<?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-18387250</id><updated>2011-04-21T20:36:30.086-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I WILL SURVIVE</title><subtitle type='html'>I love life and what it offers. Share with me a journey. My journey. Come share with a smile.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Anu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11332056325190253661</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/153/8499/640/photo-3.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18387250.post-113116298492405493</id><published>2005-11-04T19:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-04T19:56:24.933-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Garden of eden</title><content type='html'>As we know now, I was obese.. As we know, we need exercise to stay slim…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever noticed (in India) after comin back from a party at 2.00 am,   people walkin on the road.. I often wonder where they’re headed!! They’re more visible at THAT HOUR coz during the day we have traffic to dodge, than notice these people who walk miles to reach their destination.. They walk coz they have no option, nor enough to eat each day……. I WALK coz I stuffed myself with too much food. I have a car, lots to eat but I NEED to walk.. Ah!! Life…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I visited the park close by. 15 min walk to it, 10 min jog and 15 min walk back… I feel good n refreshed… Listenin to Nelly Furtado’s ‘POWERLESS’ on the walkman {to keep me going).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time I visit the park I see a rainbow. Different nuances all around me. Old people, young people, and that guy in FUSCHIA pink… ha ha… his T shirt says DKNY, that he probably pronounces as donkey spelt wrong…. My mind!! Hell it wanders… then there are houses lining the park and I hear the pressure cooker whistle (10 times in 5 mins!!!)  and I smell muli parathas (Typical Punjabi breakfast, stuffed bread)….. Heaven help me 6.30 in the morning!!! How CAN anyone eat this stuff.. my tummy turns inside out….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This rainbow keeps me going and w/o realizing, my work out is done…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I also had something for my “Good deed book”. I stopped a kid from teasin a street dog. And there was a heavy girl walking, who I was admiring, for havin come out and get in shape… A girl after my own heart!! She had a sudden adrenalin rush and started to jog. Lasted just for 5 seconds, but she tried….. &lt;em&gt;Bravo girl!!! That’s the spirit&lt;/em&gt;, I was thinking, when I saw 2 boys, near the swings imitate her and laugh. I saw &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;red&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; walked right up to them and told the boy that he needed to look at the mirror before he commented on the girl. Maybe it was a mean thing to do, but it sure as hell felt good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Satisfied I’m back…. Back to my crutches…… Forcing the guy in the corner to stay still (and failin ;)) …… Happy that the heavy girl goes in my book with Pratap (Chole Kulche)….. Thinking of wearing my new skirt today..... Tummy still unsettled from the aroma of parathas….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Notice the rainbows around and have a nice day. Oh yeah!! Almost forgot….. SMILE :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18387250-113116298492405493?l=helluvachatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/feeds/113116298492405493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18387250&amp;postID=113116298492405493' title='27 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113116298492405493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113116298492405493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/2005/11/garden-of-eden.html' title='Garden of eden'/><author><name>Anu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11332056325190253661</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/153/8499/640/photo-3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>27</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18387250.post-113108129112545529</id><published>2005-11-03T21:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-04T02:49:15.213-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The ugly duckling</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/1600/Aaradhna%20After..0.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/1600/Aaradhna%20-%20Before..jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Oy moti&lt;/em&gt; (hey Fatso)!!!&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;That’s what my class mates used to call me in school.. I was SEVENTY FU**IN KILOS man!!! If not moti, then what else?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No guy was ever interested in me.. And did I care? Not much, as I had PLENTY male friends. I was a tom boy all thru…(still am in my brash, non carish ways). I used to solve boy girl problems.. though I MYSELF never had any.. No one even liked me.. I was disgusting 70 kilo girl.. &lt;em&gt;ewwwww&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s not that I didn’t have crushes on guys. But they never did take me as a girl. They were happy that I was one of them…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, after all these years, if ever I come across any old friend or class mate. Its SO great to look in their eyes and see them kicking themselves. FU*K.. Is she the SAME BIT*H??? Why the hell didn’t I…….????