<?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-11556782</id><updated>2011-11-10T16:24:05.590+08:00</updated><category term='Cool Stuff'/><category term='About Jay'/><category term='Specials'/><category term='Our Lives'/><category term='Blog News'/><category term='Naughty'/><category term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>Jay &amp; Kay</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>263</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-2595827518941323814</id><published>2011-09-28T23:18:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T23:43:46.554+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sept 29</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Sept 29 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy anniversarry Jay, whereever you are.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-2595827518941323814?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/2595827518941323814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=2595827518941323814&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/2595827518941323814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/2595827518941323814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2011/09/sept-29.html' title='Sept 29'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-112766121171410774</id><published>2008-12-31T00:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-24T01:43:16.152+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Specials'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blog News'/><title type='text'>Welcome To Our Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Welcome To Our Story&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script language="javascript" src="http://map.geoup.com/~55150/geoup?template=storyofjayandkay"&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jay and Kay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;[Kay's note: The date of this post is brought forward in order to keep this post&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt; on top&lt;/span&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/11556782-112766121171410774?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/112766121171410774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=112766121171410774&amp;isPopup=true' title='52 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/112766121171410774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/112766121171410774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/12/welcome-to-our-story.html' title='Welcome To Our Story'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>52</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-5154799649316984807</id><published>2008-07-06T01:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T01:15:51.307+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lie To Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Lie To Me&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lie, while you’re even early&lt;br /&gt;Deny, that you’re in any hurry&lt;br /&gt;Cry, and tell me not to worry&lt;br /&gt;‘Cause what I don’t know, is never gonna hurt me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breathe, now baby don’t feel guilty&lt;br /&gt;Deceive me, then just walk away&lt;br /&gt;Leave me, the truth will only kill me&lt;br /&gt;It’s gotta be, it’s gotta be this way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more bad excuse&lt;br /&gt;Before you turn me lose&lt;br /&gt;Give me something to remember you by&lt;br /&gt;Couldn’t you offer me&lt;br /&gt;A little dishonesty&lt;br /&gt;Promise me you’ll try&lt;br /&gt;You’ll lie to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go, your plane is not gonna stay&lt;br /&gt;Slow, so I can take it in&lt;br /&gt;And so you say you’ll see me later&lt;br /&gt;When you know you won’t see me again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please before you let go of me&lt;br /&gt;Take me one more time&lt;br /&gt;Appease me, tell me that you love me&lt;br /&gt;That you haven’t gone and change your mind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more bad excuse&lt;br /&gt;Before you turn me lose&lt;br /&gt;Give me something to remember you by&lt;br /&gt;Couldn’t you offer me&lt;br /&gt;A little dishonesty&lt;br /&gt;Promise me you’ll try&lt;br /&gt;You’ll lie to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lie, while you’re even early&lt;br /&gt;Deny, that you’re in any hurry&lt;br /&gt;Cry, and tell me not to worry&lt;br /&gt;‘Cause what I don’t know, is never gonna hurt me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more bad excuse&lt;br /&gt;Before you turn me lose&lt;br /&gt;Give me something to remember you by&lt;br /&gt;Couldn’t you offer me&lt;br /&gt;A little dishonesty&lt;br /&gt;Promise me you’ll try&lt;br /&gt;You’ll lie to me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-5154799649316984807?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/5154799649316984807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=5154799649316984807&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/5154799649316984807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/5154799649316984807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2008/07/lie-to-me.html' title='Lie To Me'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-5072646375698776167</id><published>2008-06-22T21:13:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T21:19:37.949+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mew, On Loneliness</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Mew, On Loneliness&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm frighteningly lonely. It’s not easy at all, because the longer my grandma is gone, the more I miss her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have one question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we can love someone so much how will we be able to handle it the one day when we are separated? And, if being separated is a part of life, and you know about separation well, is it possible that we can love someone and never be afraid of losing them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the same time I was also wondering is it possible that, we can live our entire life without loving anyone at all? That’s my loneliness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have lived with it now for 5 years, I know just how bad loneliness feels. I fear it wil continue to get worse.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-5072646375698776167?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/5072646375698776167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=5072646375698776167&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/5072646375698776167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/5072646375698776167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2008/06/mew-on-loneliness.html' title='Mew, On Loneliness'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-261449063171151325</id><published>2008-06-22T00:18:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T00:44:02.234+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Will You Hold My Hands If I Hold It Up For You</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Will You Hold My Hands If I Hold It Up For You&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I told you that this song was meant for you, would you believe me?&lt;br /&gt;It may not sound as beautiful as other songs&lt;br /&gt;You may not know that love songs couldn’t be written out&lt;br /&gt;If we didn’t have the feelings of love&lt;br /&gt;But for you sweetheart, it all came out easily&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may heard thousands of love ballads&lt;br /&gt;Some may touch your heart,&lt;br /&gt;Though they mean nothing more&lt;br /&gt;But you’ll know when you listen to this song&lt;br /&gt;It was  meant just for you&lt;br /&gt;You would know by heart what I meant&lt;br /&gt;And we would be there for each other&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let the song play while we are walking together on the path,&lt;br /&gt;All I hear is just the voice of you and me&lt;br /&gt;We'll be together for so long&lt;br /&gt;As mentioned in the poetry&lt;br /&gt;That where there is love, there is always hope&lt;br /&gt;Your love has lightened up my heart&lt;br /&gt;You are my destiny&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love holds up many truths to look for&lt;br /&gt;And I have wasted my lifetime searching for them&lt;br /&gt;But not so long ago, I realized when I am close to you&lt;br /&gt;If my life is a rhythm&lt;br /&gt;You're the beautiful lyrics to this song that has touched my heart&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-261449063171151325?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/261449063171151325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=261449063171151325&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/261449063171151325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/261449063171151325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2008/06/will-you-hold-my-hands-if-i-hold-it-up.html' title='Will You Hold My Hands If I Hold It Up For You'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-1154944411084348413</id><published>2008-06-11T15:09:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T15:15:36.507+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Monochrome</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Monochrome&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dilemma aside, ever wondered that turning images into black and white, plus adjusting its contrast, could make photos look so good?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/SE96_lZ9G9I/AAAAAAAAANg/286wmkB1ZZg/s1600-h/koutinthesun.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210518526682274770" style="WIDTH: 309px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 83px" height="107" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/SE96_lZ9G9I/AAAAAAAAANg/286wmkB1ZZg/s320/koutinthesun.jpg" width="337" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-1154944411084348413?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/1154944411084348413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=1154944411084348413&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/1154944411084348413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/1154944411084348413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2008/06/monochrome.html' title='Monochrome'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/SE96_lZ9G9I/AAAAAAAAANg/286wmkB1ZZg/s72-c/koutinthesun.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-8254344784689235329</id><published>2008-06-10T15:11:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T15:24:05.742+08:00</updated><title type='text'>To Bare Or Not To Bare</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;To Bare Or Not To Bare&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/SE4pzThDzhI/AAAAAAAAANQ/IzMGVlRueW8/s1600-h/nakedad1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210147780303244818" style="WIDTH: 187px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px" height="281" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/SE4pzThDzhI/AAAAAAAAANQ/IzMGVlRueW8/s320/nakedad1.jpg" width="192" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/SE4pzo_op4I/AAAAAAAAANY/qbfuZl_UT-U/s1600-h/nakedad3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210147786068633474" style="WIDTH: 194px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 242px" height="221" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/SE4pzo_op4I/AAAAAAAAANY/qbfuZl_UT-U/s320/nakedad3.jpg" width="165" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would you do if you're being approached and offered to model for an ad? Do you contemplate on the near nudity part or just go ahead with the big paycheck agreed on?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there a moral dilemma here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/SE4pyzySSFI/AAAAAAAAANI/MeOIhafHLyY/s1600-h/nakedad.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210147771785562194" style="WIDTH: 172px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px" height="241" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/SE4pyzySSFI/AAAAAAAAANI/MeOIhafHLyY/s320/nakedad.jpg" width="167" 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/11556782-8254344784689235329?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/8254344784689235329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=8254344784689235329&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/8254344784689235329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/8254344784689235329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2008/06/to-bare-or-not-to-bare.html' title='To Bare Or Not To Bare'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/SE4pzThDzhI/AAAAAAAAANQ/IzMGVlRueW8/s72-c/nakedad1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-6032109273916069460</id><published>2008-05-27T00:56:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T01:09:36.947+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>After So Long</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;After So Long&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/SDruspg5vRI/AAAAAAAAANA/T4rBLFe3jkw/s1600-h/movinghome.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204734770205539602" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/SDruspg5vRI/AAAAAAAAANA/T4rBLFe3jkw/s320/movinghome.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally his apartment is ready and I offered help to help him move into his new abode. Along with his brother we traveled about 5 times to and fro from his old room to the new place just to transfer all his stuff. (He has more pairs of shoes than my mum and sis both added up!) It was pleasant spending the afternoon with him, more so when his brother left in the evening, leaving just us two trying to figure out how to assemble some pieces of furniture we bought earlier. There were teases here and there as we talked and joked but at times there are moments which were very silent. I wished I could just pour my heart out but I held back. I wished I could hug him but I feared that he wouldn't want to hug back. I could also sense that he was checking me out head to toe when I wasn't looking, probably as much as I realised he is way hotter now. Ah, the sexual tension. We cleaned and sorted the place in the evening until I got a call which left me no choice but to leave. I told him I needed to go and he instantly offered to walk me out to my car but my stupid brain decided to think otherwise and told my mouth to utter words that rejected his offer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'It's okay. I can go down myself. See you again.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that was it. I wanted to give him a hug but before I had the guts to do so, the elevator's door opened, I walked into it, saw him turn his back and walked away as the elevator's door closes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-6032109273916069460?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/6032109273916069460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=6032109273916069460&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/6032109273916069460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/6032109273916069460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2008/05/after-so-long.html' title='After So Long'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/SDruspg5vRI/AAAAAAAAANA/T4rBLFe3jkw/s72-c/movinghome.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-4060562603106826069</id><published>2008-04-26T19:54:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-26T20:34:07.554+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>I Love You Too</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;I Love You Too&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friendship is supposed to grow stronger, last longer. Barely only 3 months after an accident, he is called to go home. I wished I could have known him better and should have kept in touch with him these last few days but my work tied me down so I only spoke to him just 2 days before he passed away. I regret and hate myself for not knowing my priorities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His sister passed me a personal note written by him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;**********&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi sweetie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you read this it’s because I’m in heaven.  Yes, in heaven, because I know I will go there and I’ll meet you there one day, in many, many years, because you are going to live a very long and happy life before you come and meet me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m so happy to have met you and I promise that I will take care of you from heaven.  I will pray for you and I will look after you from there.  I promise that.  I haven’t seen or touched you physically in this world but I will in heaven.  And will party surrounded by glory!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please, live happily because I don’t like sadness.  Sadness is for those who lose hope and we have to bear in mind that this life is full of wonderful events and hope.  And full of great people like you!  Always remember you are unique: the only human being like you that exists and without which this world would be totally different.  You’re a masterpiece.  We all are.  God’s rare and fragile masterpieces!  Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your love, your support and your patience with me throughout these past months.  I learned to cherish and love you.  I learned to observe and to dwell in peace.  I learned that one must live every instant as if it were the last one and to give out as much love to others as one can.  Make your heart a home for every loving thought, as you have done with me.   I will always bless you.  Whatever you do, do it with love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t cry, don’t be sad.  I’m going to a place, I’m sure, where Spring is always bright, breezy and warm and where love will always surround me.  I’m prepared.  I’ve told my mom, my sisters and friends like you that I take nothing with me but love.  I’m so full of happiness and gratitude.  I feel so warm inside my heart.  I’ll be there for you always.  When you look up to heaven I’ll be the brightest star for you and I’ll shine to make you smile, to always comfort you, to always remind you we’re not alone.  God dwells right inside us, warming our souls with His light and helping us to grow, to live, to love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ll see you there.  I’ll be right inside your heart as you are right inside mine.  I won’t say good-bye, I’ll just say “See you” in around 100 years!  And when you come I’ll lead you so you won’t get lost!   I want you to live happy, full of love and full of blessing.  You are part of that marvelous landscape that I’ll carry with me throughout eternity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P xoxoxoxoxo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;**********&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-4060562603106826069?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/4060562603106826069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=4060562603106826069&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/4060562603106826069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/4060562603106826069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-love-you-too.html' title='I Love You Too'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-2801105456195800237</id><published>2008-04-06T20:36:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T20:39:57.418+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cool Stuff'/><title type='text'>How Not to Cheat On One's Partner</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How Not to Cheat On One's Partner&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/R_jEVlhgTJI/AAAAAAAAAM4/vAziMsOgFY8/s1600-h/embrace.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186110846046063762" style="WIDTH: 247px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 176px" height="161" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/R_jEVlhgTJI/AAAAAAAAAM4/vAziMsOgFY8/s320/embrace.jpg" width="247" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it comes to resisting sexual temptation and remaining faithful to your partner, The Beatles got it right: All you need is love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Numerous studies have shown that humans are not especially self-restrained when it comes to gratification. We prefer to indulge in pleasure when opportunity arises.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when it comes to love and lust, this otherwise reliable human trait – 'get it while you can' – leads to a paradox: Why do people in stable relationships so often pass up the chance for a little sexual gratification on the side, even if they can get away with it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To find out, psychologists led by Gian Gonzaga at the University of California in Los Angeles set up a test using 60 heterosexual undergraduates. These test subjects had been in relationships for at least three years, and were instructed to ogle a photograph of a hot babe or hunk of the opposite sex that they found especially attractive, taken from a popular dating site.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After writing a short essay on what they found alluring about the person in the picture, Gonzaga then divided his guinea pigs into three groups.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first was asked to write about the moment when they had felt the strongest feeling of love for their current partner, while the second group had to recall their most memorable and intense sexual encounter. The third group had the freedom to write about whatever came to mind.&lt;br /&gt;All the students were instructed, while writing, not to think about the good-looking guy or girl in the photo. But every time the tempter did pop into their minds while scribbling, the students had to tick a box.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The group that focused on love, rather than lust, strayed in thoughts three times less than the group asked to describe the most memorable sexual encounter with their long-term partner.&lt;br /&gt;Those given free rein with a pen apparently couldn't keep their minds off the sexy photos, and ticked the box six times more than the "love" group.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Feeling love for your romantic partner appears to make everybody else less attractive.&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/11556782-2801105456195800237?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/2801105456195800237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=2801105456195800237&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/2801105456195800237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/2801105456195800237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2008/04/how-not-to-cheat-on-ones-partner.html' title='How Not to Cheat On One&apos;s Partner'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/R_jEVlhgTJI/AAAAAAAAAM4/vAziMsOgFY8/s72-c/embrace.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-3420585201001665247</id><published>2008-03-09T18:07:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T18:12:55.324+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>The Nights Are Lonely</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;The Nights Are Lonely&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm lying alone with my head on the phone, thinking of you till it hurts.  But what else can we do? Tormented and torn apart, I wish I could carry your smile and my heart. For times when my life feels so low I want to believe what tomorrow could bring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does the feeling seem right? And what would you say if I called on you now and say that I can't hold on?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's no easy way, it gets harder each day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-3420585201001665247?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/3420585201001665247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=3420585201001665247&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/3420585201001665247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/3420585201001665247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2008/03/nights-are-lonely.html' title='The Nights Are Lonely'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-7320452467949987723</id><published>2008-03-02T21:57:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T22:02:12.559+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Naughty'/><title type='text'>Random Found In PC</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Random Found In PC&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Housekeeping once a while to clear out old files and folders in the pc does come with surprises in return!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/R8qzHUSFS4I/AAAAAAAAAMw/D9fp-rMn1lA/s1600-h/kpecss.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173144060273445762" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/R8qzHUSFS4I/AAAAAAAAAMw/D9fp-rMn1lA/s320/kpecss.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;       &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/R8qy4kSFS3I/AAAAAAAAAMo/xTb72OgP9E8/s1600-h/kasss.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173143806870375282" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/R8qy4kSFS3I/AAAAAAAAAMo/xTb72OgP9E8/s320/kasss.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-7320452467949987723?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/7320452467949987723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=7320452467949987723&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/7320452467949987723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/7320452467949987723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2008/03/random-found-in-pc.html' title='Random Found In PC'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/R8qzHUSFS4I/AAAAAAAAAMw/D9fp-rMn1lA/s72-c/kpecss.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-7810652787989596351</id><published>2008-02-26T21:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T21:57:24.278+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>Not About Six Inches</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Not About Six Inches&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waiting everyday for you to just apologise and tell me things are going to change, you just call to say hi, then bye, and pretend nothing has happened. To tell me you're missing me is just not enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't want to talk about it. Sorry. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How long more?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-7810652787989596351?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/7810652787989596351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=7810652787989596351&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/7810652787989596351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/7810652787989596351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2008/03/not-about-six-inches.html' title='Not About Six Inches'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-2168484463074264377</id><published>2008-02-15T20:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-24T21:03:36.843+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>I Still Remember Last Night</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;I Still Remember Last Night&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Totally unexpected, that was the case of yesterday. Close to midnight, he called and told me he's waiting for me outside the house. Simple gesture like this really surprises me. We went out for what was supposed to be a drive to the local mart to get drinks. And then he brought out a bar of Kit Kat chocolate, a box of KFC popcorn chicken and cheesy wedges and more chocolates. Packaging was all red to celebrate the occasion, you see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little thirsty, I suggested that we go to get something to drink and he took out a bottled green tea from the back seats of the car. We talked and laughed and spoke about our plans for the coming 2 months. Time is limited and we know the end isn't gonna be happy. But we agree to let's just savour the time left. Soft, wet kisses filled the night and I didn't want to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I imagining? A scene from tv?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-2168484463074264377?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/2168484463074264377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=2168484463074264377&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/2168484463074264377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/2168484463074264377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-still-remember-last-night.html' title='I Still Remember Last Night'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-2376735992419601442</id><published>2008-01-25T16:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-26T17:09:56.491+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>At 4am</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;At 4am&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/R5r4wJk7W_I/AAAAAAAAAMg/2M5OiiQnoLU/s1600-h/kfear.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159709829194537970" style="CURSOR: hand" height="239" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/R5r4wJk7W_I/AAAAAAAAAMg/2M5OiiQnoLU/s320/kfear.jpg" width="193" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First we argued a lot. Almost everytime we speak there is disagreement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he packed and left me for another man. He wouldn't listen. He wouldn't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These dreams woke me up at wee hours in the morning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-2376735992419601442?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/2376735992419601442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=2376735992419601442&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/2376735992419601442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/2376735992419601442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2008/01/at-4am.html' title='At 4am'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/R5r4wJk7W_I/AAAAAAAAAMg/2M5OiiQnoLU/s72-c/kfear.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-9147855879265364435</id><published>2008-01-11T00:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-11T00:21:02.261+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>Go Slower On The Phone Next Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Go Slower On The Phone Next Time&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An explicit message intended for Jay was wrongly sent to another guy whom I've not spoken to for a long time. Though he's gay he doesn't know that I'm not straight either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is so embarassing. I didn't have the guts to call him to apologize but just text him to explain that it's not intended for him. Technology these days are so fast that by the time I pressed Cancel the message has already been sent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-9147855879265364435?