apart, its easier not to meet. You feel wounded, betrayed, confused, sad and angry. You feel almost dissapointed, angry at him for not coming through on his promises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, there is still something there. You long for what you had before. You miss him even more than you are willing to admit. Simple, everyday things remind you of him, of you as a couple. You might hate him but only because you are still in love with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A part of you realizes that you should move on. Yet another is still soft on him. You are reminiscint of the times you had together. You wish things were different and honey I wish they were. If only things were simpler.&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/36829962-116289512555408270?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116289512555408270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116289512555408270&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116289512555408270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116289512555408270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/thats-amour.html' title='That&apos;s AMOUR'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116289384129911468</id><published>2006-11-07T12:01:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T12:04:01.310+02:00</updated><title type='text'>He's just not that into you!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;In their new book, &lt;a href="http://www.oprah.com/relationships/relationships_content.jhtml?contentId=con_20040922_datingtips.xml"&gt;He's Just Not That Into You&lt;/a&gt;, Greg and Liz have written a set of new dating standards for women. They want women to raise the bar for themselves. Standard-Raising SuggestionsI will not go out with a man who:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;(a) Keeps me waiting by the phone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;(b) Is not sure he wants to date me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;(c) Makes me feel sexually undesirable&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;(d) Drinks or does drugs to an extent that makes me uncomfortable&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;(e) Fears talking about our future&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;(f) Is marriedI will not, under any circumstances, spend my precious time with a man who has already rejected me or who is not clearly a good, kind, loving person. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Liberating Vocabulary&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Friend:&lt;/strong&gt; A person who is your pal. What it generally means in relationships is he's just not that into you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Busy:&lt;/strong&gt; Busy means I'm the President of the United States. I'm an astronaut and I'm on another planet. I'm in a really successful band. What it means in relationships is, yeah, I'm just not that into you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Bad boy:&lt;/strong&gt; A bad boy is just a bad boy. Stay away. If you're dating somebody that's a bad boy, that's just your fault. If you say "my boyfriend's kind of a bad boy," I feel bad for you. If you say, "I like bad boys" well, then I don't feel bad for you. If you say, "I like things that don't work." Okay, good for you. Generally, guys with low self-esteem aren't worth the trouble. They're just not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Dog PoundQuestion&lt;/strong&gt;: So how do you screen for dogs? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Answer:&lt;/strong&gt; You just don't let him be a dog. Your standards are so high you don't let him be a dog. You can't be played if you're not playing. What I want to say that is so key for everybody to get. Nobody—even if a dog has been a dog. He has been head of the pound. Head of the dog pound. If he meets the right person, he will change his dog pound ways. He just will.&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/36829962-116289384129911468?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116289384129911468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116289384129911468&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116289384129911468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116289384129911468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/hes-just-not-that-into-you.html' title='He&apos;s just not that into you!'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116282493769730746</id><published>2006-11-06T16:42:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-06T16:55:37.963+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Once upon a time..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/1600/Glob%20effect.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/400/Glob%20effect.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;Once upon a time.. a girl was a girl...a guy was a guy.. Then suddenly one dreadful decade.. the girl started loosing her hair.. The guy started growing his.. The girl became strong and independent.. The guy became weak and needy.. She had to change to face the tough life.. But why did he change?? Wasn't he tough enough??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;Apart from appearances.. personalities of the sexes have changed..  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.answers.com/topic/chivalry"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;Chivalry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt; is dead.. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.answers.com/courtship"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;Courtship&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt; = &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.answers.com/harassment"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;Harassment&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;A girl now doesn't have that much time to be "pretty"..she has to stuggle to survive..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;What a wonderous time we live in..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116282493769730746?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116282493769730746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116282493769730746&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116282493769730746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116282493769730746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/once-upon-time.html' title='Once upon a time..'