&lt;br /&gt;Most of em are pretty darn,&lt;em&gt; er, ah&lt;/em&gt;, how do I put it… &lt;em&gt;er&lt;/em&gt; FAT??? Hmm the guys are SURELY pregnant. Man you should see their 6mth. mature bellies.. he he he. And the girls..&lt;em&gt; er&lt;/em&gt; ‘women’ aren’t any better. What do you expect??? After all they ARE married… They re regular with their facials and pedicures!!!! Why do THEY need to maintain themselves??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its been a very difficult journey for me… battling practically ALL kinds of eating disorders.. binging, anorexia and worst of all bulimia……&lt;em&gt; Ech!! Ugh!! Ewwuuuuu!!!&lt;/em&gt; Well I did go thru all of that!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I can finally speak of it. Now, that I’m 57 kilos from the ghastly 70… Now, when people look at my pic and say &lt;strong&gt;HOT&lt;/strong&gt;.. Now, when I read posts like ‘Looks don't matter to me!’, &lt;strong&gt;I feel good&lt;/strong&gt;. Now, when I look into the mirror.. I say…. &lt;strong&gt;Hey not bad.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe not a swan.. but I turned out to be an ok lookin duck…Quack quack ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ye that’s me!!! That’s how I look ...… But I didn’t grow up like this. This wasn’t me for so&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;MANY&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;years. Somewhere inside.. deep down I AM SELF CONSCIOUS … Am I still the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#33ccff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;ugly duckling&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;???&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/18387250-113108129112545529?l=helluvachatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/feeds/113108129112545529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18387250&amp;postID=113108129112545529' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113108129112545529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113108129112545529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/2005/11/ugly-duckling.html' title='The ugly duckling'/><author><name>Anu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11332056325190253661</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/153/8499/640/photo-3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18387250.post-113099193055159494</id><published>2005-11-03T09:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-03T04:18:20.443-08:00</updated><title type='text'>20 questions</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/1600/Local%20pics%20005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 143px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 117px" height="198" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/320/Local%20pics%20005.jpg" width="210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/1600/IMG_0440.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/1600/new.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;What do I write about today&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Does '20 questions' count?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Who will help me know more on blogging? (nuff of this) &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/1600/IMG_0440.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Why are we happy when it rains? (It rained a bit in Delhi yesterday)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Why do we scream most at people we love most?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Should we take people at their face value?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Can we ever stop loving our first love? (lotsa people scrutinize me over “THE CORNER”)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;How much make up is good?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Is technical better than creative?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;‘Mind speak’ or ‘heart speak’?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Is fame overrated?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mountains or beaches?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;What if god was one of us?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Is everything fair in love and war?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Is blood thicker than water?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sports cars or power bikes? ;)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Is true love better than a steady marriage?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do you switch off your mobile when you go to bed?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Would you pick up the phone while making love?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Would you bathe every single day when it’s snowing?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;What if you were the last person on earth?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Writing your heart or getting a FAT paycheck?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Saris or skirts?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;· Will you try and smile, even after this torture?&lt;br /&gt;· How will anyone comment? (Just wondering!