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/9147855879265364435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=9147855879265364435&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/9147855879265364435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/9147855879265364435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2008/01/go-slower-on-phone-next-time.html' title='Go Slower On The Phone Next Time'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-5592560378870615762</id><published>2008-01-06T23:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-07T01:44:49.857+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>You Are Almost Out!</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;You Are Almost Out!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We need to type a document and it's urgent. The other username can't be used.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad called me on the phone the other night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have a common pc in the household and because my parents rarely use it so the pc only has two users- one is mine and another for my sibling. Everytime my mom or dad wants to use the pc, they wouldn't login via my username because it's password protected. So when I got a call that night I was rather shocked. I was out and couldn't do much but to oblige and give him my password.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'Are you sure the internet connection is on? Or else...&lt;/em&gt;' I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'We don't need to be online. Just want to type a document.&lt;/em&gt;' Dad interjected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ok. The password is ilovejay.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a silence and then we said bye on the phone. I didn't go back until another 2 more hours and I was panicking almost all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What applicatiions did I open? What photos I have on my desktop? What if a guy pops a message from windows messenger asking for a fuck? (ok, the last one is unlikely to happen, but still)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got home, quickly logged on to my desktop and found that everything was alright, except for a document titled '2004 Resolutions' opened together with the document my mom typed.&lt;br /&gt;She later asked me to print out the document for her as the printer wasn't connected that time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, 2004 Resolutions is a list of resolutions Jay and I made years back and amongst the listed items, sex was mentioned a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A good way to start the new year, eh? I might sound easy writing this but trust me, the moment really came for me to think what if I'm forced to spill the beans?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. I know of a 7yo niece who uses secret password like ilovejustin to allow people to enter her room, ok!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-5592560378870615762?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/5592560378870615762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=5592560378870615762&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/5592560378870615762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/5592560378870615762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2008/01/you-are-almost-out.html' title='You Are Almost Out!'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-5770266117283511545</id><published>2007-12-24T01:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-24T01:39:41.894+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Naughty'/><title type='text'>A Quick One</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/R26cpcT6mII/AAAAAAAAAMQ/M9X7OeWLP6I/s1600-h/sokajnewyrgreet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147223659919349890" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/R26cpcT6mII/AAAAAAAAAMQ/M9X7OeWLP6I/s400/sokajnewyrgreet.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/11556782-5770266117283511545?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/5770266117283511545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=5770266117283511545&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/5770266117283511545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/5770266117283511545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/12/quick-one.html' title='A Quick One'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/R26cpcT6mII/AAAAAAAAAMQ/M9X7OeWLP6I/s72-c/sokajnewyrgreet.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-2389564943923129731</id><published>2007-11-27T23:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T23:42:54.856+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>SOKAJ Will Be On A Break</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;SOKAJ Will Be On A Break&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going on a (long) break till the holidays are over. In need of a vacation... I'm feeling tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep in touch peeps.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-2389564943923129731?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/2389564943923129731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=2389564943923129731&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/2389564943923129731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/2389564943923129731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/11/sokaj-will-be-on-break.html' title='SOKAJ Will Be On A Break'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-8051803517159876851</id><published>2007-11-25T02:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T02:25:35.716+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Jay'/><title type='text'>Wishing You A Happy Birthday Jay</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Wishing You A Happy Birthday Jay&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/R0hrNxtD1JI/AAAAAAAAAMA/h8jqDgkczws/s1600-h/bdayballoon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136473259440854162" style="WIDTH: 187px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 173px" height="208" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/R0hrNxtD1JI/AAAAAAAAAMA/h8jqDgkczws/s320/bdayballoon.jpg" width="178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I make you happy today?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-8051803517159876851?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/8051803517159876851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=8051803517159876851&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/8051803517159876851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/8051803517159876851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/11/wishing-you-happy-birthday-jay.html' title='Wishing You A Happy Birthday Jay'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/R0hrNxtD1JI/AAAAAAAAAMA/h8jqDgkczws/s72-c/bdayballoon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-8455074342110059069</id><published>2007-11-24T01:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T02:10:17.536+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>Read This Please!</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Read This Please!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Excerpts from a Gay &amp;amp; Lesbian Dating &amp;amp; Personals site on things that made men realize their relationship was moving in the right direction:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He introduced me to his friends&lt;br /&gt;“I am seeing a guy who is a waiter. Before we got together, he dated a guy he worked with. Their breakup was not only rough because it was a workplace romance, but also because all the people who worked at the restaurant were friends. In fact, they were trying to convince them to get back together! It took a while for him to introduce me to his restaurant friends because he feared everyone being involved in his love life again. When he finally did I knew he was making a big statement: He had moved on and his friends had to forget getting him back together with his ex.”– Sean, 27&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He took care of my most prized possessions&lt;br /&gt;“While I love my two cats, my boyfriend hates them. One weekend I had to travel home to tend to a family emergency and he offered to take care of them without my even asking. I know any good friend — or lover — should offer to do something like that, but knowing how much he really couldn’t stand my cats made a real statement about how much he cared for me.” – Will, 34&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn’t pass any judgments&lt;br /&gt;“My boyfriend Peter is from a very wealthy, old-money family. I, on the other hand, grew up working-class. I put off bringing him home to meet my family for a long time, but after he begged and begged to meet them, I finally had to relent. I thought he’d be mortified when he saw my parents’ shack and sat down to the meal of Stove-Top stuffing and pre-cooked ham, but he was just as gracious and into it as if he’d been served beef Wellington on a silver platter. All that was important to him was getting to know my family and seeing where I grew up.”– Dan, 30&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He made his home feel like mine&lt;br /&gt;“I am addicted to watching my favorite television programs, but my boyfriend couldn’t care less about TV—he didn’t even own one! When we first started dating, we were spending virtually every night together, usually at his place. One evening we went to his house, and I noticed a brand-new television in his living room with a big bow on top. He told me that he bought it for me because he wanted me to feel like his home was like my own. In my heart, that move really won me over.”– Christian, 33&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He stepped out of his comfort zone&lt;br /&gt;“When my boyfriend Tom and I began dating, I was always trying to get him to go dancing with me, but he’s much more of a sports bar kind of a guy, so he was never into it. One day after we’d been together for a few months, Tom said, ‘You know what? I think we need to go dancing.’ It may not seem like a huge deal—especially for a gay man, but for him to suggest that, I knew it meant he was interested in stepping out of his comfort zone and into mine just to make me happy.”– Dean, 28&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your story, I wonder?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-8455074342110059069?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/8455074342110059069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=8455074342110059069&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/8455074342110059069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/8455074342110059069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/11/read-this-please.html' title='Read This Please!'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-1862209070566209349</id><published>2007-11-17T00:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T00:45:36.792+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cool Stuff'/><title type='text'>'My Job Is To Get All Artists In This Country To Sleep With Each Other'</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;'My Job Is To Get All Artists In This Country To Sleep With Each Other'&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pang Khee Teik the hottie, who has always been passionate about arts, was associated with Kakiseni and now involved in arts programme at Central Market Annexe. I first spotted him in a little column in a magazine some time ago in 2005. I remember I blogged about him too. Two months back, he's a recipient to KLue's 20 under 40 award, for 20 people under the age 40 who has greatly influence the arts in the community. Few days ago I read his interview in The Sun. He's going places!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to find out more about him on Wikipedia... no results yet but a simple search on Facebook revealed him. Again, the wonders of internet. If I'm lucky I'll get to hear from him again soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-1862209070566209349?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/1862209070566209349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=1862209070566209349&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/1862209070566209349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/1862209070566209349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/11/my-job-is-to-get-all-artists-in-this.html' title='&apos;My Job Is To Get All Artists In This Country To Sleep With Each Other&apos;'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-4664188551774586581</id><published>2007-10-09T23:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T23:21:57.897+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>The Ugly Side Never Before Seen</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;The Ugly Side Never Before Seen&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwuadApBVGI/AAAAAAAAALY/WkyNSC4Byes/s1600-h/arghhhbitch.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5119355224615638114" style="WIDTH: 235px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px" height="181" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwuadApBVGI/AAAAAAAAALY/WkyNSC4Byes/s320/arghhhbitch.jpg" width="191" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was shocked. This is the story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I needed to get some batteries for my week-long camping trip and he needed some chips for the movie that night, so we headed over to the nearby mart to get our stuff. On the way out, Jay noticed a fastlane counter for only buyers with 5 items or less. He went straight to the counter to pay but I stopped by the grooming aisle to get myself a bottle of a shampoo. He was next in line to pay for his 4 packets of chips so he quickly signaled to me to rush over to the line. When I reached the line, there was already a woman in front of me. I chose to stay behind her in the line and wait for my turn but Jay insisted that I join him in the line. Again, I refused because I didn't find it appropriate to just cut her queue. Furthermore all our items combined would total 6. I told him I won't mind waiting- come on, the woman only had like 2 items with her! But then Jay began to insist that I join him so we could pay up and leave quick. I gave in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woman: Hey, you can't just cut the line.&lt;br /&gt;Kay: Sorry, I just wanna pass these for him to pay together.&lt;br /&gt;Woman: But you now have more than 5 items. This is an express lane.&lt;br /&gt;Jay: Hey, no need to argue ok?&lt;br /&gt;Woman: You're not following the rules.&lt;br /&gt;Jay: Shut up idiot!&lt;br /&gt;Woman: You know you're wrong doing this. I'm not an idiot.&lt;br /&gt;Jay: So let it be ok? Don't complain.&lt;br /&gt;Woman: I'm complaining because you have more than 5 items with you.&lt;br /&gt;Jay: I don't care. Just let me pay and leave, idiot!&lt;br /&gt;Woman to cashier: Are you gonna just let him do this?&lt;br /&gt;Jay: Hey, don't involve her. This is just me and not her fault.&lt;br /&gt;Woman: Then later I''ll complain to the management. She just let you in like that knowing that you have more than 5 items.&lt;br /&gt;Jay: This has nothing to do with her. Just let me pay and go, bitch.&lt;br /&gt;Woman to other two behind her: Then this lane serves no purpose. You might as well grab a few more items to buy and pay here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What ensued was another few minutes of argument and name calling between Jay and the woman. I remembered only speaking once and apologizing to her when I went to join Jay in the queue and then got stuck standing between them and their verbal disagreement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew that what he did wasn't right but I just stood there not doing anything. Totally against my principle. I felt ashamed, of myself and him of course. We finally paid our stuff, to my relief as I really wanted to leave the place quickly. When it got to the woman's turn, she was still complaining to the cashier. I walked away so fast I didn't know what happen after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got into the car. I remained silent throughout the ride back. Shocked and speechless. How could the person I love so much can have so much anger in him? When we reached home he took my hands and held it tight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put the incident behind and smiled at him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-4664188551774586581?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/4664188551774586581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=4664188551774586581&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/4664188551774586581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/4664188551774586581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/10/ugly-side-never-before-seen.html' title='The Ugly Side Never Before Seen'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwuadApBVGI/AAAAAAAAALY/WkyNSC4Byes/s72-c/arghhhbitch.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-3675495091238254114</id><published>2007-10-07T13:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T13:46:43.548+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Naughty'/><title type='text'>Sexy Injured Leg of the Month</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Sexy Injured Leg of the Month&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwhxqApBVFI/AAAAAAAAALQ/JoMuSbJ6CJE/s1600-h/Picture(185).jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5118465943047066706" style="CURSOR: hand" height="180" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwhxqApBVFI/AAAAAAAAALQ/JoMuSbJ6CJE/s320/Picture(185).jpg" width="244" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A clumsy fall. An immediate sprain. Walking in a wrap like this sure grabs the attention, especially in the changing room. Eyes move from the bulge in the crotch down to the white bandage at the ankle. Sexy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-3675495091238254114?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/3675495091238254114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=3675495091238254114&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/3675495091238254114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/3675495091238254114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/10/sexy-injured-leg-of-month.html' title='Sexy Injured Leg of the Month'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwhxqApBVFI/AAAAAAAAALQ/JoMuSbJ6CJE/s72-c/Picture(185).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-9189496591287800189</id><published>2007-10-02T23:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T23:54:09.985+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>Sex Survey</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sex Survey&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Findings from a recent global sex survey by Durex: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwTrNfI1UkI/AAAAAAAAAKg/YHBMOYO-os4/s1600-h/cokrub.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5117473693529100866" style="WIDTH: 210px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 206px" height="241" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwTrNfI1UkI/AAAAAAAAAKg/YHBMOYO-os4/s320/cokrub.jpg" width="251" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Four in five Malaysians have sex on a weekly basis and 35% actually do it three times or more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm not having enough!&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwTrnvI1UlI/AAAAAAAAAKo/tLxizD4c_XU/s1600-h/joonsofa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5117474144500666962" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwTrnvI1UlI/AAAAAAAAAKo/tLxizD4c_XU/s320/joonsofa.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More than half (54%) of the respondents actually want to have sex more often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;True. True.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;Totally agree.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwUDivI1UpI/AAAAAAAAALI/wHIJj9iPRoM/s1600-h/whisper.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5117500446880387730" style="WIDTH: 233px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 177px" height="195" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwUDivI1UpI/AAAAAAAAALI/wHIJj9iPRoM/s320/whisper.jpg" width="217" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As many as 31% still felt uncomfortable telling their partners what they want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm in the remaining 69%. No inhibitions.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwT_tvI1UmI/AAAAAAAAAKw/ATiGUGSzXco/s1600-h/nakedmassage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5117496237812437602" style="WIDTH: 184px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 106px" height="94" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwT_tvI1UmI/AAAAAAAAAKw/ATiGUGSzXco/s320/nakedmassage.jpg" width="169" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A relaxing massage was important to two thirds (67%) of Malaysians while 45% confess to having a thing for wearing sexy underwear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A massage in sexy underwear first before moving on to a naked body rub!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwT_6fI1UnI/AAAAAAAAAK4/fny-18U_Wuo/s1600-h/lfcuk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5117496456855769714" style="CURSOR: hand" height="153" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwT_6fI1UnI/AAAAAAAAAK4/fny-18U_Wuo/s320/lfcuk.jpg" width="223" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When asked what would improve their love lives, Malaysians rated “more romance” (74%) as their top pick, followed by better communication with their partner (66%) and more fun (64%).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Add other places for sex other than bedroom.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwUATPI1UoI/AAAAAAAAALA/Om2_hDst9GI/s1600-h/mirrofcuk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5117496882057532034" style="WIDTH: 223px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 141px" height="129" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwUATPI1UoI/AAAAAAAAALA/Om2_hDst9GI/s320/mirrofcuk.jpg" width="211" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;62% of Malaysians expect their partners to become more experimental in their love lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Like they always say - Open to experimentation.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwTqnvI1UjI/AAAAAAAAAKY/Ndy7KNGxob0/s1600-h/5some.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5117473044989039154" style="WIDTH: 282px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 110px" height="142" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwTqnvI1UjI/AAAAAAAAAKY/Ndy7KNGxob0/s320/5some.jpg" width="320" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heheh. Reading about sex gets me excited easily.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-9189496591287800189?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/9189496591287800189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=9189496591287800189&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/9189496591287800189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/9189496591287800189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/10/sex-survey.html' title='Sex Survey'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RwTrNfI1UkI/AAAAAAAAAKg/YHBMOYO-os4/s72-c/cokrub.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-7958287281693819936</id><published>2007-10-01T00:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T00:52:28.997+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Jay'/><title type='text'>What If Someone's Peeping When We're Plowing?</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;What If Someone's Peeping When We're Plowing?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just back from the police station with Jay. Yes, we went to make a police report on the loss of his electronic gadget which was lying on his bed. Yeah, previously &lt;a href="http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2005/10/nagger-airhead.html"&gt;he lost his wallet &lt;/a&gt;almost the same way too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's pretty scary considering he lives on the second floor and yet the thief still managed to climb up and stick his hand through the window grille and steal right pass Jay, who was obviously fast asleep on the bed like a pig. More like a naked pig I think. Very likely too the thief saw him in full glory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, back to serious issue. It's not safe now to sleep in his room knowing that someone could just be outside the window. I asked him to close the windows when he sleeps now. If not, at least draw the curtains in. And of course- all expensive things AWAY from the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to sleep with him.&lt;a href="http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2005/10/nagger-airhead.html"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-7958287281693819936?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/7958287281693819936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=7958287281693819936&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/7958287281693819936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/7958287281693819936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/10/what-if-someones-peeping-when-were.html' title='What If Someone&apos;s Peeping When We&apos;re Plowing?'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-4844445241772063984</id><published>2007-09-29T23:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T01:19:58.399+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>Our Special Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Our Special Day&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/Rv_apvI1UiI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/eIdg3woNnMQ/s1600-h/rejoicinganniversary.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116048112279179810" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/Rv_apvI1UiI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/eIdg3woNnMQ/s320/rejoicinganniversary.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing too fantastic. Just spent a day together, doing what we would usually do on a normal Saturday. I attended his performance and boy, he's awesome on stage. A year since his first debut and so much has improved! A quickie before our gym. I particularly enjoyed our workout for it's been a long time we did weights together. Then he bought us dinner and I bought us tickets to a B-grade horror movie about lambs turning carnivorous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All things nice but he forgot one thing. Towards the end of the day I had to send him a message to remind him to wish me a happy anniversary. &lt;em&gt;Sigh&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just like having a birthday cake and party and presents and all but no happy birthday wishes. Silly boy!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-4844445241772063984?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/4844445241772063984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=4844445241772063984&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/4844445241772063984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/4844445241772063984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/10/our-special-day.html' title='Our Special Day'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/Rv_apvI1UiI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/eIdg3woNnMQ/s72-c/rejoicinganniversary.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-7070871775781018789</id><published>2007-09-23T23:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T00:19:53.206+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Jay'/><title type='text'>More Decent Pics!</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;More Decent Pics!&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Whenever I go away for trips that are not together with Jay, I like to give him a brief insight of my trip through pictures via the phone. During one of his recent trip back to his hometown which I couldn't follow, he surprised me with what I usually would send him- picture messages!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RvaNXvI1UhI/AAAAAAAAAKI/aTKzjBAx2fo/s1600-h/DSC00291.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113429865855799826" style="CURSOR: hand" height="166" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RvaNXvI1UhI/AAAAAAAAAKI/aTKzjBAx2fo/s320/DSC00291.jpg" width="257" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hilton at river front&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RvaMBfI1UfI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/8q53oYiLi6I/s1600-h/DSC00293.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113428384092082674" style="CURSOR: hand" height="182" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RvaMBfI1UfI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/8q53oYiLi6I/s320/DSC00293.jpg" width="255" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Chinese history museum&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RvaLYfI1UZI/AAAAAAAAAJI/e9RiRkR5CX4/s1600-h/DSC00275.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113427679717446034" style="CURSOR: hand" height="180" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RvaLYfI1UZI/AAAAAAAAAJI/e9RiRkR5CX4/s320/DSC00275.jpg" width="255" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;State river&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RvaLwPI1UcI/AAAAAAAAAJg/wiO3xNRj3R4/s1600-h/DSC00286.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113428087739339202" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RvaLwPI1UcI/AAAAAAAAAJg/wiO3xNRj3R4/s320/DSC00286.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;An old building along the street &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RvaLrfI1UbI/AAAAAAAAAJY/kWLygbEk4kI/s1600-h/DSC00282.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113428006134960562" style="CURSOR: hand" height="198" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RvaLrfI1UbI/AAAAAAAAAJY/kWLygbEk4kI/s320/DSC00282.jpg" width="256" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;State craft council&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RvaLfvI1UaI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/6PlTL3h6if0/s1600-h/DSC00278.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113427804271497634" style="CURSOR: hand" height="193" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RvaLfvI1UaI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/6PlTL3h6if0/s320/DSC00278.jpg" width="256" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just another road&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After all these years, I think he finally caught the photography bug from me. He knows I like visiting new places to snap shots, espcially places with historical interest, so he was saying this to me the other night when he called from his home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;'It's just relaxing walking around to see how much this place has changed. &lt;strong&gt;Thankfully&lt;/strong&gt; you didn't come or else you'd be stopping just about at every step to take photos.'&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So much for understanding me dear.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-7070871775781018789?