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116281014489385471</id><published>2006-11-06T12:48:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-06T12:52:50.266+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Invisibility Cloak</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;J.K. Rowling made it look like owning an invisibility cloak was a real sweet deal. She depicted it as the key to happiness and adventure. Contrary to popular belief young Potter's invisibility cloak is a mundane item. Take me for example, I'm completely invisible, no cload needed. Esteem issues you say? Hardly. Actually to the rest of humanity I'm as visible, loud and in living colour as people may come. Yet to him, I remain completely invisible, a sheer item he stares blankly through. No matter what I do, my curse of invisibility remains, me he just won't see. Perhaps some day I'll loose that power and his eyes will stop wandering to finally rest on me. Question remains, when he finally sees me, would he still be visible to me?&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/36829962-116281014489385471?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116281014489385471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116281014489385471&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116281014489385471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116281014489385471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/invisibility-cloak.html' title='Invisibility Cloak'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116280869135098665</id><published>2006-11-06T12:20:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-06T12:24:51.360+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ultimate Compliment!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/1600/burp.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/400/burp.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116280869135098665?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116280869135098665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116280869135098665&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116280869135098665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116280869135098665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/ultimate-compliment.html' title='The Ultimate Compliment!'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116273251057854163</id><published>2006-11-05T15:11:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-05T15:15:10.586+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Perception</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/1600/tbh3.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/320/tbh3.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116273251057854163?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116273251057854163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116273251057854163&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116273251057854163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116273251057854163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/perception.html' title='Perception'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116272793255656299</id><published>2006-11-05T13:51:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-05T13:58:52.563+02:00</updated><title type='text'>On being single</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Looking around at the couples around me, I'm pushed to the conclusion that perhaps we as humans were not meant to exist in the couple state. It would seem that anywhere you looked you found two people who from the outside look absolutely adorable gradually discovering that they are completely wrong for each other. This moment of clarity varies. Some discover it while dating, others months into an engagement, some even after 5 years of marriage. It would seem that people in a relationship, people fresh out of a relationship and people not in a relationship are all miserable. Can mankind ever be happy?? When you are single you yearn to be with someone, when you are with someone you feel like you want to kill them just to be rid of them, when you are rid of them you can't sleep nights and you wallow in depression. Humans are just WEIRD.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116272793255656299?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116272793255656299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116272793255656299&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116272793255656299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116272793255656299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/on-being-single.html' title='On being single'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116247015269266623</id><published>2006-11-02T13:37:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-02T14:24:17.206+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A Letter to my Man</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Dearest My Man,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It has been sometime since we had one of those intimate talks..whereby I talk out everything to you ..you hear me..you understand..we reach a comprimise ...we are satisfied..we love each other even more!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Our familiar cycle of getting closer :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Thought i would write you this time instead of face to face...since lately i noticed you have been drifted away ..and we seem to have this ugly gap getting wider!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My Love..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My Man..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;May Partner..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My Soul..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My Friend..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My Shield..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Dont you know that of all the areas i can handle...our relationship is my weakest link?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Dont you know that i strive the most to make our relationship a comfortable zone for us?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Dont you know that even if i attain the highest places in everything i do..but i feel am not on clear ground with you..then nothing..i say nothing..makes it up for me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;dont you know that when i have one of our clashes..everything seem dark to me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ask my friends (gurls)..they would tell you..how i look when i go to them or call them after a fight? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ask my tears..who come to my rescue when i feel abandoned by you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ask my eyes who refuse to sleep at nite! or my stomach who refuses any food until you and i are back again!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Darling, am so fragile around you..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Darling, i have been created from your bend rib..the one closeset to your heart..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Have you thought why?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;its because of my nature..