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18387250-113099193055159494?l=helluvachatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/feeds/113099193055159494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18387250&amp;postID=113099193055159494' title='26 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113099193055159494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113099193055159494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/2005/11/20-questions.html' title='20 questions'/><author><name>Anu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11332056325190253661</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/153/8499/640/photo-3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>26</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18387250.post-113090706302629793</id><published>2005-11-02T10:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-03T21:23:46.076-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Crutches</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/1600/sign1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/320/sign1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I used to write a dairy as a kid and as a teenager. Every single day I wrote. Writing was my friend, my expression, my crutch.&lt;br /&gt;Then I had my Teddy…. He never said anything against me. He listened to me and hugged me when I cried. (Yes I had a teddy till 3 years back J). I stopped writing. I had a new crutch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;We meet new people every day. Communication made it easy… Internet made is EASIER. It’s beautiful, how we make bonds, get to know each other and pass our time.&lt;br /&gt;One off chance is to meet a person you click with INSTANTLY… &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Hey dude!! Are you for real??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Minutes turn into hours and the chat gets more and more interesting…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Hey you got more pics… ya ya send em babe… hey you look kewl dude… blah blah….. you wanna tell everything and know everything… you love the same drinks. You love expressing. Alter egos man!! Dying to meet ya!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;On and on it goes. And you re spending time chattin, laughin, encouraging and sharing. I don’t need crutches.. but wait a min. This IS a crutch.&lt;br /&gt;B coz, one day, you go to a party and you meet some one.. some one REAL!!! Oh he’s so charming and handsome, and hey the guy on the internet is jus a friend ay!!! I aint done nothing bad…. Me cool and guess what I’m gonna tell him so…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So goes this awkward chat to make things CLEAR… &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;hey listen we re just friends right…for Christ’s sake I just met you on the internet…. today if you call me up and tell me you're in deep shit and you want me to fly back to Delhi... I won't… u get my point? for Christ’s sake I just met you on the internet…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;and so goes on an explanation, the person on the other end isn’t even been expecting…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Hey Babe!! Chill… relax… where’s all this comin from??? No no jus makin it clear and I’m happy its OH SO CLEAR. Sigh!!! I feel good bout my self!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;But that crutch is broken. You know why ‘coz when you met the guy at the party.. your warmth went there and the internet crutch was left with dry clarity… Clarity is good, when its gin and tonic, not in a friendship. Friends are just that.. friends.. but they do need warmth and care. Don’t they?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah I know where is it comin from? Get a life babies. Be a friend if you can.. before you go gaga over anyone. Before you give and ask for huggies on chat.. be a friend and more so give the other person a chance to be one to you. We all are looking for faith.. a crutch for life.. have faith, specially when you re getting some!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you re not mature nuff fer all this.. Smoke, go shop, have party (most popular these days). Better yet go post a blog yaar!!! Oh!! Is that what I’m doin?? ;) Yes I’m back to writing. Hope this lasts. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#66ffff;"&gt;My crutches for life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Thank you all. All that i ve met here. Giving me hope, giving me faith, puttin in me in place at times. Helping me get the best crutches I could have. Big hug... have faith that you give me, have hope. Most of all smile.. Coz you put a smile on my face :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18387250-113090706302629793?l=helluvachatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/feeds/113090706302629793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18387250&amp;postID=113090706302629793' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113090706302629793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113090706302629793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/2005/11/crutches.html' title='Crutches'/><author><name>Anu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11332056325190253661</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/153/8499/640/photo-3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18387250.post-113081584472235840</id><published>2005-11-01T07:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T19:32:07.140-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Diwali</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/1600/bomb3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/320/bomb3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/1600/bomb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/320/bomb.