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/7070871775781018789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=7070871775781018789&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/7070871775781018789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/7070871775781018789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/09/more-decent-pics.html' title='More Decent Pics!'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RvaNXvI1UhI/AAAAAAAAAKI/aTKzjBAx2fo/s72-c/DSC00291.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-6012239116967104795</id><published>2007-09-17T00:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T00:54:14.180+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Naughty'/><title type='text'>Clothes Stripping Act of the Month</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Clothes Stripping Act of the Month&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/Ru1e-bk4OaI/AAAAAAAAAI4/13JaM1jRk1A/s1600-h/Picture(181).jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110845578782718370" style="WIDTH: 140px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 223px" height="302" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/Ru1e-bk4OaI/AAAAAAAAAI4/13JaM1jRk1A/s320/Picture(181).jpg" width="212" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Stand in front of the mirror. Loosen shorts. Drop them. Remove them aside. Underwear intact. Now socks. Lift right leg. Bend down slightly. Reach for socks. Remove it. Repeat for left leg. Stop here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sexy, without the need to bare all, don't you think so? Lol. Here, I present you the sexy art of removing shorts and socks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-6012239116967104795?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/6012239116967104795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=6012239116967104795&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/6012239116967104795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/6012239116967104795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/09/clothes-stripping-act-of-month.html' title='Clothes Stripping Act of the Month'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/Ru1e-bk4OaI/AAAAAAAAAI4/13JaM1jRk1A/s72-c/Picture(181).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-1353332657741062716</id><published>2007-08-22T00:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-22T00:55:12.622+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Naughty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cool Stuff'/><title type='text'>A Dick For History</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A Dick For History&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How was your history teacher back then in high school? Like the one below?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RssYM97Ro4I/AAAAAAAAAIw/5pv5Iipu1x8/s1600-h/naughty+teacher.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101197613987898242" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RssYM97Ro4I/AAAAAAAAAIw/5pv5Iipu1x8/s320/naughty+teacher.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I made him strip for me. Simply by being smart in giving correct answers to his questions-on american history, unfortunately. I don't know about you but I sure love the tease. First you get to choose your favourite teacher. Then answer 7 questions to see him remove his clothing one by one. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Head to &lt;a href="http://www.naughtyamericanhistory.com/"&gt;http://www.naughtyamericanhistory.com/&lt;/a&gt; now. Keep trying and don't give up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-1353332657741062716?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/1353332657741062716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=1353332657741062716&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/1353332657741062716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/1353332657741062716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/08/dick-for-history.html' title='A Dick For History'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RssYM97Ro4I/AAAAAAAAAIw/5pv5Iipu1x8/s72-c/naughty+teacher.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-318052781703518392</id><published>2007-08-15T20:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T20:19:21.900+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Naughty'/><title type='text'>Bum of the Month</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Bum of the Month&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RsGb8-3EmVI/AAAAAAAAAIo/2f218_CWryM/s1600-h/bumofthemonth.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098527725128554834" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RsGb8-3EmVI/AAAAAAAAAIo/2f218_CWryM/s320/bumofthemonth.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bare skin. The arch of the back that curves to where the dimples are. Soft and tender yet toned and tight. Legs sprawled, calling an invitation. With a slight tan line, this I present you the bum of the month.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-318052781703518392?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/318052781703518392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=318052781703518392&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/318052781703518392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/318052781703518392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/08/bum-of-month.html' title='Bum of the Month'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RsGb8-3EmVI/AAAAAAAAAIo/2f218_CWryM/s72-c/bumofthemonth.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-2282308869920936761</id><published>2007-08-12T16:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T18:27:55.180+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>The Power of 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;The Power of 3&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, no, many times, our conversations at the dinner table are not really sensible. But who cares as long as we're having good time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One example, last week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the dinner table, both our glasses of lime juice were almost empty and we were not even halfway through our meal. I ordered another glass of the same but Jay wanted a can of coke instead. When my drink came, I took the lime from the two empty glasses and put them into my drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Whoa triple power now eh?&lt;/em&gt; says Jay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yes. And do you know what else comes in three?&lt;/em&gt; I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;S.H.E.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The girls from HongKong?&lt;/em&gt; I wanted confirmation from him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yes. D'oh.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Powerpuff Girls.&lt;/em&gt; I quickly retorted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Halliwell sisters.&lt;/em&gt; Jay was quick to answer it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to my turn - &lt;em&gt;Destiny's Child.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jay paused for a few minutes before he came up with this-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tricycle.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Huh? What kind of answer is that?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Well it's about three isn't it?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No. We're talking about people!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No no no. No one said anything about the rules.&lt;/em&gt; Jay objected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ok you can have your cheap answer. I'm not degrading myself by giving tri-words answers.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Suits you. See what can you give now.&lt;/em&gt; He snickered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Micheal Learns To Rock?&lt;/em&gt; I wasn't sure if there were three of them. Anyway, I'm right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Beckham's children. Three of them.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lame. Not accepted. Anyone's children can come in pack of threes&lt;/em&gt;. I told Jay. &lt;em&gt;Look, my neighbour the Singhs, he has 3 children too. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fine. How about TLC?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Oh the all-female band.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yes. Your turn please.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Not much news from TLC nowadays eh?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No. Gimme your answer. And don't divert.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Gregory triplets.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Who are they?&lt;/em&gt; Jay didn't believe me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Famous male models. You don't know them right? You're outdated.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eat your chicken!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-2282308869920936761?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/2282308869920936761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=2282308869920936761&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/2282308869920936761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/2282308869920936761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/08/power-of-3.html' title='The Power of 3'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-5450561947361700187</id><published>2007-07-30T21:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T21:58:18.984+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>Love To Hate Him</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Love To Hate Him&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rainy days. Everyday, for the past few weeks. Makes you wanna just stay in bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my way to work this morning, while it was still raining cats and dogs, I suddenly had a thought of sending a sweet message to him and I couldn't wait to see what his reply was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my message to him...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Raining heavily this morning. Wish I could snug in the bed together with you under the comforter and sleep throughout the day. You have any wish?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I waited for his 'warm' message. He replied, after about 5 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wish today is Sunday.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much for being thoughtful eh? I wanna smack him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-5450561947361700187?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/5450561947361700187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=5450561947361700187&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/5450561947361700187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/5450561947361700187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/07/love-to-hate-him.html' title='Love To Hate Him'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-7258090161216056145</id><published>2007-07-24T23:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-24T23:36:05.051+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Good Morning&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jay has this luxury of waking up later than I do because his workplace is so much closer to home but often than not he takes the luxury for granted. He sleeps late at about 1am and wakes up 8-ish in the morning. If he forgets to set the alarm, he's sure late for work. So almost everyday I have to give him wake up call in the morning. Everytime he answers it, almost at the end of the ringing tone, it's always that voice of reluctance and semi-consciousness. And that's if I'm lucky that he doesn't set his phone to silent or vibrate mode the night before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I was still on my way to work, past the 7.45am mark that I'd always call him, when I receive his call. What a surprise!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hello.&lt;/em&gt; I said when I answered his call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hi.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Good morning.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Good morning to you too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Why are you calling me?&lt;/em&gt; I asked him, curious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want to &lt;u&gt;wake you up.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I laughed, of course. Sometimes it's moments like this that made it all worthwhile. It catches you by surprise. Nothing fanciful. Just something from the heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It made my day. I smiled all the way to work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-7258090161216056145?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/7258090161216056145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=7258090161216056145&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/7258090161216056145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/7258090161216056145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/07/good-morning-jay-has-this-luxury-of.html' title=''/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-103043335178615313</id><published>2007-07-18T23:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T00:35:52.606+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Blur Diners&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meeting up after our gym session, both of us were hungry but it was already 10.30pm.  Other than fastfood it's hard to find something decent to eat at this hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove around and saw this restaurant still open. Rather cosy inside I saw. There were still diners inside. Jay suggested we try this one. We didn't have much choices either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went in and sat down, looked at the menu and made our order. Quite a lot actually, for the two of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Curry noodles.&lt;br /&gt;Szechuan pork.&lt;br /&gt;Cantonese fried rice.&lt;br /&gt;Herbal soup.&lt;br /&gt;Steamed chicken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the food is being prepared in the kitchen, I look around the interior of the restaurant. Posters of delicious food on the wall. Chinese calligraphy framed up as well. Statues of chinese deity strategically placed for feng shui purpose. Then I saw this character on the wall. A pretty huge chinese character. That seemed too familiar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Vegetarian'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned to Jay and asked for confirmation. He looked back at me and we laughed. Oh no! This is a vegetarian restaurant. How did we not notice it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our food came. Chicken, pork and other supposedly meat in our dishes are all flour made to look like real meat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted protein after my work out and I got flour instead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-103043335178615313?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/103043335178615313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=103043335178615313&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/103043335178615313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/103043335178615313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/07/blur-diners-meeting-up-after-our-gym.html' title=''/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-328040962050091963</id><published>2007-06-30T23:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T01:02:57.824+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Naughty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Wet T-Shirt Contest&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family is away for the weekend so I invited Jay over for the night. He refused, knowing that my place isn't air-conditioned so he invited me to his place to overnight instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For lunch I made some food and he managed to drop by my place before heading for his freelance work in the afternoon. After that, he came over again to have a quick shower. I wanted to join him in the bathroom but he didn't want to play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hungry. Let's go eat.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His stomach demands more than his crotch. The highly sex-driven guy in me just have to wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we were leaving the compound of my home, I noticed that the sun is still shining and I remembered him telling that he wanted to get his car washed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hey, wanna wash the car here?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pipe is ready. The water hose is long enough. The rags and bottle of car foam ready. And then we washed his car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Halfway through the wash, Jay shouted to me from the rear end of the car while I was cleaning the wind shields in front.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Can I remove my shirt?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sure. But then I'll have to take off mine too. The neighbours will see.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then gossip. After all, the residents here are not very far different from the residents of Wisteria Lane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, the water bill might be slightly more this time and I might need to replace that bottle of car foam for dad immediately...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...but wet white tees outlining the pecs and hard nips and perhaps the four pack abs on a hot afternoon on two bodies with raging testosterones- total hotness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-328040962050091963?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/328040962050091963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=328040962050091963&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/328040962050091963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/328040962050091963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/06/wet-t-shirt-contest-my-family-is-away.html' title=''/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-8308709179289978636</id><published>2007-06-22T23:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T01:04:06.149+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;A Coming Together&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weekend is coming and I know he likes to watch movie on a Friday night. I booked 2 tickets to the horror movie Alone tonight and called him in the morning to let him know. Of course, he's still not answering my calls. I can only hope that he reads all the messages I sent him so I texted him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;I bought 2 tickets to the movie ALONE tonight at 11pm. Wait for you at the cinema.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I waited for the whole afternoon but there wasn't any sound from him. I just have to keep trying, I told myself. Towards the evening I already forgot about the movie and not expecting his reply anymore. I headed to the gym right after work on a dull Friday night. Two hours later after I showered and ready to head home, I saw a message from Jay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Where?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I immediately replied him which cinema we are to meet. I should've check for messages more frequently!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He called while I was still waiting for him to arrive to tell me he's on his way. We talked like strangers- as if we just knew each other. He didn't sound angry and I was please to hear his voice although I wanted to scold him on his fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I queued up to get popcorn and drinks while waiting for him and he appeared suddenly next to me. We just looked at each other. No expressions. I smiled and then he offered to hold the food for me. We went into the cinema after that only to realised that the seats I bought were extra spacious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked rather surprised and immediately told me,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;This is couple seat!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know about that too. Glad it happened that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No kissing. No holding hands. Neither of us made that move. I just wanted to take it slowly from here. Him? Maybe his ego is still big.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-8308709179289978636?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/8308709179289978636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=8308709179289978636&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/8308709179289978636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/8308709179289978636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/06/coming-together-weekend-is-coming-and-i.html' title=''/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-3236072944598243390</id><published>2007-06-20T23:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-24T13:21:03.098+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>Calls Unanswered, Messages Unreplied</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Calls Unanswered, Messages Unreplied&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Will wait for your call. Can't sleep.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Please call me back. Miss you everyday dear.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Please don't punish me this way. Socld and say anyway you want. Let me talk to you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Feeling empty without your presence dear.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just to wake you up just now in case you oversleep if you are resting. You have a good day.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just finish work. Had argument with my manager. Wish to talk to you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Missing you very much dear.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The past 2 weeks have been difficult for me dear.Really miss you. Always thinking about you day and night. Miss talking and hearing your voice. Answer my call please. I ask forgiveness from you. I can only hope you still think of me. I love you. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Good morning dear. Miss you deeply. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dear I need help from you. I need to get... Like those you have. Really need your help.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Need to sleep early tonight. Bad flu. Hope you are doing ok. Love you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You must be at the gym now. Enjoy your work out. Will call you again tonight.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I will be waiting for you after my class. Let's go for dinner ok?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just completed all my chores. Now ready to bed. Miss you alot.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Thunderstorm now. Drive carefully ok.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Missing you so so much right now.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost into 20 days since we last met and spoke, the feeling of insecurity lingers on...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-3236072944598243390?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/3236072944598243390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=3236072944598243390&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/3236072944598243390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/3236072944598243390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/06/calls-unanswered-messages-unreplied.html' title='Calls Unanswered, Messages Unreplied'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-3582281660598817234</id><published>2007-06-13T00:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-13T00:50:05.018+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>Such A Tease!</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Such A Tease!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the thoughts about Jay everyday sometimes make me smile, sometimes glad and sometimes feeling sorry. But one funny thought of a recent conversation we had about a month ago made me realise that Jay's mind can be just like mine, all about sex day-long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night he came back home after training hard in the gym with a strained muscle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My thigh hurts. It's aching alot.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Of course my dear. You trained too hard.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Maybe I strained my muscle.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You need to rest. Elevate your legs slightly when you sleep tonight. Put a pillow underneath them.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yeah, doing that now. You taught me last time.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Or you can rub deep heat on your thighs.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Huh?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Deep heat. Apply them on.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What for? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So that the heat relaxes your muscle more.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Say put what again?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;D-e-e-p H-e-a-t. It's a type or cream for muscle aches.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Oh! I thought you said dickhead.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hahaha.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You can rub your dickhead on me...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was such a turn on. He seldom gets naughty and talk dirty like that, though I wished he could do that more often. That conversation caused an immediate erection in me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-3582281660598817234?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/3582281660598817234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=3582281660598817234&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/3582281660598817234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/3582281660598817234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/06/such-tease.html' title='Such A Tease!'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-7816822911185702645</id><published>2007-06-10T20:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-10T20:53:41.635+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>Don't Punish Me This Way</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Don't Punish Me This Way&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bumped into him today. Happy to see him for the first time since two Saturdays ago. He walked past me amidst the crowded area in the gym. I walked towards him and call him. He looked at me and then walked away. I wanted to leave him alone so I did. Only for 10 seconds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I realised I had to speak to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to the locker room to find him. He saw me. I went near him and call out his name. He looked up to me as he was taking off his shoes. A new pair, my guess is a gift from the guy. I looked at his eyes and call him again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all he said. Then he proceeded to quickly pack his stuff into his bag and leave the room. He didn't even shower. I pleaded him to talk to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Talk to me please.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He ignored me. He looked pissed off. Why does he despise me so much?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat there for a moment. Two guys nearby saw my distraught look and were probably snickering at the me. I didn't care. All matters now is what Jay thinks of me. I want to hear it from him. I went out of the room afterwards and saw Jay walking out of the gym from afar. I felt the emptiness in me. I could feel the tears wanting to drop but I refused to cry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-7816822911185702645?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/7816822911185702645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=7816822911185702645&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/7816822911185702645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/7816822911185702645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/06/dont-punish-me-this-way.html' title='Don&apos;t Punish Me This Way'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-7873906801886772731</id><published>2007-06-07T21:22:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-07T22:43:28.208+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>You Did The Stupidest Thing</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;You Did The Stupidest Thing&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;...You must be happy now. This is it. We're over. Sorry.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was Jay's last message to me this afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't call and speak to him. He doesn't answer my calls. Neither my messages. Except one which I sent him this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Please call me back. If I've done anything wrong let me know so that I can change. Miss you dear.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't have any intention to make the issue known to others. I called the guy just once to seek the truth and that 's all. He must have thought that from there and then, the guy then spoke about us and spread the news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Don't call me. Don't even come to find me and please don't email me for now too.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn't want to be in contact me with anymore when I wanted him to return my call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However I know there's a little part in him that still loves me. When I was trapped in a somewhat dangerous situation involving an armed and injured man in a clinic last night, he called me (for the first time since last Saturday) but I missed the call unfortunately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please, please don't put all the blame on me. I want us to work this out. Talk to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-7873906801886772731?