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;closest to you heart..coz i am created for you to welcome you to my heart..to surround you with my love..take you away from your external rough world to my softest paradise..i am here for you with all my care..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;bend rib..coz i might not always say logic things..i might now always explain my self to you..my mood is like a wave ..up and down..i might not always face bravely my darkest moments and my tears might always be there..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;and if you try to straighten forcefully this rib..what happens? it gets broken! huh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;so please next time when i seem a puzzle to you..please remember the above..and try to mend me soul slowly with compassion..with your understanding..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;i dont promise that i will straighten up..for its my nature..but i promise i will try my best to make myself clear :) but at the same time..i will do what i do best..Love you with all my soul~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Yours always,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Your Gurl~ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116247015269266623?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116247015269266623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116247015269266623&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116247015269266623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116247015269266623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/letter-to-my-man.html' title='A Letter to my Man'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116246387772171636</id><published>2006-11-02T11:46:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T12:06:45.563+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The root of all evil</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I may be walking on dreaded waters here..but I believe in honesty..&amp; I believe in conversation. Meaning that in a civilized way, I will explain what's causing me dismay. And in the same way, I ask you to tell me your point of the story. This is the only way common ground can be reached. Deal?&lt;br /&gt;Ok.&lt;br /&gt;Now everyone is talking about the recent Mass Sexual Harassment incident that occured in downtown cairo during Eid. It is a shocking and horrific incident to ANY woman &amp;amp; also to men. It means that we're turning into a total anarchy. These revolting actions were targeted towards ALL women..even those accomapnied by men.&lt;br /&gt;On my way to work today I heard on the radio (Negoom FM) some people commenting on this incident &amp; on the topic of sexual harassment in the streets of cairo in general. A couple of girls sent in saying that the blame is not totally on the men, actually it is "usually" the woman's fault. OH GOOD GOD!&lt;br /&gt;Now from previous experience, which I will tell you about, I'm 90% positive such comments were by veiled girls (but not ALL veiled girls think this way). Now these girls are to be pittied, NOT cause they are veiled but cause they have fallen prey to a huge plan.&lt;br /&gt;Covering up is a "personal" decision. It is up to a girl to decide how she would like to appear infront of the society that she belongs to. But that gives that girl ZERO right to mendle with other people's rights. And if she does, then she deserves any trouble she recieves from others. Fair enough?&lt;br /&gt;Now the master plan that some girls have been tricked into is also a MAN-Made one. It is to spread through woman the idea of "You are to blame". That women are destined to have what poor men CANNOT resist. Men, bless their weak souls, have ZERO control on their sexual desires. They remain apes &amp;amp; women are REQUIRED to hide themselves in order to avoid their hungry stares/hands...etc. What a huge pile of smelly SH**!&lt;br /&gt;It is also a generalization that is not fair to alot of men, to be fair.&lt;br /&gt;Now if a women decides to fall for this plan..up to her. But if she decides to spread it...BIG MISTAKE! Cause other women, will not..shall not allow this. For me to be told that I'm the root to all eveil is like saying that food makes you thin! Women are HALF the society. They are an active part of building and managing the life we live.&lt;br /&gt;Now back to my personal experiences in the matter. During my college years more &amp; more girls got veiled. Most of them went from an extreme to another. From wearing tight, revealing clothes to wearing a 3abaya... Now this says something about the personality at hand. No moderation &amp;amp; abrupt change.. hummm.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, homma horreeeeeen. But the funny part is yet to come. I was faced ,either directly or indirectly,with HARASSMENT from several veiled GIRLS!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;Indirectly they would stick all those arabic banners in the lecture rooms or ladies rooms saying things like "El hijab abl el Hisaab"...&amp; stuff like you're not really a muslim unless you're covered...humm... Now my question here, did I ask for their advise? did someone give them the authority to give me advise? do they think covering up makes them a better muslim?&lt;br /&gt;Now as for direct actions, lets not talk about the stares they'd give (knowing that I'm a very conservative dresser) but lets talk about actual incidents. The most importent occured when some veiled &amp;amp; 3abayad girls were collecting money for good causes. They were giving bruchures to girls around them &amp; I was standing with one of my very close friends (who is velied), they approuched, gave her a bruchure &amp;amp; ignored me totally. TOTALLY! I watched them &amp; noticed that they only gave to covered girls!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;Great, if that's not discrimination then I don't know what it is.&lt;br /&gt;Ofcourse there were the incidents that I witnessed like when a friend of mine was going for 3omra, another veiled friend of others told her "Alf mabrook, w Insha2Allah keda terga3elna b lebas el mar2a el moslema, wala eih ?" &amp;amp; she patted her on the shoulder! Lebas EIH???&lt;br /&gt;Lebas????&lt;br /&gt;This is hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;If only people could mind their own business &amp;amp; know that not all they do should be done by everyone else, maybe we'd make life alot easier.&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/36829962-116246387772171636?