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good Morning. I just woke up and its Diwali today. As kids, we used to right essays on this festival, one of the biggest of India. It’s a festival of lights. The “VICTORY of GOODNESS over EVIL”. We eat sweets and light crackers…. And so on and so forth we wrote.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So did you buy some crackers for Diwali? For a couple of years the sky shots have been quite famous. The one that blast in the air and shimmer in different colors. Gold, purple, pink, blue…. This year we have a new toy, a new cracker... The human. The test was done 2 days back at three locations in Delhi… Govindpuri… Sarojani Nagar…. Paharganj.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best of the test was seen by an Assamesse man who had come with his family to celebrate. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;His daughter (At Paharganj) asks him for some ice cream. He goes few feet away and hears an explosion. His wife and two lil daughters are in the air, amongst others, he can not see at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what’s in this Diwali??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The color- RED. The theme- “GORE”. The flavor- Guts and Bones.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAPPY DIWALI&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18387250-113081584472235840?l=helluvachatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/feeds/113081584472235840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18387250&amp;postID=113081584472235840' title='21 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113081584472235840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113081584472235840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/2005/11/happy-diwali.html' title='Happy Diwali'/><author><name>Anu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11332056325190253661</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/153/8499/640/photo-3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>21</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18387250.post-113077592099901411</id><published>2005-10-31T23:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T09:56:56.706-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chole Kulche</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/1600/IMG_0484.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/320/IMG_0484.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was on my way to a friend’s office. Meeting after some time to chill out, all friends together. On my way I get my huger craving… What’s this thing with me, the hunger suddenly leaps, shouldn’t it slowly progress. Well, whatever. So on my way I stop for some road side food. Somethin I consider light… Chole Kulche. Just boiled chick peas with lotsa onion, tomato, cilantro and green chilies with a kind of bread (DROOL).&lt;br /&gt;To pack my goodies was a boy of 13, named Pratap. Sweet boy, eager to please and very very sweet smile. (the sweetest smiles belong to the boy who cleans my car and the person sleeping in the corner). He called me didi (elder sister). I fell in love with him. As he was preparing the chole I noticed something that grabbed my heart. He was standing in a muddy dusty road side, with no slippers on.. Bare feet!! Gosh! Cracked heels, standing in the dust, it spelled trouble. Usually when we see a sight like this, we feel the compassion and sweetly move on with our lives. Then its ME ME ME, and every one ceases to exist Not me, not anymore. My good deed book needs to be THICK, so I can smile more often (Ugh!! She’s so selfish.. ha ha ;)). Anyhow, I spoke about the boy when I met up with my friends and made one of em promise, that on our way back, we’ll buy him a pair of chappals (slippers).&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention, compassion gets lost with time? Yes, we forgot all about the boy on our way back. Luckily for me, the boy’s stand is on the way to my dad’s house. And every time I went to dad’s place I kicked my self for not having fulfilled the promise I made to myself.&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday though, I bought a pair of cool slippers for my mother and for Pratap. Both Ma and I went to give him a gift I thought he’d LOVE!! When we reached, there was no sign of Pratap. I looked for him and found him at another stall. Lotsa odd balls (all men) around gaping at this yummy dish (guess who), lookin for the boy…. He didn’t even vaguely remember me. You bought Chole from me? When? He was scared!! Did I have a complaint? Who was I and what the hell did I want!! I smiled gently and looked at his feet.. AAAAAAAAAAAGHH!!! He had slippers on .. ha ha ha. Thank god for me they were worn out and really old (Hell the bitch is weird. She just needs to fulfill her need for goodness) Anyways, I gave him the chappals, which he wouldn’t accept at first, embarrassed. But was I about to give up? No WAY… Strange eyes on me, thinking, freak, weirdo, I wish I could have her just once, gaped at me as I sped by, leaving …. Smiling, with a smile and grinning from ear to ear myself. Full of blessings for the boy. I love you Pratap.