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/7873906801886772731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=7873906801886772731&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/7873906801886772731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/7873906801886772731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/06/you-did-stupidest-thing.html' title='You Did The Stupidest Thing'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-6476955958900265594</id><published>2007-06-04T21:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-04T22:17:56.665+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>I Promise Won't Do That Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;I Promise Won't Do That Again&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A promise broken many times breaks the heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had a fling with a guy he met, probably a few months back. Back then there were probably just friends. Then the guy came to town. They met up frequently. That was when it started. That guy liked him. Or maybe he liked that guy first. That I'm not sure. A couple of weeks they were really close. He called him almost everyday and spoke hours on the phone. I can't imagine the things they did but I still have some faith in him. I sensed something not right. Questioned him their relationship. He said 'Just friends'. My hunch is usually right. Told him that friends don't treat one another so overly nice. Still, he said 'Just friends'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I found out the truth. My hunch is right. Then I confronted him. He denied it. Though at the time I found out the truth he had already stopped the fling. Stopped seeing that guy. I located the guy's contact number and I called him to get the whole story. Well, maybe he got to that guy first. The guy's story is just as clean as his.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yea, I like Jay but he told me he already has you. And no, there wasn't anything going on between us. Nothing more than just friends.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that nobody tells the truth anymore? Whatever happened to being frank and honest?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe what I did was wrong. I shouldn't have been intrusive and call that guy. And that's probably why he is still so furious at me that he wouldn't want to talk now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been 3 days now. He doesn't want to answer my phone call. I miss him so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-6476955958900265594?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/6476955958900265594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=6476955958900265594&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/6476955958900265594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/6476955958900265594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/06/i-promise-wont-do-that-again.html' title='I Promise Won&apos;t Do That Again'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-5621768627281977204</id><published>2007-05-23T22:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-04T21:47:02.520+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Feeling Unwanted&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps I'm tired. Perhaps I'm in need of attention. I'm also unsure myself. But it definitely involves Jay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm wrong but I remember what his priorities are used to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These days his gym is utmost important. He leaves work on time to head to the gym and will usually be out with his friends. Same goes for the weekend as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always look forward to seeing him. Be it for dinner, working out together or a quickie. Thus my tendency to push other appointments aside to make time for him, in case he's free to meet up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But not lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He works out till late at night. By then he's already tired to meet up. Weekend comes and he's seen hanging out with his buddies til late at night, sometimes wee hours in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I begin to compare. His meets his friends more often that me. He can hang out with them til late at night. When both of us go out, he would already want me to leave by midnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other days, when I want to go over his place, he says no. When I want to do this, he says maybe next time. When I want to do that, he disapproves. It's like rejection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel ignored. Not important. Okay, maybe I'm expecting much. But as a boyfriend I think I deserve better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He still cares for me. No matter how late or where ever he goes, he lets me know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night we went out for dinner. I was feeling a down due to the lack of attention from him. Despite being together, I was frustrated and wasn't the usual jovial Kay. We fought at the dinner table. But in the end he patched things up and we're back talking again. I'm easily persuaded, you see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back home that night, he called and I explained to him. And he told me he misses me a lot- it's rare to hear that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want us to take our relationship a step up. I want him to meet my friends and I want to meet his. Right now, he doesn't want that to mix. All he wants is just me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way I see it, me, yeah, only when he's lonely and needed company.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-5621768627281977204?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/5621768627281977204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=5621768627281977204&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/5621768627281977204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/5621768627281977204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/05/feeling-unwanted-perhaps-im-tired.html' title=''/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-4839512452840731489</id><published>2007-05-19T23:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-04T21:47:43.846+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>The Day We Had Dinner And A Movie</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;The Day We Had Dinner And A Movie&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, it's that simple. A movie is a must for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to the restaurant and had to wait to be seated so we gave our names first and then went to get tickets for the movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since it was a weekday there weren't many movies showing. One movie caught his attention and it's about to start in 30 minutes when we queued for the tickets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Let's cancel the dinner.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My jaw dropped. I couldn't believe he would say that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come on it's my birthday dinner. Cancel it and go watch a his movie?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Totally a wrong move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I insisted for a proper dinner. He obliged. And after a hearty meal, we went to watch a movie later that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing fancy on that night but I truly enjoyed the time we spend at the dinner table. It felt like we were dating again- we talked, joked and laughed. All things nice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-4839512452840731489?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/4839512452840731489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=4839512452840731489&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/4839512452840731489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/4839512452840731489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/05/day-we-had-dinner-and-movie.html' title='The Day We Had Dinner And A Movie'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-6545754641485531926</id><published>2007-05-15T19:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-03T21:36:15.839+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Jay'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>How About Sex Pre and Post-Party?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How About Sex Pre and Post-Party?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was doing my work on my pc one night and Jay came online to chat with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Your day is near,  &lt;/span&gt;he said.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Huh? What day? &lt;/span&gt;I asked, a lilttle blur.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Your big day is around the corner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Oh. So you notice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Of course! What do you want for your birthday?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Ah, he remembers.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You should know me. Given a choice, say I can have anything I want or a surprise, I choose surprise anytime.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You should know me too. I'm not good at surprises. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You can try??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hmm. Okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;With that, I look forward to my birthday soon. Knowing him well enough, I'm not expecting anything from him other than a dinner and a movie.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&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/11556782-6545754641485531926?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/6545754641485531926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=6545754641485531926&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/6545754641485531926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/6545754641485531926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/05/how-about-sex-pre-and-post-party.html' title='How About Sex Pre and Post-Party?'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-1664622710151110917</id><published>2007-04-28T11:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-06T12:36:21.295+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>The World Is Upside Down. (He's at fault but I'm begging him)</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;The World Is Upside Down. (He's at fault but I'm begging him)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once, a few months ago, I saw a lovebite on his neck as I sat next to him in the car. I questioned him but he kept quiet. I was furious as I knew what happened. I wanted him to tell me but he remained silent. Few hours later he sent me a message:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Don't be angry at me. Don't be dissapointed with me okay? I will explain to you tonight.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told me that night. I was devastated. He had a fling with a man he met at the local swimming pool. Whether he brought him back to his place or they did it in his car, I'm unsure. He told me he met this guy at the pool who didn't have any transport to return home so he offered him a ride. I would want to know why he acted that way but I couldn't bear hearing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he does something like that, he would always be defensive about it and only talks or apologizes about it at a much later time. Why not on the spot? He needs to take time to think of a better reasoning? Make up another story to cover the real one so not to hurt that much? I always think that if you need to explain your wrongdoings later but not when asked to, the sincerity is gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cute goodlooking guys. Sexy hot bods. Who doesn't want? Everyone has tempatations. Me too. But we deal with it! You don't just say you can't resist it, then indulge and only say sorry later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was another incident where he wanted to secretly go to Genting with Kent, the guy whom he bought a condominium from last year, but told me he was going with his relatives instead. I found out just a day before his departure and his reason was that he didn't want me to worry and think falsely of his actions. Apparently it was Kent birthday and he invited some of his friends and Jay to celebrate it there. He didn't want to let Kent down and pull out last minute as Kent has booked and paid the hotel room so he went ahead with his plan. He came back after the weekend to tell me about the trip. I had doubts. If only he had told me the truth much earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least he felt sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just days ago, Wednesday, I found out through a gossip talk with a friend, A, that his friend C, had been contacting this guy, P, he met in a chatroom from Gay.com. C and P, have been communicating on the phone via SMS and even shared photos of themselves in the nude. A told me how excited his friend C was as C is single and finally found someone he likes. And as we continued chatting and all happy for C, P's name was mentioned and suddenly all seemed so coincident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found out P is Jay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jay sent C full frontal pictures of himself. They exchanged pics.&lt;br /&gt;C was looking for singles. Jay told C he was single.&lt;br /&gt;Jay wanted to meet C to have sex and even invited him over one night but C couldn't make it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I confronted Jay, he denied at first but with the proof I had, he got even more defensive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I didn't sleep with him ok! Say what ever you want, as long as I know didn't sleep with him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't speak and meet for 2 days. In the end I was the one again who made the move. I went to see him. So that we could talk about it. He didn't want to. I was shouted at for being intrusive. I knew that was not a good timing because he had to prepare for a stage appearance just 2 more hours later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Can't we talk for just 10 minutes? I want to patch things up and make it work.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No. Don't disturb me. Please leave.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't want to budge. I wanted us to sort this matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Don't you think what you did is wrong?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Don't you ever think of the consequences?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;How would you feel if I were to do this to you?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He just remained silent but I could see he was becoming agitated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Don't you care for me anymore?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wish I won't. Can you leave me please. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;OK. But I want to talk through this ok? Will you call me tonight?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He kept silent. His eyes frown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I sayang you dear.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said that as my tears rolled down my cheeks. I gave him my hand for him to kiss. He gave a peck in return. He never does that when we argue. Somehow I felt peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night he sent a message:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm on my way to work now. Rushing. I'm sorry dear. Promise won't do it again. I love you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called him to tell him I'd prefer him to tell me that to my face. He said he couln't do it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-1664622710151110917?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/1664622710151110917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=1664622710151110917&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/1664622710151110917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/1664622710151110917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/04/once-i-saw-lovebite-on-his-neck-as-i.html' title='The World Is Upside Down. (He&apos;s at fault but I&apos;m begging him)'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-7431146534857734740</id><published>2007-04-25T20:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-06T13:34:03.442+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>A Different Train</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;A Different Train&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dreamt about Shane last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now Shane is a friend in the gym I met recently, probably about 2 weeks ago. I was introduced to him through another friend who told me that Shane has been enquiring about me. Ever since we spoke, Shane has been pursuing me. He's been all sweet and nice eventhough we only meet in the gym to exercise. Of late we've been text messaging frequently too. I told him I'm already seeing someone but he's still persistent with his actions. I think he doesn't believe that I'm attached. But what's weird is that I dreamt of him last night. Nothing sexual, but a favourable one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's because the way he treated me. Yeah, people can be nice but with cruel intentions. However, I can feel he's different. But that's just probably what I want to think. Shane can be a good friend, that's for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jay knew of his existence, I told Jay about him. In fact, Jay already knew Shane before me. There's more. Ah, complicated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-7431146534857734740?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/7431146534857734740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=7431146534857734740&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/7431146534857734740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/7431146534857734740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/05/different-train.html' title='A Different Train'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-6435711011204015196</id><published>2007-04-15T13:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-06T13:07:32.593+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Jay'/><title type='text'>Nothing Really</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Nothing Really&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new work environment doesn't really allow me to answer my mobile phone so most of the times I missed Jay's calls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew my phone was vibrating in my left pocket of my pants today but I couldn't answer it. After the missed call, there was another short vibration- it's a message received. Later when I read the message, it read:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nothing. Just missing you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm always thinking about you too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-6435711011204015196?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/6435711011204015196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=6435711011204015196&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/6435711011204015196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/6435711011204015196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/04/nothing-really.html' title='Nothing Really'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-7498977984277413819</id><published>2007-04-08T12:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-06T13:00:42.233+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>Sleeping Together</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Sleeping Together&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a short post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to his place and stayed for the night. Wonderful.  I had attended an all-black tie dinner last night. When you're that sharply dressed, you can't help but feel sexy and all the manly scent oozing out, signalling a time for moans and joys on the bed. Woke up this morning wanting another hot wild session and he was hungry for more...food.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-7498977984277413819?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/7498977984277413819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=7498977984277413819&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/7498977984277413819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/7498977984277413819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/04/sleeping-together.html' title='Sleeping Together'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-1469654754571191444</id><published>2007-04-01T00:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-06T11:10:48.058+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>A Scarred April's Fool</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;A Scarred April's Fool&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm at my grandma's place now. I'm out of town. Away from Jay. This is the exact scenario exactly a year ago when Jay called to split up. There is a sense of insecurity. I know I shouldn't be thinking that way but it still is fresh in my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot has happened since then, I pursued him and we reunited. Hell of a rollercoaster ride of feelings. But it's not a happy ending yet as there is still so much to work on in this relationship. I see his life going smoother year after year and things have been good for him if not better. In a way, that's a very good point in a boyfriend but alas, his ego sometimes takes over him as he tends to be over confident to the verge of arrogance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, I love him to bits.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-1469654754571191444?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/1469654754571191444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=1469654754571191444&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/1469654754571191444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/1469654754571191444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/04/scarred-aprils-fool.html' title='A Scarred April&apos;s Fool'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-7735871594443913714</id><published>2007-03-26T22:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-29T22:42:26.709+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Jay'/><title type='text'>Another Gay In The Family</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Another Gay In The Family&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While returning back to work from lunch Jay called me but instead of the usual 'Hello, what are you doing?' line, he said to me in a low tone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hey, I got something to tell y&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;ou. Not sure if this is good or bad news....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course being the cautious self, I asked him what the news was about in hope that nothing devastating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Oh no!) What's it about? Another sad news to break to me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chatted with my brother online just now and he told me he just broke up with his boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told you just that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes. In fact he told me that he's no fear telling me that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now you know he's gay. What are you gonna do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't ask me. I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least comfort him. Be by his side if he needs anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't think will be a big problem to him. He's always been independant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow. This is a surprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He also knows about us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He knows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. He didn't say so but he hinted about me and you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well. I'm okay with that.&lt;br /&gt;So how do you feel now that he's out to you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know. Don't ask me that. Just dont feel like talking about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember reading articles about homosexuality in siblings. Something about if one of the brothers is gay, it is very likely that there is another brother who is gay too. Chances are even higher if they are twins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for Jay, he's still pretty uncomfortable with the idea that his brother is gay. That's how I feel from our conversation. It's funny that he can talk about the subject of homosexual with his gay friends but with me, it's like a taboo matter. We need to work on that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-7735871594443913714?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/7735871594443913714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=7735871594443913714&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/7735871594443913714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/7735871594443913714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/03/another-gay-in-family.html' title='Another Gay In The Family'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-2555316670950533153</id><published>2007-02-22T21:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-02-24T21:31:23.627+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>Goodwork</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Goodwork&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been attending interviews after interviews over the past months. Though there were a few companies which I thought I had high chances of getting hired by them, I was wrong. Since last week I had this interview which went pretty well I might say. They interviewers seemed keen on me and I could relate to the job they offered. I'm hoping to call them up today to check on my status but they called me first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm hired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As much as I'm excited about getting back to work again, somehow I feel a little worried now. Like my previous job I'm going to have a team of subordinates working with me and the plus point I see now is that I'm not the only person leading the department as there are still two senior managers above me. Hopefully this is a good thing. Plus this is a multi-national company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work starts next month. Jay just sent me a congratulatory message as I told him over the phone. I want a fun session tonight as a celebration.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-2555316670950533153?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/2555316670950533153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=2555316670950533153&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/2555316670950533153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/2555316670950533153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/02/goodwork.html' title='Goodwork'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-4554188779981858260</id><published>2007-02-15T21:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-02-25T00:30:40.286+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>What Did I Get?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What Did I Get?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/ReBnsS2wwTI/AAAAAAAAAIE/ldkrJiBnJOs/s1600-h/memories.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/ReBnsS2wwTI/AAAAAAAAAIE/ldkrJiBnJOs/s400/memories.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5035138394073645362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Valentine's Day, I didn't know what to get him. I could only think of fabulous sex but I wanted something more meaningful. So in the end I figured out that I would make him a online photo album and post some photos of our trips and vacation. Photos of us together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a late dinner at about 11pm, I quickly invited him to the nearby Starbucks for coffee and asked him to bring his laptop along too. I told him I had a surprised for him. Then he kept pestering me about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What is it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You'll know later.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tell!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ah. No-no.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So troublesome. Have to come for coffee and need to do so many things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By then I really wanted to punch him already but of course I didn't and remained calm and stayed cheerful. He can be such a jerk at times. Sometimes I feel so unappreciated. But the game had to go on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Check your Gmail for instructions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he logged into his Gmail and found an email from containing a few simple intructions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Download the song attached.&lt;br /&gt;2. Goto this link. (a link was provided of course!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then downloaded the sentimental song I sent him and viewed the photo album I created at the same time. The site took some time to load but as soon as the pictures were ready to be viewed I could see him smiling. Some of the pics are dated back to 4 years ago. Pictures of us still in younger years. Both of us were skinnier that time and the things we did in the photos, well... funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last of the photo was a I Love You message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/ReBn-y2wwUI/AAAAAAAAAIM/I4LpKvIuO3E/s1600-h/lg-happy-valentines-day.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/ReBn-y2wwUI/AAAAAAAAAIM/I4LpKvIuO3E/s200/lg-happy-valentines-day.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5035138711901225282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/ReA_yS2wwSI/AAAAAAAAAH4/ANnciFJ-M00/s1600-h/lg-happy-valentines-day.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-4554188779981858260?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/4554188779981858260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=4554188779981858260&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/4554188779981858260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/4554188779981858260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/02/what-did-i-get.html' title='What Did I Get?'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/ReBnsS2wwTI/AAAAAAAAAIE/ldkrJiBnJOs/s72-c/memories.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-1504926104720882853</id><published>2007-02-04T01:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-02-04T02:15:51.286+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>It Took Me 30 Minutes For That</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;It Took Me 30 Minutes For That&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RcTRATruiMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/d1r7t9FY5l8/s1600-h/lenses.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RcTRATruiMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/d1r7t9FY5l8/s320/lenses.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5027372887266199746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been experimenting with a new image recently and have been getting mixed responses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Not much of a diference&lt;/span&gt;. Some said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Weee. You look more mature now.&lt;/span&gt;  A few commented.