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116246387772171636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116246387772171636&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116246387772171636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116246387772171636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/root-of-all-evil.html' title='The root of all evil'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116246107392992239</id><published>2006-11-02T11:37:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T12:05:51.506+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Weirdo Del Manno and The Womanno Frustratido</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Once upon a time in some spanish french egyptain safari park there was found weirdo del manno and womanno frustratido two new kinds of creatures that has to live togther (god knows why) after researches it was found en weirdo delmanno is just created to annoy the womanno frustratido while anesa frustratido b2a was found en she was created to be pissed off by what he does w teskot it was delmanno's mission everyday to make her sleep either confused or depressed the day he fails to do so the other weirdos delmannos would call him a wommano w mush manno 7'alis 3ashan hwa ma3rfsh yeday2 womanno frustratido after he finished annoying her which is usually when she sleeps he goes out hunting for bitcho whoro a third kind of creatures who is found past midnight and goes hang and have a good time time until wommano wakes up again wo he leaves bitcho to go annoy womanno until she sleeps agian and so on...will womanno take revenge will manno f*** off will bitcho get a life that's what we'll know tomorrow with another episode of weirdo delmanno.&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/36829962-116246107392992239?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116246107392992239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116246107392992239&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116246107392992239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116246107392992239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/weirdo-del-manno-and-womanno.html' title='Weirdo Del Manno and The Womanno Frustratido'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116237887937230599</id><published>2006-11-01T12:30:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-01T13:01:19.420+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Handle With Care</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/1600/woman.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/400/woman.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;I'm fragile;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;But I'm not made of glass;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;So don't try to see through me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;I'm small;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;But I'm no child;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;So don't decieve me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;I'm sweet; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;But I don't melt in your mouth;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;So don't use me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;I was once your rib that enclosed your heart;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;Now I'm the only way you can have a heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;I'm a woman;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"&gt;Handle with care. &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/36829962-116237887937230599?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116237887937230599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116237887937230599&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116237887937230599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116237887937230599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/handle-with-care.html' title='Handle With Care'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116237275052014276</id><published>2006-11-01T11:18:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-01T11:19:10.520+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Triangle</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/1600/mar2.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/400/mar2.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116237275052014276?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116237275052014276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116237275052014276&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116237275052014276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116237275052014276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/love-triangle.html' title='Love Triangle'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116237243556974379</id><published>2006-11-01T11:08:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-01T11:14:34.540+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Tears</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;We had been working non-stop since 8 in the morning, we were all tense, exhausted and totally consumed, when suddenly she breaks into a fit of crying. Not the stuff you get when watching a sad movie where the hero just died, I'm talking full fledged waterworks. She sobbed silently, her face went all read and she looked like she fought for every breath she took. We all gathered round her trying to figure out what's wrong, trying to comfort her. Comments like "screw the work we will take care of it, don't cry..".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Several gasps later and after ample amounts of tissue have been used up, she looked at us through the tears and said; "Its not the work, work wouldn't make me cry, &lt;strong&gt;the only thing on the planet capable of making a woman cry is a guy&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;She wouldn't say another word, we never figured out what was in that fatal e-mail or msn chat session. Yet it pains me the degree to which it is true. That to women, the only thing worth crying over is guys.. yet those ingrateful idiots never cease to make us 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/36829962-116237243556974379?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116237243556974379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116237243556974379&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116237243556974379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116237243556974379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/11/tears.html' title='Tears'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116230494537868766</id><published>2006-10-31T16:25:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-01T12:29:47.553+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Please:When Harassing, don't Discriminate!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/1600/discrimination.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/400/discrimination.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116230494537868766?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116230494537868766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116230494537868766&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116230494537868766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116230494537868766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/10/pleasewhen-harassing-dont-discriminate.html' title='Please:When Harassing, don&apos;t Discriminate!'