&lt;br /&gt;Chole Kulche anyone? ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18387250-113077592099901411?l=helluvachatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/feeds/113077592099901411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18387250&amp;postID=113077592099901411' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113077592099901411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113077592099901411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/2005/10/chole-kulche.html' title='Chole Kulche'/><author><name>Anu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11332056325190253661</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/153/8499/640/photo-3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18387250.post-113057429600265700</id><published>2005-10-31T23:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T09:48:11.050-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life's a PARTY</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/1600/ht%20show.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/320/ht%20show.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I am a compere, you dig? Master of ceremony. Yeah?? Makes any sense? Lotsa people wonder what that is. Once on the Mumbai-Delhi Rajdhani, someone asked me what I did. Told him that I was a compere. He thought it was interstin!! Hmmm!!! Some one actually understood what I do. After a while he asked, how I did it.. Well, I said, with a microphone and stuff!!! DUH?? He asked, if the mike was a device to compare shoes with!! Hilarious,.. No no, a COMPERE, not COMPARE.... SHOWS, not SHOES. A VJ on stage… Right, he understood, ish, maybe, whatever. It still is a lil tough to explain the concept of events to people. &lt;em&gt;Achha, announcer hai!! &lt;/em&gt;(Oh! she's an announcer) Uff! Hai ma, why me? Ha ha. Who cares if a guy on the train doesn’t dig what I do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Life’s a party!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s a strange life. Interesting, but strange. All kindsa people, who smile most graciously and bad mouth you as soon as you turn around. Late hours, glamour, masti, autographs (at times), lights, and all and etceteras. Did I mention? &lt;strong&gt;Life’s a party!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bread providers are events companies, I say bread, coz the event agency keeps the butter from the client and gives us bread. Ha ha. But associations are made, and sometimes kept, w or w/o work. A fun category in my line is that of road shows, where the compere promotes a product. Days after days of promotion at different locations. food, drinks, smoke, abuses and undying bonds for all the reasons. &lt;strong&gt;Life’s a party.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember my first road show series. All across Delhi, promoting Coca cola. What was their punch line then?? Ummm…. Yeah!! ‘&lt;em&gt;Jo chaho ho ja&lt;/em&gt;,i (what you want comes true) Coca Cola Enjoy’. Hmm, after 6 years, I can still taste the &lt;em&gt;jalebi&lt;/em&gt; (sweet meat)of most of the markets, all across Delhi. What days, what fun. Sweet memories. The same people give me TEN times of what they used to pay me then. Life’s a sweet nectar. &lt;strong&gt;Life’s a party.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So during those road shows, (my very first series) I met the typical production guy. Varun. Full of laughter and life, chubby, bubbly, jovial, jolly We worked together on many projects. And had fun on each and every one. I remember the “Clinic All Clear”, series in Punjab.. In Chandigarh, we saw a&lt;em&gt; Sikh&lt;/em&gt; (surd) guy actually wash off ice cream from his hands with cola, coz the vendor didn’t have any water. Ha ha ha. How we laughed and narrated the story to half the world. Anyways, a compere goes on location, glams up, talks and comes back. Before and after that, it’s the Varuns who make the show and later, wrap up. Settin up the stage or the float all night. Masking of back drop. Putting up the lights and sound. Night after night of stress and twice the food, twice the drinks, twice the smoke, twice the abuses and twice the undying bonds. In short twice the party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have late nights, Varuns have no nights. I exercise, Varuns don’t have the time to. I watch what I eat, but for the Varuns.. Ha ha.. &lt;strong&gt;Life’s a party&lt;/strong&gt; ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I write and Varun doesn’t. Varun can’t. At twenty five, my sweet Varun is gone. The chubby, bubbly, jovial, jolly Varun. He loved, chocolate excess. He had just bought an A/C for his ailing mother. Just opened an account for Rohit’s child. His father abusing him….. &lt;em&gt;Saala, kutta, Bh** C**d, chor ke chaala gayaa (&lt;/em&gt;Bas***rd, Mother F***er, has left me and gone). Rohit, sayin, &lt;em&gt;yeh dekho, mere sher, mere bhai jaal raha hai&lt;/em&gt; (there, there’s my tiger, my brother… there he is… BURNING).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a compere, you dig? Master of ceremony. Yeah?? Makes any sense? I meet Ajays, Prakashs, Kuldeeps. Come. Come along with me. Eat, drink, smoke, abuse, make undying bonds coz ....&lt;strong&gt;Life’s a party&lt;/strong&gt;..