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I can't recognise you&lt;/span&gt;. A close friend of mine said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the most precious compliment came from him, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Handsome. Just like me. Hahaha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I need to get used to that. No, not the compliments but putting effort to maintain that image. Ahh, I need to mirror!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-1504926104720882853?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/1504926104720882853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=1504926104720882853&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/1504926104720882853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/1504926104720882853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/02/it-took-me-30-minutes-for-that.html' title='It Took Me 30 Minutes For That'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mfELaS1ewXY/RcTRATruiMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/d1r7t9FY5l8/s72-c/lenses.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-117006029328342194</id><published>2007-01-29T16:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-29T16:44:53.310+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Naughty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>Have and Hate</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Have and Hate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That evening I downloaded iTunes for him to install in his new laptop provided by his new company. I transfered the installation file into my thumbdrive so that I could pass the device to him later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the same directory of the thumbdrive I also created a folder labelled 'Porn'. I knew this was going to get his attention. Inside the folder I left a text file with a personal note laughing at him of being caught red-handed looking for porn in my thumbdrive. There was no porn videos for him to watch. I just wanted to see how lecherous he is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At around 10pm, while watching the tv at home I received a text message from him saying:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;No Porn. Have you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was smitten. Obviously, he fell into the trap and said he found no porn. No porn, not a big deal because having me is more than enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or so I thought. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because when I called him later that night and wanted to thank him for the sweet message, he told me otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The message was supposed to say:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No Porn. Hate you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I hate you too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-117006029328342194?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/117006029328342194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=117006029328342194&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/117006029328342194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/117006029328342194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/01/have-and-hate.html' title='Have and Hate'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-116989194556509792</id><published>2007-01-27T16:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-27T17:59:05.840+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Naughty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>Quickie Before Movie</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Quickie Before Movie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An trip to the mall to dine and then catch a movie last night turnd to be ridiculously funny and hormone raging horny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was another hour or so before the movie starts and since it was close to midnight, all the stores in the mall were already closed. I suggested us to visit the Gents to pee. We stood just next to each other at the urinals, alone in the empty toilet located at one of the dark corners of the mall. He peeked at my tool, I peeked his. We kissed while peeing. We washed our hands and as we were about to leave the room, I stopped him near the entrance and kissed him. My hands started to grab his crotch and realised he wasn't wearing undies. I could see he was horny too. We proceeded into a toilet stall and made out there. A quick but satisfying one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One shot everywhere on to the wall and floor, where as another just oozed out streams of white spunk down the hard phallic, indicating he might have jerked off earlier. We cleaned the mess and left the loo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked out and noticed two drops of cum on my pants, still fresh and sticky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We came to a somewhat huge man-made plastic garden display with flowers and plants in gigantic sizes. The area was pretty dark, the lights were turned off and a guard was seen patrolling the vicinity. I suggested him to take some shots of the display with his camera phone first and then we ended up taking pics of ourselves in sily, dramatic poses akin to little Alice being lost in Wonderland. Hilarious. The night guard saw us but I think he left us alone because perhaps he didn't thought us as threat. We giggled like schoolgirls so not to make a big commotion out of our laughter. We viewed the shots taken in the camera phone and the best one is of him trying hard to pose confused and lost but ended up looking constipated instead. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That were the highlights of the night and the movie wasn't even close. Sometimes the best things are free. Just need a spoonful of gut and free-spirit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-116989194556509792?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/116989194556509792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=116989194556509792&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116989194556509792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116989194556509792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/01/quickie-before-movie.html' title='Quickie Before Movie'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-116978936364319438</id><published>2007-01-26T12:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-26T15:44:43.173+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>"Weekend At The Resort With Relatives"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;"Weekend At The Resort With Relatives"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told me that his relatives are coming to visit him this weekend and they wanted him to join them at a resort out of town. And I was already informed more than a week ago about this trip of his. Just a bit of a letdown because this weekend will be spent without him around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything was okay until I found out yesterday that he is actually going with Kent. My mood immediately changed. I was angry, sad and dissapointed. How could he be doing this to me? The car incident was only days ago and he promised to be honest with me about everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't call him because he was in the gym so I sent him a message instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You lied and I don't know how to trust you again. You promise not to hide things from me but you still do it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;What did I do? Tell me please...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He knew what he did but still played dumb. Then after some thoughts he spoke up and admitted it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Oh...about this coming weekend?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we continued talking about the issue and also on why he had to cook up a story to fool me. I felt stupid. I was angry at him for doing that to me and also angry at myself for being such a fool. We spoke and argued for two hours on the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never shouted so much at him before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ultimately his main intention of hiding the truth was that he didn't want me to get worried and simply assume things. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth is that Kent is celebrating his birthday at the resort and has invited him and other friends over the weekend. The resort rooms and all other expenses have been booked and paid. The only reason Jay is going is because he didn't want to let Kent down. (But is willing to let me down).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I've told Kent to stop courting me. I told him I can only be friends with him. There won't be anymore after this, Kay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You do what you think is right, Jay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't love me anymore?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After what I've done for you after all these years, you still doubt me?&lt;/span&gt; I scolded him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't meet up last night. But I called him again before I sleep to speak to him again about us and our relationship. Whether fated or not, both of us blurted out apologies at the same time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please don't hurt my feelings anymore my dear.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-116978936364319438?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/116978936364319438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=116978936364319438&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116978936364319438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116978936364319438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/01/weekend-at-resort-with-relatives.html' title='&quot;Weekend At The Resort With Relatives&quot;'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-116979906775768593</id><published>2007-01-21T15:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-26T18:23:00.596+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Naughty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>Facial</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Facial&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/618/684/200/351892/facialcream.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fun FUn Fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both of us haven't done facial mask for a long time so I suggested that we do it since we had ample time in the room. He asked me to lay down on the bed and then he applied some cream from the drawer (he has tonnes of bottles of different creams) on my face and started to massage it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Can you move downwards and massage there?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He moved to my chin and neck and rubed the area there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;No. I mean way down. Down south.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He finally understood what I said and gave out a big NO. What a spoil sport!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it was his turn next and not long after that both of our faces were covered with white cream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After about 30 minutes we went to wash the mask off and showered together. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another appointment for facial is set next week!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-116979906775768593?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/116979906775768593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=116979906775768593&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116979906775768593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116979906775768593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/01/facial.html' title='Facial'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-116980169855336336</id><published>2007-01-18T16:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-26T16:54:59.190+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>"I Need To Help Send Adrian's Car To The Service Center"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;"I Need To Help Send Adrian's Car To The Service Center"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the past 2 days Jay has been busy helping a friend of his, sending him to the car service centre and other places after the friend's car was damaged in a road accident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jay is not working for a whole week this week. He found a new job offering a much better prospect so he left his company last week and will be starting his new job next Monday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This friend of his must be pretty close to him or else he wouldn't have chosen Jay to help him out. When I asked who his friend was, Jay told me he was an ex-collgeaue of his called Adrian. He told me they were very close buddies when he was working in his first company. Furthermore Adrian did help Jay a few times when Jay's car was in trouble and needed repair some time back, so I guess it's only appropriate that Jay offers his help to Adrian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I found out otherwise, due to Jay's own careless mistake, that it wasn't Adrian. And not surpringly, the friend he helped was non other than Kent. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was still in pretense when I confronted him about the incident and insisted that it was Adrian but in the end he admitted it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He knew I was going to be upset when I know about it although he has assured me that there was nothing going on between them. Just friends. The way I see it is if there was nothing then he should have come clean with me and not lied to me instead. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;All I want is honesty in our relationship. I want trust. You can tell me anything and everything and I'm always reasonable with you. Don't hide things from me again okay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He nodded.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-116980169855336336?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/116980169855336336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=116980169855336336&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116980169855336336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116980169855336336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-need-to-help-send-adrians-car-to.html' title='&quot;I Need To Help Send Adrian&apos;s Car To The Service Center&quot;'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-116715364527312398</id><published>2006-12-27T00:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-27T01:27:15.410+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>The Circle of Trust</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;The Circle of Trust&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When both of us went to check out a condominium last year, Jay was surprised to see his friend Kent there working as a sales agent. Both of them said hi to each other and I was left in the dark, not knowing who he was. He served us well, providing sufficient information on the unit Jay that was interested in. I saw that as Kent trying to get near Jay. I thought he had a crush on Jay. Later Jay explained that he met Kent not too long ago from the local swimming pool. And of course Kent is gay too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of late, Kent has been in contact with Jay frequently. Calling him at nights. Asking him out for drinks and supper. Bringing him brochures on the properties he's selling. I know his intention but Jay thinks otherwise. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;No, I don't think he is trying to win me! He is an agent and all he wants is sales.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always believe my hunch. It's obvious he has an interest in you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think so.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was our phone conversation just now before he went to bed. My gut feeling tells me I'm right. I just hope Jay is being honest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I sent him a message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I just want honesty. Good night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Nothing between us. Trust me dear. I love you more than anything now. Okie?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad to hear that. Really. I just want assurance from him. I was about to reply his message when my phone rang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;How come you didn't reply me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking what to say. Dear, all I want is for you to tell me what's going on. I know I can trust you but I don't want you to hide anything from me. Maybe you don't want me to be paranoid or freak out. Tell me like what I tell you everything. I know you have no interest in him but if Kent is after you, you can tell me. Okay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You sound tired. Have a good night sleep dear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good night. I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-116715364527312398?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/116715364527312398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=116715364527312398&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116715364527312398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116715364527312398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/12/circle-of-trust.html' title='The Circle of Trust'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-116712689883201212</id><published>2006-12-26T17:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-26T17:54:59.250+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cool Stuff'/><title type='text'>Which Tree Did You Fall From?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Which Tree Did You Fall From?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got this from a forwarded mail. And of course the first thing I did was to read about Jay's personality based on his birthdate and then mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ash Tree- the Ambition (Nov 22- Dec 1)&lt;br /&gt;-extrememly &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;attractive&lt;/span&gt;, vivacious, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;impulsive&lt;/span&gt;, demanding, doesn't care for criticism, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;ambitious&lt;/span&gt;, talented, likes to &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;play with fate&lt;/span&gt;, can be &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;very egotistic&lt;/span&gt;, reliable, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;restless &lt;/span&gt;lover, sometimes money rules over heart, demands attention, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;needs love and much emotional support&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chestnus Tree- the Honesty (May 15 - May 24)&lt;br /&gt;-of unusual stature, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;impressive&lt;/span&gt;, well-developed sense of justice, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;fun &lt;/span&gt;to be around, a &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;planner&lt;/span&gt;, born &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;diplomat&lt;/span&gt;, can be irritated easily, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;sensitive of others feelings&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;hardworker&lt;/span&gt;, sometimes act superior, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;feels not understood at times&lt;/span&gt;, fiercely family oriented, very &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;loyal in love&lt;/span&gt;, physically &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;fit&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sent him both the descriptions above, mine after his, with the phone and his text reply was:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Love. Love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-116712689883201212?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/116712689883201212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=116712689883201212&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116712689883201212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116712689883201212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/12/which-tree-did-you-fall-from.html' title='Which Tree Did You Fall From?'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-116654999260171402</id><published>2006-12-20T01:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-26T18:07:07.040+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>For You and For Myself Too</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;For You and For Myself Too&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Let's go to the Nike store. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There he goes again. Going to the store to check out their latest products, like once every fortnight. Splurging money unwisely, to me I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went in and he immediately headed to the shoes section. He grabbed hold of one pair after looking around and showed it to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;You just got yourself a new pair early this year.&lt;/span&gt; I reminded him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, so?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stared at him and he understood me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I'm getting a new pair for you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was taken aback. I have been telling him about my current pair of shoes where the insoles are tearing apart but I have no intention of telling him so that he would buy me a new pair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Are you sure about this?&lt;/span&gt; I thought that I still can wear my current shoes. I just need to change the insoles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Yes. I'm buying you one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We selected a few pairs and both of us tried the shoes. Yes both of us, eventhough I'm the one getting a new pair. Then it hit him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I like this pair.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Oh, the Nike Air Max 360 is our latest design. You virtually walk on air with this. &lt;/span&gt;The store assistant chipped in immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that was decided. He tested it and decided to buy it for himself. Then he went on to shop more for a tee and a pair of pants, while I was taking time myself trying on a few more pairs of shoes of different designs. I need one which fits me comfortably and feels good when I run. After all these shoes aren't cheap!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;How about this pair?&lt;/span&gt; I asked him when he was looking at himself in the mirror, next to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Not bad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The previous pair looks big on me.&lt;/span&gt; I tried to encourage him for more feedback.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Okay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;How about this one?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haven't you decided?&lt;/span&gt; Finally, he spoke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes. That is Jay. The quick, no-fuss guy. And very not helpful when it comes to shopping. He wants your opinion when he goes to the fitting room to try his clothes but he's a man of very few words when you want his opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We left the store after that to shop for underwear. Jay needed more pairs and I truly enjoy shopping undies for him though he's fussy when it comes to the material and cut so we ended up spending about less than 30 mins to get him 3 pairs. We went home after dinner feeling tired. But my mind was still on the purchase we made at Nike. We spend more than a grand there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/618/684/200/770246/knike.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-116654999260171402?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/116654999260171402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=116654999260171402&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116654999260171402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116654999260171402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/12/for-you-and-for-myself-too.html' title='For You and For Myself Too'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-116641264776965409</id><published>2006-12-18T11:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-18T11:30:47.793+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>Still</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Still&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even after four years together,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still get excited everytime my phone rings but dissapointed only to find it's not Jay calling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd still immediately read the SMS on my phone when there is a beep indicating incoming message but get dissapointed when it's not from him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You still make my heart pound fast.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-116641264776965409?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/116641264776965409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=116641264776965409&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116641264776965409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116641264776965409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/12/still.html' title='Still'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-116606944628463089</id><published>2006-12-14T11:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-14T12:17:26.910+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Naughty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>Torn Apart</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Torn Apart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My usual weekday nights are spent in the gym in group exercise classes. Classes always start with a warm-up and followed by full body workout with increasing intensity as the class progresses before ending with a cool down regime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been wearing this pair of shorts from Adidas lately. Not too baggy and it fits snugly and just nice. However lately I found out some threads are loose along the hemline and I have the fear that my shorts will tear apart. That is why I have been very carefull not to overstretch it especially when doing squats and lunges. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yesterday night was different. To my horror, albeit me being careful and all, I heard a rip in my pants. The side where the pocket line is is torn. The hole was only about an inch long so I did not care much and continued my work out and then later when I checked it again, the split there had become worse- I could easily slip all my &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;four fingers into the hole&lt;/span&gt;! I panicked but calmed myself down after knowing that the class ends in less than 10 minutes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What an experience but I felt sexy nonetheless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/320/bigstretch.jpg'&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-116606944628463089?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/116606944628463089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=116606944628463089&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116606944628463089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116606944628463089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/12/torn-apart.html' title='Torn Apart'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-116583188973203248</id><published>2006-12-11T17:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-11T18:21:23.286+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Naughty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cool Stuff'/><title type='text'>Annual Boyfriend Assessment (ABA)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Annual Boyfriend Assessment (ABA)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since Jay of &lt;a href="http://isorule.blogspot.com" target="_blank"&gt;But Enough About You&lt;/a&gt; did the Annual Boyfriend Assessment test for his darling NM, I too find myself having the need to evaluate Jay (of Story of Jay and Kay)  on my own ABA test as well. Thanks Jay of &lt;a href="http://isorule.blogspot.com"&gt;But Enough About You&lt;/a&gt; for the brilliant idea and inspiration!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/1024/jayABAtest.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/400/jayABAtest.0.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;62%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite good I must say.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-116583188973203248?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/116583188973203248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=116583188973203248&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116583188973203248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116583188973203248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/12/annual-boyfriend-assessment-aba.html' title='Annual Boyfriend Assessment (ABA)'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-116557407451752629</id><published>2006-12-08T17:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-08T18:43:31.130+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>Describe Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Describe Me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a vain post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How would you describe your other half?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I often get described as someone who is cute. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Cute guy. Cute boi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;He's cute.&lt;/span&gt; (pointing at yours truly)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;You're cute.&lt;/span&gt; (straight into my face)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or when I send my photos to Jay for him to view, I'm sure to get this remark:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Of all, you're still the cutest.&lt;/span&gt; OR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Cute!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like a chick just hatched. Maybe a puppy chasing its own tail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I think that Jay is handsome, sexy and somewhat a hunk, I still don't see anyone labelling him cute. And I don't get adjectives like sexy or good looking for myself. Funny. How do you define cute? Oh please don't tell me being cute is ugly but adorable. I feel offended with that statement. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you need a hot bod to be sexy. If the answer is yes, I think I can at least be shortlisted. Handsome? Ok, maybe not this one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to constantly tell Jay that he is good looking but he just shrugs it off whenever I compliment him. Sometimes I feel that he thinks himself still lacking of prettiness but I think otherwise. He is handsome to me. Please keep that in mind, okay dear?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, I still can accept being cute but please, don't call me a cutie!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-116557407451752629?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/116557407451752629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=116557407451752629&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116557407451752629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116557407451752629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/12/describe-me.html' title='Describe Me'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-116461980713409203</id><published>2006-11-27T16:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-28T01:17:58.613+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>No Expensive Gifts But...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;No Expensive Gifts But...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/400/mir.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On his birthday I got him a gooodie bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left him a note on his bed that reads:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy, happy birthday to you,&lt;br /&gt;I have a goodie bag for you too,&lt;br /&gt;Meet me and you will go whoaaoooo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course he was excited but only initially. Wonder what's on his mind?&lt;br /&gt;Then there were all the goodies...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- A voucher (to claim and perform &lt;i&gt;anything&lt;/i&gt; upon yours truly)&lt;br /&gt;- A compilation of songs from his favourite singer in a CD (there's hidden porn in it!)&lt;br /&gt;- A birthday cake (strawberry and chocolate!)&lt;br /&gt;- A mp3 player (well, actually it's for his sister bought on his behalf)&lt;br /&gt;- An ice cream cake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, on top of the goodies he didn't get the whole pixel game image revealed. Such a himbo at answering my questions. But because the image is oh so gorgeous I had to reveal it to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the whole simple celebration in his room he was already so tired but he still managed to pull me over him and start caressing my butt and then he asked:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wanna cum?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh sure! Hell yeah. R-I-M was the word that night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-116461980713409203?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/116461980713409203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=116461980713409203&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116461980713409203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116461980713409203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/11/no-expensive-gifts-but.html' title='No Expensive Gifts But...'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-116400753149996388</id><published>2006-11-20T15:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-20T15:40:30.000+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Naughty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>Strip The Pixels</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Strip The Pixels&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did this pixel game for Jay, counting down to his birthday. The objective of the game is to reveal the pixels one by one and finally Jay can enjoy the visual gratification.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/allblue.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's on another site called Counting Down to Nov 25.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heh. I'm having the first laugh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-116400753149996388?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/116400753149996388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=116400753149996388&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116400753149996388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116400753149996388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/11/strip-pixels.html' title='Strip The Pixels'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-116349527000532447</id><published>2006-11-14T17:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:10:20.176+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Naughty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>Hir What?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Hir What?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/bodyhair.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I learn a new word today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hirsutophilia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I like it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/bodyhair1.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you turned on already?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-116349527000532447?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/116349527000532447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=116349527000532447&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116349527000532447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116349527000532447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/11/hir-what.html' title='Hir What?'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-116295631907424770</id><published>2006-11-08T11:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-08T13:06:40.503+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Naughty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>Hot Nude Dance</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Hot Nude Dance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/jonbed.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was lying on the bed, bored and almost falling asleep, listening to house music as Jay was doing his work on his notebook stark naked, when he started to play a slow number and dragged me out of the bed to the floor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was impressed because I never thought he would be so mischievious. Alright, we danced. We slow danced. I held him close to me, so close that our bodies were rubbing each other. We started to kissed passionately as we moved to the music. My hands were busy rubbing his butt cheeks. Then they moved up to his broad shoulders before coming to the front to play with his nips. By then I could already feel his member pointing hard at me. The bulge in my pants began to grow. We continued dancing and even made two spins. It was funny, we laughed but that ended abruptly when things got hotter. Hard and fully erected. Soon my clothes were all removed and our bodies were in contact. So close, so tight. With heavy breathing and two pairs of hands carressing and rubbing all over our bodies, the dance ended with a high note and bursts of cum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember asking him to dance a few times but he was shy. This time he proved me wrong. Naked dance anyone?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-116295631907424770?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/116295631907424770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=116295631907424770&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116295631907424770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116295631907424770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/11/hot-nude-dance.html' title='Hot Nude Dance'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-116287171620458803</id><published>2006-11-06T11:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T11:58:23.356+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>What Is Protective Of Your Gem?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;What Is Protective Of Your Gem?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/playipodundies.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jay wanted an ipod a few months back but he contemplated on buying one because it would cost him a bomb. Not until recently, there's a promotion on ipod for a limited time only so he quickly grabbed the offer. He saved like two hundred ringgit but still, it costed a bomb. As he is away in another state for work a few days so I offered to collect the ipod on his behalf this Thursday. I know he can't wait for the machine (ahem, and my tool too). And that's why I have another surprise for him. I think the surprise gift will do him good since he's a clumsy boy and he needs the support and protection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consider it as a pre-birthday gift, Jay. Oh, and it's not another pair of underwear. That pic is just to distract you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-116287171620458803?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/116287171620458803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=116287171620458803&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116287171620458803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116287171620458803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/11/what-is-protective-of-your-gem.html' title='What Is Protective Of Your Gem?'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-116253502934043801</id><published>2006-11-03T14:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-03T14:23:49.366+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>I Told Them You're With Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;I Told Them You're With Me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went out with a gay couple the other day. Jay knows I've always wanted us to go out with people with similar interests so we all could mingle together and I believe there's always something new when we meet other gays instead of just us two going out all the time. It was an experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He called me two days before to tell me that his gym friend, Clint, asked if he had a boyfriend. He told him yes and for the first time, he asked Clint and his partner out for a movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;You've probably seen them before. Maybe just don't know them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cool, I thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And true enough, I've seen them around in the gym before. Two of us met with with Clint and Lex at the mall and then went for a movie...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-116253502934043801?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/116253502934043801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=116253502934043801&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116253502934043801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116253502934043801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/11/i-told-them-youre-with-me.html' title='I Told Them You&apos;re With Me'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-116126457062967079</id><published>2006-10-19T21:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-19T21:40:48.803+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>Hardwork to Pay Off?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Hardwork to Pay Off?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/guygift.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I received a call this morning from someone offering me a project. I've already got one in hand and I'm suppose to submit my first draft end of this month. To be honest I still have much to do on this current one. That's why I turned down the offer although the work offered is smaller in scale compared to the one I'm working on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told that to Jay and he insisted that I should take it up. I know offer like this don't always come easily but I also don't want to make empty promises and not deliver my work later. He understands that I have a lot to do and knows that I made the right choice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I need to really complete this project first Jay. Submission is by end of October!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tell you what, Kay. You work hard on it. Complete your work fast and I'll give you a secret gift.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I wonder what it is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, no time to ponder. I'm getting back to my work!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-116126457062967079?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/116126457062967079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=116126457062967079&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116126457062967079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116126457062967079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/10/hardwork-to-pay-off.html' title='Hardwork to Pay Off?'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-116073208501656236</id><published>2006-10-15T17:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-15T13:13:49.003+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cool Stuff'/><title type='text'>Ok, So Now I Know Many Older Men Are Attracted To You</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Ok, So Now I Know Many Older Men Are Attracted To You&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got this from &lt;a href="http://ashangelo.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-have-lived-through-62-of-these-99.html" target="_blank"&gt;Ash&lt;/a&gt;. Quite fun. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Instructions&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Put numbers in the boxes (eg: 1, 2, 3, 4,) and re-post this as "I have lived through _ of these 99 things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But instead of numbers, I've put it either J or K, or JK when both of us have done it. Got to know each other a little better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[JK] I have read a book before.&lt;br /&gt;[JK] I have run more than 2 miles without stopping.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I have been to Canada. &lt;br /&gt;[JK] I have been on some sort of sports team.&lt;br /&gt;[K] I have watched cartoons for hours before. &lt;br /&gt;[JK] I have tripped UP the stairs.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I have fallen down an entire flight of stairs.&lt;br /&gt;[J] I have been snowboarding/skiing. &lt;--- J fell got injured, bleed and then fainted.&lt;br /&gt;[K] I have played ping pong. &lt;br /&gt;[JK] I swam in the ocean.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I have been on a whale watch. &lt;br /&gt;[JK] I have seen fireworks.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I have seen a shooting star.&lt;br /&gt;[K] I have seen a meteor shower. &lt;--- I remember climbing on to the hostel rooftop to view.&lt;br /&gt;[J] I have almost drowned. &lt;br /&gt;[K] I have been so embarrassed I wanted to disappear.&lt;br /&gt;[JK] I have listened to one cd over &amp; over &amp; over again.  &lt;br /&gt;[J ] I have had stitch(es).  &lt;--- from the ski accident.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I have licked a frozen pole and got stuck there.&lt;br /&gt;[K] I have stayed up til 6am doing homework/projects. &lt;br /&gt;[J] I currently have a job.&lt;br /&gt;[K ] I have been ice skating.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I have been rollerblading.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I have fallen flat on my face.&lt;br /&gt;[K] I have tripped over my own two feet.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I have been in a fist fight.&lt;br /&gt;[K] I have played videogames/com for more than 3 hours straight. &lt;br /&gt;[JK] I have watched The Power Rangers before.&lt;br /&gt;[J] I do / have attended Sunday School regularly.&lt;br /&gt;[K] I have played truth or dare.&lt;br /&gt;[JK] I have already had my 16th birthday.&lt;br /&gt;[JK] I have already had my 17th birthday.&lt;br /&gt;[JK] I've called someone stupid. And meant it.&lt;br /&gt;[JK] I've been in a verbal argument.&lt;br /&gt;[K] I've cried in school. &lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've played basketball on a team.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've played softball on a team.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've played football on a team.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've played soccer on a team.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've done cheerleading on a team.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've swam on a team.&lt;br /&gt;[JK] I've been swimming more than 20 times in my life.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've bungee jumped.&lt;br /&gt;[K] I've climbed a rock wall before.&lt;br /&gt;[JK] I've lost more than $20.&lt;br /&gt;[JK] I've called myself an idiot.&lt;br /&gt;[JK] I've called someone else an idiot.&lt;br /&gt;[K] I've cried myself to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;[J] I've had (or have) pets.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've owned a Spice Girls cd, and/or tape.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've owned a Britney Spears cd.  &lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've owned an N*Sync cd.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've owned a Backstreet Boys cd.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've mooned someone.&lt;br /&gt;[J] I've sworn at someone in authority.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've been in the school newspaper /insights.&lt;br /&gt;[K] I've been on TV.&lt;br /&gt;[JK] I've eaten sushi.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've been on the other side of a waterfall.&lt;br /&gt;[JK] I've watched all of the Lord of the Rings movies.&lt;br /&gt;[K] I've watched all the Harry Potter movies.&lt;br /&gt;[JK] I've watched the 3 Stooges at least once.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've watched "Newlyweds" Nick &amp; Jessica.&lt;br /&gt;[JK] I've watched Looney Tunes before.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've been stuffed into a locker.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've been called a geek.  &lt;br /&gt;[JK] I've studied hard for a test and got a bad grade. &lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've not studied at all for a test and aced it. &lt;br /&gt;[JK] I've met a celebrity / music / TV artist.&lt;br /&gt;[JK] I've written poetry.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've been arrested.&lt;br /&gt;[K] I've been attracted to someone much older than me.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've been tickled till I've cried.  &lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've tickled someone else until they cried.&lt;br /&gt;[JK] I've had / have siblings.&lt;br /&gt;[J] I've been to a rock concert.  &lt;br /&gt;[JK] I've listened to classical music and enjoyed it.  &lt;br /&gt;[K] I've been in a play.  &lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've been picked last in gym class.  &lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've been picked first in gym class or so.&lt;br /&gt;[JK] Ive been picked in that middle-range in gym class.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've cried in front of my friends.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've read a book longer than 1,000 pages.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've freaked out over a sports game.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've vomited in public.  &lt;br /&gt;[J] I've washed someone else vomit.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I have ran away.&lt;br /&gt;[J] I've had a stalker.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've had a fight with someone on txt.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I've had a fight with someone face-to-face.&lt;br /&gt;[JK] I've been in a car accident.&lt;br /&gt;[K] I've forgiven someone who has done something bad to me.&lt;br /&gt;[J] I've personally seen someone die.&lt;br /&gt;[JK] I've been confronted by a police officer but got away. &lt;--hanky panky in the car parked in the park at night.&lt;br /&gt;[JK] I've lost someone who meant the world to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-116073208501656236?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/116073208501656236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=116073208501656236&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116073208501656236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116073208501656236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/10/ok-so-now-i-know-many-older-men-are.html' title='Ok, So Now I Know Many Older Men Are Attracted To You'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-116072159396437910</id><published>2006-10-13T14:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-13T14:47:17.796+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>DVD Night</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;DVD Night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I have downloaded the latest season of Survivor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The latest season?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, Survivor 13.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's watch it together tonight?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so I saved the first 3 episodes I had downloaded to the portable hard drive and brought it over to Jay's place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I can't wait to see the first three episodes. I haven't seen them, waiting to watch with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Huh? What do you mean first 3? I thought you said you had the whole season? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't. It's currently showing in the US and I can only download each episode week after week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Then I'm not watching it. You know I can't watch one episode and let the suspense hang there while I can't do anything about it. I prefer to have all the episodes so I can watch them back to back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which then brought us to the nearby DVD shop. He contemplated between Desperate Housewives Season 2 and Lost Season 2 but eventually chose the latter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sulking on the way back after he bought it. I wanted to watch the episodes I downloaded. I waited for him and that's why I didn't watch them as soon as I had them downloaded. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jay knew I wasn't happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the car, the radio started playing Ricky Martin's Livin La Vida Loca and that was when he started to dance the silliest and stupidest moves to the song. I tried not to be amused but I couldn't hold myself. He was constantly looking at me to see if I had cheered up. For a guy with such big ego to do a funny thing like that, it's not easy to come by. In fact I think it's almost as rare as a multiple orgasm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do that again okay? I wanna dance silly with you too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-116072159396437910?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/116072159396437910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=116072159396437910&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116072159396437910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/116072159396437910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/10/dvd-night.html' title='DVD Night'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115997814798066631</id><published>2006-10-05T00:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T01:21:03.240+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Naughty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cool Stuff'/><title type='text'>I Am Still Going To Buy Condoms</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;I Am Still Going To Buy Condoms&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went shopping for condoms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/playsafe.0.jpg'&gt; &lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/durexlove.jpg'&gt; &lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/madona.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got some questions but just too shy to ask the pharmacist. The salesgirls wouldn't know much anyway and there weren't any salesguys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/durexclosefit.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Durex Close Fit. It's definitly tighter and maybe thinner but how does it differ with Fetherlite? The latter is more transparent for sure. How's the feel?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/durextogether.jpg'&gt; &lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/durexcomfort.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Durex Together and Comfort. Both are ordinary standard quality condoms with just slight variations. While the former is just a regular condom, the later has more headroom and wider at the base. My question here is, does it really matter? Okay unless you have a big head and thick base. Haven't encountered that structure before though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/durexxtrasafe.jpg'&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Durex Extra Safe? Do we really need this? No one's getting pregnant anyway. Unless you're talking STD. Then again I think a regular Durex is enough for protection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/durexperforma.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Durex Performa. Of course the name suggest longer lasting lovemaking. The box says the rubber containing special lubricant benzocaine at the tip that helps delay climaxing. After reading the warning, I'm not so sure if I want to get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/durexribbed.jpg'&gt; &lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/durexsensation.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Durex Ribbed vs Sensation. The former has ribs covering the condom shaft. The latter has raised-dots. All in the name for extra pleasure and intensity. Unlike women, do men who take it in really feel the difference?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/durexselect.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there is Durex Select, offering colourful and flavoured condoms for the extra fun. Too bad only banana, orange and strawberry flavours. What about watermelon, kiwi and mango? I still think they taste very fake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many to choose from. I wanted one pack each and each pack has 3. I know I need sex very frequent and my partner better be highly sex-driven. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No point asking around I guess, the best solution is to try them myself and see the difference, if any.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/ansellbareback.jpg'&gt; &lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/ansellexotica.jpg'&gt; &lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/ansellrough.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the other end of the shelf... Ansell's condoms come in Bareback, Exotica and Rough Rider. How come it's so hard to find images of sexy men on the packaging? Better still, how about images of men together?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went shopping for condoms yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently this is the latest product from Durex&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/durexpleasuremax.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maximum pleasure anyone?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115997814798066631?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115997814798066631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115997814798066631&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115997814798066631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115997814798066631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/10/i-am-still-going-to-buy-condoms.html' title='I Am Still Going To Buy Condoms'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115955225112653081</id><published>2006-09-29T20:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-30T02:08:18.026+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Specials'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cool Stuff'/><title type='text'>Going To Buy Condoms Tomorrow</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Going To Buy Condoms Tomorrow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/formulae.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think of a number from 1 to 9. Multiply it by 9. Then add 6. Divide by 3 after that. Then minus 2. And add again to the number you thought just now. Lastly, divide it again by the number you thought just now. You now have a special number.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115955225112653081?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115955225112653081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115955225112653081&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115955225112653081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115955225112653081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/09/going-to-buy-condoms-tomorrow.html' title='Going To Buy Condoms Tomorrow'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115946112876964842</id><published>2006-09-28T12:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-29T01:11:22.810+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Jay'/><title type='text'>Kathy Bates Wannabe And Misery To Come</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Kathy Bates Wannabe And Misery To Come&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/gettingpopular.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You get fanmails when you are popular. People recognise you when you go up the stage. Everywhere you go, they shout for you and snap your pictures. Okay, that's too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jay is doing well with his part time job. He met many people, men and ladies alike, everytime. He has to be friendly and modest. People approach him and say nice things to him. That makes him a happy boy. But recently, there's this female coming into his life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you a story. A short one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jay called me last night to tell me about her. Apparently she has been stalking him. The lastest incident had her calling Jay to tell him that she's waiting outside near his house and she's soaking wet because it's raining that time. She called previously but Jay refused to answer her calls. Then he had no choice but to go out and look for her. She was found waiting in her car parked nearby. The only thing wet was her car. When Jay asked why she was doing there, she said she needed him to show her directions to a particular place, which was located just less than 15 minutes away and easily accessed via the highway!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's constantly asking him to go out. At nights mostly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She wants him to fetch her here and there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Worse, she identifies herself as an angel to Jay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Come, let Jay's angel give you a kiss.