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116230050922661737</id><published>2006-10-31T14:54:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-10-31T15:21:55.956+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Multi-Function Nail?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So if we are going to start listing some of the "disgusting" habits..men love to keep on..&lt;br /&gt;i have one that really annoys me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "long nail" syndrome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ehew!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that some men..love to keep their smallest finger nail..proudly..long? and sometimes they leave it to reach the height of its perceding finger?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHYYYYYY?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and of course, being manly enough..they leave it unclean and untrimmed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why is it that they have to keep on hand a multi function device..let it be to sractch their ears or screw an iron nail?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHYYYYYYY?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;any one knows?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116230050922661737?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116230050922661737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116230050922661737&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116230050922661737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116230050922661737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/10/multi-function-nail.html' title='Multi-Function Nail?'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116228766464130231</id><published>2006-10-31T11:39:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-10-31T11:41:43.080+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Going Downtown</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Men in Egypt have taken the phrase "Going downtown" to an entirely new level. It is customary (in light of our very very democratic state's perpetual state of emergency) for there to be Central Security (Amn Markazy) vehicles parked all around Tahrir square in order to crowd already crowded streets and to help control riots and the like (god forbid the new generation found its political voice or something). At least that's their declared purpose, but given that we don't really have riots every day they've found a new sport to entertain themselves.....US.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone working in Tahrir will totally understand, parking is a hassle and then there is the much dreaded walk to the office. I must have done something really heinous as a child because I am certainly being avenged against. I have to walk by 6 cars of Central Security Soldiers to get to my office building. I'm a conservative dresser (not that that's a criteria in their eyes) but during those cursed moments I pass by their vehicle I manage to extract all kinds of comments, whistling, cursing, passes, hit-ons and god knows what else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean COME ON. You are there for my protection!!! What have you left for the professional pervert out there???? GOOD GOD people... GET A 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/36829962-116228766464130231?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116228766464130231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116228766464130231&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116228766464130231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116228766464130231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/10/going-downtown.html' title='Going Downtown'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116228619051602047</id><published>2006-10-31T10:41:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-10-31T11:20:08.860+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Scratch-No-More</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/1600/mars.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4259/4124/400/mars.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;At last it has been reported that Men ARE from Mars &amp;amp; Women are normal!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Men who somehow think that they are "allowed" to be utterly disgusting sometimes..do just that. They scratch in areas that are obviously private (except at nudity beaches..duh)..areas that the only other males scratch publicly are monkeys! (I've seen a chimpanzy in Giza Zoo do just that while 3 kids watched..maybe they were learning how it's done!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Anyway, I don't mean to be digusting myself, but someone really has to tell Egyptian men that this jungle attitude is not aceptable.. Hey women don't do it! That means they are "scratch-less"? No. They just care enough not to digust fellow citizens. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36829962-116228619051602047?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116228619051602047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116228619051602047&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116228619051602047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116228619051602047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/10/scratch-no-more.html' title='Scratch-No-More'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36829962.post-116220525367623707</id><published>2006-10-30T12:46:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T15:03:59.660+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Who? Why? What?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Girls with varying backgrounds, religious and political orientation, adresses and ages from all over Egypt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sick and tired of being sick and tired of being WOMEN and the objectification we suffer from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our way of getting our voices heard.&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/36829962-116220525367623707?l=asrarelbanat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/feeds/116220525367623707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36829962&amp;postID=116220525367623707&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116220525367623707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36829962/posts/default/116220525367623707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asrarelbanat.blogspot.com/2006/10/who-why-what.html' title='Who? Why? What?'/><author><name>Asrar El Banat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bus11.com/assets/girls.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