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18387250-113057429600265700?l=helluvachatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/feeds/113057429600265700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18387250&amp;postID=113057429600265700' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113057429600265700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113057429600265700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/2005/10/lifes-party.html' title='Life&apos;s a PARTY'/><author><name>Anu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11332056325190253661</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/153/8499/640/photo-3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18387250.post-113069128646218570</id><published>2005-10-30T22:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T11:27:23.180-08:00</updated><title type='text'>zzzz zzzzzzzzzz ZZZZZZZUUUUUUUUUBBBIIIIIII</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/1600/photo-1.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/320/photo-1.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So you have a boy friend? No? Join the clan. I’m single and very happy when I mingle. Have you EVER had a boy friend? Yes, I have. The first man in my life. He came to my 21st birthday party, through a common friend. Dimpled smile, slouched gait, bow legs, specs and braces. Doesn’t sound it but it was a pretty sight. Bunch of loveliest roses and a present in his hands.&lt;br /&gt;I wasn’t my brash self then. Shy girl, self conscious, NEVER been kissed. And there he was a party animal, loads of friends and a care free attitude. Did someone say opposites attract? Ha ha… they do!!! This was 16th November 1998 and in a week we were madly in love. Ah!! A wonderful feeling… my first love, late in life but WONDERFUL!!! Our next party was the Christmas party at his house… that’s when I saw her first. Hmm… After that I met her at plenty occasions, and I ALWAYS had a knot in my stomach. These women intuitions are crazy. She could never talk to him w/o touching him. Her hands on his chest, on his stomach… all over him, in spite of me telling her in as many words, not to touch him when she spoke to him.&lt;br /&gt;As all relationships go, we broke up for the first time.. There is when she struck. The bit** got him drunk and reached straight for ……………. Guess what?? His WALLET!! Ha ha ha, nah kiddin. You guessed it. Went straight for his pants! Oooooh ;) hot hot sizzzzle. Not really that 5’ nothing short, black, fat BIT** could NEVER compete w me (5’6”, hour glass, smart, intelligent). Nothing sizzled, or so I’ve heard.&lt;br /&gt;But obviously circus didn’t end there. The guy and I got back together and she was still a friend. Still the same bit** no, I had a new word for her… a SL*T. Te he he he.&lt;br /&gt;Then came 16th November 2003. We thought of having a party at his house this time. I insisted in callin HER too. She was a friend after all. She came and while I was in the kitchen preparing food. She thought of lessening my burdens by giving him a nice cozy neck massage. It was winter time yaar. Jyaz hai bhai (it’s understandable). And my creativity got her another name FUC*KING SL*T.. God I love myself :D&lt;br /&gt;The rollercoaster ride of our relationship continued and we FINALLY got engaged(after a million break ups and make ups). And a series of parties followed, with friends’ birthdays and weddings. I tried (mind you tried) to be the mature woman, the bigger person as he and FUC*ING SL*T danced. I was ok, I really was. He was mine and I his. She could go FUC* herself for all I cared.&lt;br /&gt;The next party came sooner than we’d expected. We were celebrating 15th August, Independence Day. Proud to be free. That night got me my independence too. That night she caressed the love (then) of my life. She held his hand in hers and moved her fingers up and down his arm. Gently, sensuously, ahhhhh!!! Adjectives fail me as I describe, so just try and visualize. Up and down up and down. IN FRONT OF ME TOO!! Why do assertive educated women like me take shit? AH!! Anyways, I had had enough and hey now I’m single and happy when I mingle.&lt;br /&gt;You don’t get the title of the blog do you? My ex, did not have any name in the Z of his address book. So he put Subi’s (our lady , the heroine) name as Zubi and whenever he used to leave her house and start the car, he’d accelerate… zzzzzz zzzzzzzz and say ZUUUBBBBBIIIIII. Ha ha ha. Not funny? :( Awwww&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/18387250-113069128646218570?l=helluvachatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/feeds/113069128646218570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18387250&amp;postID=113069128646218570' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113069128646218570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113069128646218570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/2005/10/zzzz-zzzzzzzzzz-zzzzzzzuuuuuuuuubbbiii.html' title='zzzz zzzzzzzzzz ZZZZZZZUUUUUUUUUBBBIIIIIII'/><author><name>Anu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11332056325190253661</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/153/8499/640/photo-3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18387250.post-113055972024734590</id><published>2005-10-28T21:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T11:28:51.600-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Face of a writer? ;)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/1600/photo-4.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/320/photo-4.0.