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eww. Jay actually let her pecked his cheek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once she messaged him and asked him to call her back urgently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Please call me back. Urgent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He called her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;What is it? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't sleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wtf?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She calls him endlessly, she's unpredictable, never take no as an answer and that's because Jay's still pretty accomodating. She lies to get attention. She's definitely a stalker. Is she snooping around? I don't know yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She probably has been in weird relationships. These are signs she's crazy. Like the guy who's all crazy over me on the phone but that's another story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's good to have people wanting you. It's good to have the attention but when it's like this situation you gotta be very careful, Jay. Hell hath no fury like a woman stalker scorned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Edit: Minutes after this post is up, she was outside his house crying and pulling Jay's shirt, throwing tantrums and all. You need help, Jay]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115946112876964842?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115946112876964842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115946112876964842&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115946112876964842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115946112876964842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/09/kathy-bates-wannabe-and-misery-to-come.html' title='Kathy Bates Wannabe And Misery To Come'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115884187707589262</id><published>2006-09-22T20:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-22T01:35:58.530+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>Still Trying</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Still Trying&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometime I think that one day this blog will come to an end. Sometime I think too hard about what to write everyday but still not able to &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;come &lt;/span&gt;out with anything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hence I decided to do some changes to this blog. Not much of a big change because I want to retain its original concept so you might not see any difference now. Perhaps if you compare it with the older template, then can see the slight changes. This blog has darker hues now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/320/storyofjayandkayver1.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of late, I know the frequency of me posting is getting lesser, since 6 months ago when the unthinkable happened. Life, in general, is okay. I'm still looking for a better job while doing some freelance work. A few months without income and yet there is still expenditure is taking a toll on me. I've done a few part time jobs, quite pathetic actually when compared to what I used to work, it's almost degrading. But still, a job is still a job as long as I don't kill or go against the law. (No, selling my ass is against the law here)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love life? My friend Edgar just asked me that. I told him this: &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Doing good. Progressing well. &lt;/span&gt;I have expectations but I learned not to expect too much anymore. I'll just do my part and hope for the best. Of course it takes two to tango in a relationship but I'm not going to force him to dance if he doesn't want to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/320/backtogether.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's about it. Something from my heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes, I don't think I'm ready to let go this blog yet. And it's still going to remain a 18+ rated blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/320/adult18plus.jpg'&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115884187707589262?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115884187707589262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115884187707589262&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115884187707589262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115884187707589262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/09/still-trying.html' title='Still Trying'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115812073667196084</id><published>2006-09-13T12:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T00:45:51.890+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Specials'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blog News'/><title type='text'>One Tenth of A Million</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;One Tenth of A Million&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Story of Jay and Kay hits 100,000 page views.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/320/100khits.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you guys!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115812073667196084?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115812073667196084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115812073667196084&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115812073667196084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115812073667196084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/09/one-tenth-of-million.html' title='One Tenth of A Million'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115808258711638251</id><published>2006-09-13T01:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T02:45:06.266+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cool Stuff'/><title type='text'>How Does He Score?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;How Does He Score?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got this from the local newspaper and decided to tweak it for some fun. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, is the boy you're dating the right one for you? Below are 15 questions to help you find out if your boy treats you well and if you're like what L'Oreal says: Because you're worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. How does he make you feel when you're around him?&lt;br /&gt;a) Like I'm important but he doesn't like to show affection. &lt;br /&gt;b) Like he can care less that I'm right here with him. He's not even interested in sex.&lt;br /&gt;c) Like I'm just the only one in the world and even my booger fascinates him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. How are the communications skills between the two of you?&lt;br /&gt;a) We communicate better on the phone and over the internet chat but when it comes to face-to-face I don't quite feel it.&lt;br /&gt;b) He barely communicates, even the mute and deaf understand me better.&lt;br /&gt;c) We talk everyday and he understand me like how I understand what he likes during sex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. If you were to make him mad, how would he react?&lt;br /&gt;a) He would just go into his own little world and give me the silent treatment.&lt;br /&gt;b) He would yell at me at the top of his lungs.&lt;br /&gt;c) He would try to talk to me about why he's mad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Is he someone who you could be yourself with?&lt;br /&gt;a) Always. No doubt.&lt;br /&gt;b) No, I can't. (Okay, maybe sometimes.)&lt;br /&gt;c) Yes, I can. I can even dress as a drag queen, &lt;i&gt;if&lt;/i&gt; I ever like dressing like one and he still likes me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Does he get along with your parents and friends?&lt;br /&gt;a) They really haven't met him; he doesn't want to meet them.&lt;br /&gt;b) No, they don't get along.&lt;br /&gt;c) My friends have met him. My parents, no. I'm not that ready yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. What do the both of you do when you are alone?&lt;br /&gt;a) We are rarely alone in the room. He doesn't want me to sleep over.&lt;br /&gt;b) We do our own stuff. I masturbate, he watches. Then he falls asleep.&lt;br /&gt;c) We cuddle up while talking to each other. Sometimes followed by sex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. How does he treat you in public when you two are alone?&lt;br /&gt;a) Like I'm just one of the guys. Nothing special.&lt;br /&gt;b) Like...dirt?&lt;br /&gt;c) We walk side by side, sometimes with his arm over my shoulder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. When his gay friends are around, he treats you like...&lt;br /&gt;a) There's no reason for me to be around his friends. He doesn't want them to know me, for reasons I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;b) I'm a stranger and sometimes he makes fun of me and he apologizes after that. &lt;br /&gt;c) I'm still important and he wants my friends to treat me like I'm his boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Does he flirt around with other guys?&lt;br /&gt;a) Not sure, but I know that his eyes wander sometimes. When he spots someone with a great body or a handsome guy, he tells me about it.&lt;br /&gt;b) No, he doesn't. But as soon as I'm away, he asks another guy out.&lt;br /&gt;c) No, he doesn't. Even if it is his job to be friendly with the public.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. If you were to tell him that you didn't like something he did, he would...&lt;br /&gt;a) Say okay and change the conversation topic. Apology is only an option.&lt;br /&gt;b) Say I'm picking on him for no reason and tell that he doesn't like to be nagged.&lt;br /&gt;c) Listen attentively and promise not to repeat again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. When you guys go out who gets the bill?&lt;br /&gt;a) Sometime he gets it, sometime he makes me get it.&lt;br /&gt;b) He gets it but complains after that.&lt;br /&gt;c) We split the bill but he pays for it most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. When you decide on something is it a joint effort?&lt;br /&gt;a) He asks for my opinion but he still wants it his way.&lt;br /&gt;b) He calls the shots all the time.&lt;br /&gt;c) Yes, all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13.Does he take the trouble to do nice things for you?&lt;br /&gt;a) He used to.&lt;br /&gt;b) Nice things are troublesome for him because he says he isn't crafty.&lt;br /&gt;c) He calls to wake me up in the morning on the day of my important presentation. He helps to tidy up my room when I'm away for work for a week. He writes email to me to say 'I love you'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Does he include you in all his plans?&lt;br /&gt;a) Last minute, maybe.&lt;br /&gt;b) Plans?&lt;br /&gt;c) Of course. All the time. In advanced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. How often do you both have romantic holidays?&lt;br /&gt;a) Not since he became busy with his career and tight schedule.&lt;br /&gt;b) Cruise? We don't even dine at 'The Ship' for our anniversary. Oh yeah, he forgot.&lt;br /&gt;c) Often enough. He even dubbed our usual weekend stay over as 'Nights of the Candlelights'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If your answers are mostly:&lt;br /&gt;(a)s ...this is not easy. Please see a counselor.&lt;br /&gt;(b)s consider ditching him. He doesn't seem to care or have any interest in you.&lt;br /&gt;(c)s  he's The One. Even better than Neo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115808258711638251?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115808258711638251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115808258711638251&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115808258711638251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115808258711638251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/09/how-does-he-score.html' title='How Does He Score?'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115782552267791759</id><published>2006-09-12T18:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-12T01:26:34.463+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>Kill Bills</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Kill Bills&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the time of the month. No, not about periods. Every month about this time, all my bills come pouring in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/indebt.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Credit cards, insurance, internet, phone bills plus a gym membership.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They sure know how to arrive together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I still spend lavishly on food. Going to the movies so often, like once or twice weekly. With a housing loan in hand and study loan in debt, I seriously need to set up a personal budget plan. Any &lt;s&gt;hot male&lt;/s&gt; financial planner out there?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115782552267791759?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115782552267791759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115782552267791759&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115782552267791759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115782552267791759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/09/kill-bills.html' title='Kill Bills'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115761215863038259</id><published>2006-09-07T14:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-07T15:16:10.233+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>Action And Reaction</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Action And Reaction&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/arms.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever told someone close to you like your parents or guardian or perhaps your spouse or loved ones that you are going out with someone you just knew recently and suddenly they become distressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told him that I'd be going for dinner with Edgar last night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I'm having dinner with Edgar tonight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First he was curious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Who is Edgar?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;A gym friend of mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then followed by another question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Why is he asking you out?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told him it's just a meal with a friend whom I've not seen for some time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just a dinner with a friend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then he immediately put on his best suit, combed his hair and said with a gleaming smile:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Can we go out for dinner?&lt;br /&gt;Let me invite you out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sweet! But I had a close relative visiting last night and my mom wanted me to be home early so no dinner invitation for me. Bummer!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115761215863038259?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115761215863038259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115761215863038259&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115761215863038259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115761215863038259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/09/action-and-reaction.html' title='Action And Reaction'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115739157601365251</id><published>2006-09-05T01:25:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T01:44:10.256+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>You Know I Miss You A Bit Too</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;You Know I Miss You A Bit Too&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The handsome one disrupted my nap this late morning with the news of the sudden demise of Animal Planet's Croc Hunter, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steve_Irwin" open="_blank"&gt;Steve Irwin&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Steve Irwin the crocodile hunter already dead. Attacked by an octopus.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I laughed. He made me laugh again. The last time the joke was about some reptile we watched on Animal Planet(again!). I read about the news about Steve earlier on the internet and I knew it wasn't an octopus so I corrected him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a sting ray, my dear. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn't reply me after that. I guessed he must be embarassed. I know he can be pretty shy for a man with such strong arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later at night, just right after my dinner, he called and sounded pretty upset when he said to me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Why didn't you call me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ooohhh, did he just say he miss me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115739157601365251?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115739157601365251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115739157601365251&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115739157601365251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115739157601365251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/09/you-know-i-miss-you-bit-too_05.html' title='You Know I Miss You A Bit Too'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115657762996738026</id><published>2006-08-26T15:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-26T17:29:28.393+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cool Stuff'/><title type='text'>Better Than Sex?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Better Than Sex?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this far from our ideal workplace environment ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've heard about the benefits and how this company takes care its employees' welfare. But to this extend? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to Google.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Google's HQ, otherwise known as Googleplex, is situated in California in Silicon Valley. Throughout the corridors between the four buildings, there are all sorts of Google memorabilia on display. They even employ guides who specialize in explaining Google's history to people. There are lava lamps everywhere, as well as free coke and candy all over the place. They've also got huge multicoloured exercise balls everywhere. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/googlememo.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Employees' workspaces are full of individuality, and the atmosphere is relaxed. There are couches everywhere. People can have a lie down when they need to take a break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/googlerelax.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Google's staff loves sports. The big guns often have meetings at the pool table or in the corridors. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/googlemeet.jpg'&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The casual atmosphere in Googleplex can be demonstrated by the fact that staff can bring their pets to work, and the pets are allowed to wander around the office. Heaps of people have pets at Googleplex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/googlepets2.jpg'&gt; &lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/googlepets1.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a rule within Googleplex: that there must be food within 100 feet of every employee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was once an engineer who felt a bit ripped off about that rule because his nearest food counter was 120 feet away, so he asked for the error to be corrected, tongue in cheek. The relevant department replied: "There's a restaurant right above your desk, and you're definitely less than 100 feet from that one."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/googlefood.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's free food all over the place, it looks almost like a supermarket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/googlesnacks.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And chocolates!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/googlechoc.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This looks more like a toyshop than a workspace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/googlepersonal.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rumor has it that a dude who had just joined Google had not been able to find a flat, so he lived at Googleplex for a month. He lived a lot better than Tom Hanks in The Terminal. Meals are provided, couches everywhere, there are showers in the bathrooms, a gym and a swimming pool. There are even pianos in music rooms you could use. Better than the facilities at home! The dude didn't leave Googleplex for a month straight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/320/googledesk.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/googledesk.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, look at those posters behind the guy. Google is a place of equal opportunity. Google embraces diversity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it's all fun and games too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/googlefun.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's also a free laundry room for use for the staff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/googlelaundry.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Google coming to Kuala Lumpur anytime soon? I can be contacted by email for my CV.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115657762996738026?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115657762996738026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115657762996738026&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115657762996738026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115657762996738026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/08/better-than-sex.html' title='Better Than Sex?'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115616647107445855</id><published>2006-08-20T20:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-21T21:23:10.576+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>104' Fahrenheit</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;104'F&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After almost 7 days staying in at home, mostly on the bed and the couch, I feel much better now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time to get up and get back on track.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115616647107445855?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115616647107445855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115616647107445855&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115616647107445855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115616647107445855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/08/104-fahrenheit.html' title='104&apos; Fahrenheit'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115528044545343282</id><published>2006-08-11T12:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-11T18:45:33.476+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>How About Cute?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;How About Cute?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/yahooavatar.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have but rarely log on to other messengers. We always use MSN Messenger. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I requested a mp3 file from him and he tried to send over via file transfer on the messenger many times but failed everytime halfway through. At times the file didn't even want to start transfering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so I suggested that we use Yahoo!Messenger instead. I know, at least from my past experience, that it's pretty speedy with Yahoo!.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We logged on to our respective messengers and I sent him a hi!. He saw my avatar and that was when he said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;woow! SUDDENLY U become so &lt;u&gt;handsome&lt;/u&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not sure about the irregular caps used when he typed, but how often you have someone calling you handsome?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115528044545343282?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115528044545343282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115528044545343282&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115528044545343282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115528044545343282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/08/how-about-cute.html' title='How About Cute?'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115471621645451881</id><published>2006-08-05T02:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-05T02:39:12.940+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>Obliques</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Obliques&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is whose?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/abs1-1.jpg'&gt; 2.&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/abs21.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/abs31.jpg'&gt; 4.&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/abs41.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/abs51.jpg'&gt; 6.&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/abs61.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/abs91.jpg'&gt; 8.&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/abs81.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/abs71.jpg'&gt; 10.&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/abs101.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11.&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/abs111.jpg'&gt; 12.&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/abs121.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13.&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #666666; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/abs131.jpg'&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115471621645451881?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115471621645451881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115471621645451881&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115471621645451881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115471621645451881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/08/obliques.html' title='Obliques'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115443357332740644</id><published>2006-08-01T19:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-01T20:03:58.290+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>Still Shy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Still Shy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A very good friend of mine took the day off today to run some important errands. We headed to Taipan for brunch and then he went to register for a new postpaid plan. The male customer service officer who greeted us served us extremely well and more than that, he had his eyes glued on us. I don't think my friend realised that because he was on the phone. My friend was in a sleeveless tee and I wore a singlet. I filled up the application form for him and everytime I asked for assistance from the officer he would answer promptly and friendly and speak nothing more but I know his eyes were wandering. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we took a number and waited to be called. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tv in front of us was showing Animal Planet and we watched the camera zoomed in onto the monitor lizard's skin and then to its long tail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;You dare touch it?&lt;/span&gt; I asked him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;No way man. Icky.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;You're from the same family like him too ya know?&lt;/span&gt; I told him referring to his zodiac.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Funny. You're. I'm not. I'm a homosapien. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I almost thought he was going to say homosexual. Aloud. In the waiting area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;They like to eat meat ya know? Like you.&lt;/span&gt; I tried to tease him again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Huh?&lt;/span&gt; And he showed me a confused face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Oh my god. You think they eat grass and leaves?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He gave me a serious look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;You can't be kidding.&lt;/span&gt; I joked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Shut up! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kept quiet after that but it was funny. I think he had fun talking to me too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115443357332740644?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115443357332740644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115443357332740644&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115443357332740644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115443357332740644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/08/still-shy.html' title='Still Shy'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115426401478403199</id><published>2006-07-30T20:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-30T21:23:44.966+08:00</updated><title type='text'>How Deep Is Your Love?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;How Deep Is Your Love?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You, yes you there gorgeous, are driving a car. It was late at night and there is a heavy thunderstorm. You're passing a station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There're three people waiting there for someone to pass by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. An old lady who is dying.&lt;br /&gt;2. A doctor who once saved your life before.&lt;br /&gt;3. The guy you once loved, still love and decide to be with forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can only take one passenger, who will you choose? And why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wanna know my answer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Edit: Okay, let's raise the stakes. make this a once in a lifetime opportunity. You, gorgeous, get to see all three of them only this time in your entire lifetime.]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115426401478403199?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115426401478403199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115426401478403199&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115426401478403199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115426401478403199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/07/how-deep-is-your-love.html' title='How Deep Is Your Love?'