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/18387250-113055972024734590?l=helluvachatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/feeds/113055972024734590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18387250&amp;postID=113055972024734590' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113055972024734590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113055972024734590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/2005/10/face-of-writer.html' title='Face of a writer? ;)'/><author><name>Anu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11332056325190253661</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/153/8499/640/photo-3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18387250.post-113048565418268567</id><published>2005-10-28T00:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T09:38:43.950-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Corner</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/1600/12.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/320/12.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;You are still here. As always. Your smile still melts me. I smile when I see you and fly when you compliment me. It’s been almost TEN years, and you still make me cry. My child, my friend, my guide …. MY FIRST LOVE… Ah!!! Yes you are still here. In a tiny corner in my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t abuse me when I give is love. Don’t demean me when I give you respect. Don’t keep your word and I won’t give you my precious time. Don’t capture my heart only to CRUSH IT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t try to get out of the corner and command my whole heart. Don’t stretch your arms, don’t shake your head, try and breathe slowly. Sleep peacefully in the tiny corner. Sleep forever. The corner belongs to you. The corner you deserve and no more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18387250-113048565418268567?l=helluvachatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/feeds/113048565418268567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18387250&amp;postID=113048565418268567' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113048565418268567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113048565418268567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/2005/10/corner.html' title='The Corner'/><author><name>Anu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11332056325190253661</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/153/8499/640/photo-3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18387250.post-113048551914437303</id><published>2005-10-28T00:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T10:20:22.596-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My new skirt</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/1600/IMG_0253.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5578/1787/320/IMG_0253.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Livin in Delhi.. Bah! Be ready to be cheated, abused, duped at EVERY step. Hey lets not get too nasty. Guess what? I shopped, dont girls LOVE THAT?? I LOVE my new skirt, its traditional and can be sported w a nice sexy camisole and accessoried w a duppatta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes Indo- Western is the way to be baby...I mean it's kinda global attire aint it?I wore the skirt and felt no less than a princess.... AH!!! Bliss. Fluttering around, swaying this way and that. But I noticed something, I was rather immaculate but my purse was a mess. So I start to take the extra papers out and out comes the bill for the skirt I paid by card... My new skirt :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess WHAT!!! I was charged Rs. 1,100 for a skirt that was tagged at Rs. 450... Hell, it’s a rip off man!! So next time I went around the area of purchase I thought of visiting the sweet conniving Vendor. Ha ha, did I think he'd REALLY hear me out?? Well, he did!! Yep he heard me out, very well and assured me the best and only that. He had the staff look for details of the skirt and started showin me gems to keep me cool.... But that was about it. No style numbers came up, no record of the no. of pieces,.... NOTHIN just some vague coded gibberish!! And a sweet smile and saccharine sweet words of how I was WRONG and the guys at the store could NEVER falter. Ah!! If I had some Momo's in my brain, they would've steamed so well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I am with my skirt, that I have trouble wearing now :) duped and kicking my ass for NOT havin checked the receipt... So people in Delhi or visitin... Watch out, the next guy might be the con man, the HERO of my story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S Thanks “CHIPPA”, GK-1/M block for inspiring my first blog. Worth the Rs. 550/- ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18387250-113048551914437303?l=helluvachatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/feeds/113048551914437303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18387250&amp;postID=113048551914437303' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113048551914437303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18387250/posts/default/113048551914437303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://helluvachatter.blogspot.com/2005/10/my-new-skirt.html' title='My new skirt'/><author><name>Anu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11332056325190253661</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/153/8499/640/photo-3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