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115361840268676641</id><published>2006-07-23T09:26:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-23T09:33:22.690+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>The Soup Was Excellent</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;The Soup Was Excellent&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lunch on Friday was good. Invited a few close college friends over for 90 minutes of lunch and talk. Had a good time catching up with each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/fridaylunch.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Added Minestrone to the menu!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the washup...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/fridaylunch1.jpg'&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115361840268676641?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115361840268676641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115361840268676641&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115361840268676641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115361840268676641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/07/soup-was-excellent.html' title='The Soup Was Excellent'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115339141668093479</id><published>2006-07-20T18:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-20T18:36:55.446+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Jay'/><title type='text'>Your Scott Is Loose</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Your Scott Is Loose&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I'm about to tell is based on a true story that happened this afternoon at a nearby Giant hypermarket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three friends, two guys and a female, entered the hypermarket after having their lunch to enjoy the cool air-conditioning there as the weather outside was sunny and very hot. They walked and talked for a few minutes before the Cute Girl with Economical Thoughts turned into the toiletries aisle and both the guys followed suit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was about time to leave and return to the office when the three of them saw a pile of toilet paper stacked up high at one corner and they stopped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Cute Girl with Economical Thoughts grabbed a pack of Cutie Compact Toilet Paper, very excited and told the two guys:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Wow, it's just less than RM5.00! So cheap. You can't get this price elsewhere.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being human we are, we are bound to contribute our ideas too, even though on matters like toilet paper. So one of the guys, the Easy-Going Plump Geek, came closer to the stack of toilet paper, stood nearer to the Cute Girl with Economical Thoughts and said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Oh, I use this brand at home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he pointed to another pack of toilet paper next to the one she just grabbed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;You use Scott Toilet Paper?&lt;/span&gt; Cute Girl with Economical Thoughts asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Yes.&lt;/span&gt; Easy-going Plump Geek answered immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;But it's expensive, ya know.&lt;/span&gt; Cute Girl with Economical Thoughts complained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Expensive but it's soft to wipe. Not unlike some cheap brands.&lt;/span&gt; Easy-Going Plump Geek interjected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;No...you should try Cutie Compact. Not only it's cheap now, I mean...look at the price, it's also soft and most important- it's compact! You feel and see...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Easy-Going Plump Geek listened to her obligingly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;See, your Scott is loose.&lt;/span&gt; Cute Girl with Economical Thoughts continued with the argument.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Okay, you go tell my mom. She buys toilet paper for our home.&lt;/span&gt; Easy-Going Plump Geek replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whilst the discussion on the best and cost effective toilet paper was going on between the two of them, the Handsome, Sexy and No-Fuss Guy just stood there watching them in a talk which seemed endless and not heading anywhere. None of them wanted to buy the toilet paper and they were just wasting time talking on petty things. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, come on...life is so much more than just toilet paper right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Handsome, Sexy and No-Fuss Guy waited a little more but the other two were still engrossed with their discussion and comparison. He became impatient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then without hesitation, he &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;butted&lt;/span&gt; in their conversation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Eh, no need to compare anymore. Cutie Compact or Scott, they're not as good the brand I use at home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course the Cute Girl with Economical Thoughts and Easy-Going Plump Geek were surprised by his words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;So what brand do you use?&lt;/span&gt; Both asked simultaneously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I use this brand!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Handsome, Sexy and No-Fuss Guy took out his &lt;u&gt;bare left hand&lt;/u&gt; and displayed it proudly to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All three of them almost died laughing after that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115339141668093479?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115339141668093479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115339141668093479&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115339141668093479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115339141668093479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/07/your-scott-is-loose.html' title='Your Scott Is Loose'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115321995776469525</id><published>2006-07-18T18:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-18T19:10:20.916+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>The Topless Chef?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;The Topless Chef?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the menu this Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/jkchef.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Pasta Carbonara&lt;br /&gt;~Vanilla White Mudslide Ice-cream &lt;sup&gt;TM&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Shanky-Sphanky Shandy &lt;sup&gt;TM&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sending out invites tonight and groceries shopping tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is fun!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115321995776469525?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115321995776469525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115321995776469525&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115321995776469525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115321995776469525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/07/topless-chef.html' title='The Topless Chef?'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115277197670732086</id><published>2006-07-17T12:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-18T00:00:26.920+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Specials'/><title type='text'>My Dear Friends In Turkey</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;My Dear Friends In Turkey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To &lt;a href="http://www.casualinistanbul.com" target="_blank"&gt;Ali &amp; Mehmet&lt;/a&gt;. It's great to know you guys since day 1. Best online buddy eh? Happy 1st Blog Anniversary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href='http://www.pimpampum.net/bubblr/?id=5088'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="400" height="180"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.pimpampum.net/bubblr/bubblr_blog.swf?id=5089"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.pimpampum.net/bubblr/bubblr_blog.swf?id=5089" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="400" height="180"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy 1st to Casual in Istanbul&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115277197670732086?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115277197670732086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115277197670732086&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115277197670732086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115277197670732086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/07/my-dear-friends-in-turkey.html' title='My Dear Friends In Turkey'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115290418992065086</id><published>2006-07-15T03:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-17T13:02:19.396+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Specials'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>Not Sure What Else</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Not Sure What Else&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Days after days I've been wondering what to blog about but came up with nothing and just now I thought why not put up some random pictures?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/klcc.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/pangkr.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weird looking anal probe  |  Believe me, this was a Benz we drove&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/back.0.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/outdoor.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Random pic, this?  |  Who? Me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/exam.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/projt2.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sneaking out exam questions  |  Don't you know how to focus, peabrain?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/projt3.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/projt1.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rendezvous  |  Eat this everyday and die of cancer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/projt.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/pearlpnt.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like sausages best  |  Dim Sum, again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/tmnamn.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/room.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lousy shot by amatuer photographer  |  Everlasting eternity? Fairytale, yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/room1.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/P1010221.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;X'mas in Hawaii  |  Gay duo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/house.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/frim.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steps to the harem  |  Bigdick(head) sightings&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/room3.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/room2.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I waited until 5am for this  |  The Strap&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/gntg.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/car.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paying Tribute  |  En route to Wangsa Maju&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/alorstr.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/pangkr1.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to Alor Star  |  Shocking Big Ass&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Updated: Captions&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115290418992065086?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115290418992065086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115290418992065086&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115290418992065086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115290418992065086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/07/not-sure-what-else.html' title='Not Sure What Else'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115229263141497672</id><published>2006-07-08T01:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-08T01:17:11.416+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Kay'/><title type='text'>I'm Not Forcing But Do Give A Try</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;I'm Not Forcing But Do Give A Try&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everybody's getting hitched nowadays. &lt;br /&gt;You, him and him. And he too.&lt;br /&gt;Always happy to see others happy. &lt;br /&gt;I guess I just need to persevere.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115229263141497672?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115229263141497672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115229263141497672&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115229263141497672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115229263141497672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/07/im-not-forcing-but-do-give-try.html' title='I&apos;m Not Forcing But Do Give A Try'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115209728755495674</id><published>2006-07-05T18:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-05T19:07:30.740+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Lives'/><title type='text'>Hisses At Night</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Hisses At Night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the web:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Snakes &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;emerging out of the ground&lt;/span&gt; may represent your unconscious or repressed materials coming to your conscious mind. Freud thought that the snake was a phallic symbol. Most snake dreams seem to be disturbing and they leave the dreamer feeling anxious and afraid. There are no simple interpretations to snake dreams. Each dreamer must consider their own situation and all of the details of the dream. Sometimes they represent negativity in our lives that hampers our progress and constantly threatens us. In the long run the snake may be a positive symbol; it may represent difficulties that lead us to the center of personality and result in feelings of completeness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In its psychological interpretation a snake in your dream is a phallic symbol, and to dream of one, especially if it was coiled around you, or otherwise on your body, is a warning that you may be a slave to either your sexual passions or repression. However, according to the oracles, snakes in a dream are warnings of various troubles, obstacles, or treachery. Of course the colors and other details must be carefully considered, but as a general rule: to dream that you were bitten by one portends a period of struggle against unfortunate circumstances, and if it was a cobra, it carries a special warning to guard against accidents in the following few weeks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If your dream featured a snake wound around you which you could not throw off, you are being warned to expect treachery where you least suspect it. To dream of being surrounded and unable to kill more than one or two indicates that you are in danger of being seriously cheated by someone you trust, but if you &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;managed to kill (or get rid of) them all&lt;/span&gt;, it is a sign that you will succeed in spite of any hostile opposition; to walk over snakes without trying to kill them suggests that you will, in the end, actually turn the tables on those who are trying to block your way. To dream of playfully handling snakes suggests that you are in danger of being led astray by unprincipled friends or associates; and if your dream featured a professional snake charmer at work, it indicates that you will have to defend your reputation against malicious gossip.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More from the web:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. An ancient symbol of transmutation. The dreamer will soon undergo a vast inner change that will be reflected in her outer life. If the dream is a positive and uplifting one, then good times are ahead. If the dream is a &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;scary one&lt;/span&gt;, the times ahead may still be good ones, but the dreamer needs to be very careful of pitfalls along the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. An even more ancient symbol for the Great Goddess. If the dreamer is a woman, then she will soon come into realization of her power as a woman. If the &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;dreamer is a man&lt;/span&gt;, especially if he is single, a very powerful and exciting woman will soon come into his life-though she may not be a potential love partner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay so my dream last night was about two giant snakes a male and a female, not sure what type of snake though, emerging from the ground. They seemed to be mating that time and I trespassed their territory and both got pissed and came after me. There a few people around. I ran into a hut, I think, everyone else followed too and chaos ensued. I climbed onto the rooftop and the two snakes got to where I was too but somehow in the end I survived the ordeal but no one else seemed to be around. I woke up in the morning with the dream in mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked him, the one with the zodiac of a snake, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;do you think it's got anything to do with you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I don't know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115209728755495674?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115209728755495674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115209728755495674&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115209728755495674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115209728755495674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/07/hisses-at-night.html' title='Hisses At Night'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115181019764968222</id><published>2006-07-04T00:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-03T18:38:58.580+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Enhancing Relationships</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Enhancing Relationships&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;TRUST&lt;/span&gt; is a very important factor for all relationships. Lack of trust leads to suspicion, suspicion generates anger, anger causes enmity and enmity may result in separation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A telephone operator told me that one day she received a phone call.   She answered, "Public Utilities Board." There was silence. She repeated, "PUB." There was still no answer. When she was going to cut off the line, she heard a lady's voice, "Oh, so this is PUB. Sorry, I got the number from my husband's pocket but I do not know whose number it is." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without mutual trust, just imagine what will happen to the couple if the telephone operator answered with just "hello" instead of "PUB". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Right Speech&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a Chinese saying which carries the meaning that "A speech will either prosper or ruin a nation." Many relationships suffer because of wrong speech. When a couple is too close with each other we always forget mutual respect and courtesy. We may say anything without considering if it would hurt the other party. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend and her millionaire husband visited their construction site. A worker who wore a helmet saw her and shouted, "Hi, Emily! Remember me? We used to date in the secondary school." On the way home, her millionaire husband teased her, "Luckily you married me. Otherwise you will be the wife of a construction worker." She answered ,"You should appreciate that you married me. Otherwise, he will be the millionaire and not you." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frequently exchanging these remarks plants the seed for a bad relationship. It's like a broken egg - cannot be reversed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;No Overpowering&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many relationships fail because one party tries to overpower another, or demands too much. People in love tend to think that love will conquer all and their spouses will change the bad habits after marriage. Actually, this is not the case. There is also another saying which carries the meaning that "It is easier to reshape a mountain or a river than a person's character." It is not easy to change. Thus, having high expectation on changing the spouse character will cause disappointment and unpleasantness. It would be less painful to change ourselves and lower our expectations.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Creating Perfect Relationships?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A person visited the government matchmaker for marriage, and requested "I am looking for a spouse. Please help me to find a suitable one." The officer said, "Your requirements, please." "Oh, good looking, polite, humorous , sporty, knowledgeable, good in singing and dancing. Willing to accompany me the whole day at home during my leisure hour, if I don't go out. Telling me interesting stories when I need companion for conversation and be silent when I want to rest." The officer listened carefully and replied, "I understand you need television." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a saying that a perfect match can only be found between a blind wife and a deaf husband because the blind wife cannot see the faults of the husband and the deaf husband cannot hear the nagging of the wife. Many couples are blind and deaf at the courting stage and dream of perpetual perfect relationship. Unfortunately, when the excitement of love wears off, they wake up and discover that marriage is not a bed of roses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;No Pointing Fingers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man asked his father-in-law, "Many people praised you for a successful marriage. Could you please share with me your secret?" The father-in-law answered in a smile, "Never criticize your wife for her shortcomings or when she does something wrong. Always bear in mind that because of her shortcomings and weaknesses, she could not find a better husband than you." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all look forward to being loved and respected. Many people are afraid of losing face. Generally, when a person makes a mistake, he would look around to find a scapegoat to point the finger at. This is the start of a war. We should always remember that when we point one finger at a person, the other four fingers are pointing at ourselves. If we forgive others, others will ignore our mistake too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Personal Perceptions&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Different people have different perception. One man's meat could be another man's poison. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple bought a donkey from the market. On the way home, a boy commented, "Very stupid. Why neither of them ride on the donkey?“ Upon hearing that, the husband let the wife ride on the donkey. He walked besides them. Later, an old man saw it and commented, "The husband is the head of the family. How can the wife ride on the donkey while the husband is on foot?" Hearing this, the wife quickly got down and let the husband ride on the donkey. Further on the way home, they met an old Lady. She commented, "How can the man ride on the donkey but let the wife walk. He is no gentleman." The husband thus quickly asked the wife to join him on the donkey. Then, they met a young man. He commented, "Poor donkey, how can you hold up the weight of two persons. They are cruel to you." Hearing that, the husband and wife immediately climbed down from the donkey and carried it on their shoulders. It seems to be the only choice left. Later, on a narrow bridge, the donkey was frightened and struggled. They lost their balance and fell into the river. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can never have everyone praise you, nor will everyone condemn you. Never in the past, not at present, and never will be in the future. Thus, do not be too bothered by others words if our conscience is clear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Be patient&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a true story which happened in the States. A man came out of his home to admire his new truck. To his puzzlement, his three-year-old son was happily hammering dents into the shiny paint of the truck. The man ran to his son, knocked him away, hammered the little boy's hands into pulp as punishment. When the father calmed down, he rushed his son to the hospital. Although the doctor tried desperately to save the crushed bones, he finally had to amputate the fingers from both the boy's hands. When the boy woke up from the surgery &amp; saw his bandaged stubs, he innocently said, " Daddy, I'm sorry about your truck." Then he asked, "but when are my fingers going to grow back?" The father went home &amp; committed suicide. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think about this story the next time someone steps on your feet or you wish to take revenge. Think first before you lose your patience with someone you love. Trucks can be repaired. Broken bones &amp; hurt feelings often can't. Too often we fail to recognize the difference between the person and the performance. We forget that forgiveness is greater than revenge. People make mistakes. We are allowed to make mistakes but the actions we take while in a rage will haunt us forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Good Life starts only when you stop wanting a better One" &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;-original author unknown.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115181019764968222?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115181019764968222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115181019764968222&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115181019764968222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115181019764968222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/07/enhancing-relationships.html' title='Enhancing Relationships'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115177163185883133</id><published>2006-07-02T00:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-03T00:05:36.353+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Eros</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Dear Eros&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you think of wanting to call him and the moment after you press Call, your phone rings and you get an incoming call from him. Not only it happens once, but a couple of times, on different days. What is this called? Fate?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Updates: Again! I called him and he told me he was about halfway through typing me a text message to be sent to me when his phone rang.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115177163185883133?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115177163185883133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115177163185883133&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115177163185883133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115177163185883133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/07/dear-eros.html' title='Dear Eros'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11556782.post-115156385066738991</id><published>2006-06-29T13:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-29T15:00:49.526+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ahhhhhh......</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Ahhhhhh......&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome! This is a place for pure indulgence for the body and soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/towel.jpg'&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"With your needs as our highest priority, our staffs of skilled professionals are dedicated to providing you with much more than the usual day spa services. Our spa is a true oasis, a unique retreat for you to escape the rigors of daily stress and to replenish the body and soul."&lt;/blockquote&gt; ...I was told.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/spa.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An appointment was made a week earlier. I got there late morning and was the first client to be served. Spoke to the consultant and was then ushered to a cosy room. had my legs soaked first then undressed and put on a robe before climbing onto the bed for my first foot reflexology.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/footsoaking.jpg'&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/legreflex.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before the any massage is done, it's best to unwind oneself and get the muscle relaxed first so instead of a steam bath, I chose a jacuzzi instead. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/jacuzzi.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The spa even has a Couple Room, with twin bed for massage and a jacuzzi for two. If only I've brought a partner along...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dried myself and back to the room. I laid face down with only a towel over my butt and then comes the nitty gritty part. Full body scrub. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, my back...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/fullbodyscrub2.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then legs,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/fullbodyscrub.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;followed by my arms and chest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/fullbodyscrub1.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After cleansing the body, it was time for a stress relief massage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/backmassage2.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took about 45 minutes, from the back, legs, arms, chest and neck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/fullbodymassage.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Followed by a brief facial massage&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/facial.jpg'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and I was rejuvenated in the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/68/2737/200/relaxing.jpg'&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11556782-115156385066738991?l=storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/feeds/115156385066738991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11556782&amp;postID=115156385066738991&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115156385066738991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11556782/posts/default/115156385066738991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storiesofkayandjay.blogspot.com/2006/06/ahhhhhh.html' title='Ahhhhhh......'/><author><name>jayandkay</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry></feed>
