<?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-4856996190694414960</id><updated>2012-02-16T11:38:25.729+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Not just bamboo makes me want to poo. All kinds of plants, tickle my pants.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4856996190694414960/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>yasnaeatbamboo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07723849177111829438</uri><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>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4856996190694414960.post-4374544823643045780</id><published>2010-07-26T18:03:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2010-07-26T18:39:09.471+02:00</updated><title type='text'>if youre not dead by 90, i'll give you a cigarette.</title><content type='html'>Hi. yeah im blogging, lets get over it together, shall we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today i felt like i have to document a moment in someones life that kind of freaked me out a bit. and if I get freaked out im dragging you all down with me, so here goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a designer, I work at a retirement home cleaning apartments. This job kind of has a doctor-patient confidentiality thing going on (yes I am actually trying to sound important, play along) So I'm going to call my following subject patient X (and pretend i'm Scully). When i arrived at patient X's apartment, she opened the door and rushed back down the hall yelling that she has to go change her sons diaper. Now see, I've met X before, been to her crib, thrown back a few shots (of coffee) with her so i knew all her screws weren't screwed on tight. Ive also met her 60 year old son so naturally I just told her to wash her hands after and broke out the vacuum cleaner.&lt;br /&gt;Soon she would come out of the kitchen, make me get out of the way and say, let me pass quickly, I just want to see if I have a cigarette in there. Go granny I thought, and moved out of her way. And so it began. She would look and look and finally she would come to the conclusion that she was probably out of cigarettes but as soon as her ass hit the chair again, she would get up, excuse herself for bothering me, make her way passed the vacuum cleaner and mumble, im just gonna see if i have any cigarettes hidden away anywhere. For another five-ten minutes id hear all the cabinets in the house opening and closing followed by the toilette seat and the microwave being checked until finally she'd come to me and say "looks like i smoked them all!" Little did she know she'd be up and running around again in about 30 seconds. Five times later, I finally put a cigarette for her in the fridge and low and behold, she spent the rest of the time on the balcony out of my way. In retrospect i guess I overlooked the fact that by having her find something as random as a cigarette in the refrigerator, I must have upped her crazy a little...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But hey, you learn something new every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KB9dskLZWMk/TALv9695o_I/AAAAAAAAAbA/FYnLcIxfWXY/s1600/Dana+Scully+Xfiles.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KB9dskLZWMk/TALv9695o_I/AAAAAAAAAbA/FYnLcIxfWXY/s1600/Dana+Scully+Xfiles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 89px; height: 119px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KB9dskLZWMk/TALv9695o_I/AAAAAAAAAbA/FYnLcIxfWXY/s1600/Dana+Scully+Xfiles.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;/ ya&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4856996190694414960-4374544823643045780?l=yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com/feeds/4374544823643045780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4856996190694414960&amp;postID=4374544823643045780' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4856996190694414960/posts/default/4374544823643045780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4856996190694414960/posts/default/4374544823643045780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com/2010/07/if-youre-not-dead-by-90-ill-give-you.html' title='if youre not dead by 90, i&apos;ll give you a cigarette.'/><author><name>yasnaeatbamboo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07723849177111829438</uri><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/_KB9dskLZWMk/TALv9695o_I/AAAAAAAAAbA/FYnLcIxfWXY/s72-c/Dana+Scully+Xfiles.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4856996190694414960.post-5020041995289589568</id><published>2010-01-11T15:25:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T15:30:32.546+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I witnessed a murder today.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I was riding home today on the bus, listening to music and not paying attention to anything. As we were stopping at one of the bus stops, a girl in the back started screaming. I looked back and saw her pointing out the window and I followed her stare. Out in a unfenced yard were three guys, two of them standing, one of them was on the ground, bloody. The taller of the two men had a large stick and was about ready to smash it into the downed man’s head again, when the men realized a whole busload was looking at them. As the bus driver called the police, the other man who hadn’t been doing anything took a gun out of his pocket and shot the guy in the head. at this point the whole bus was in shock and glued to the morbid scene, the two men got into a car and sped off. when i came home i was visibly shaken, I told my mom what i had just seen. She got scared and said: “You’re moving with your auntie and uncle to Bel-Air”. I whistled for a cab and when it came near, the license plate said “FRESH” and it had dice in the mirror, If anything I could say that this cab was rare, but I thought “Nah, forget it, Yo homes, to Bel-Air!” I pulled up to the house about 7:00 or 8:00 and i yelled to the cabby, “Yo homes, smell ya later!” looked at my kingdom, I was finally there, to sit on my throne as the price of Bel-Air.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;//Yasnaeatsuckafish!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4856996190694414960-5020041995289589568?l=yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com/feeds/5020041995289589568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4856996190694414960&amp;postID=5020041995289589568' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4856996190694414960/posts/default/5020041995289589568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4856996190694414960/posts/default/5020041995289589568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-witnessed-murder-today.html' title='I witnessed a murder today.'/><author><name>yasnaeatbamboo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07723849177111829438</uri><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-4856996190694414960.post-8215950601717989132</id><published>2009-10-27T02:21:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T03:11:49.438+01:00</updated><title type='text'>lost generation.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if only this kind of creativity worked,&lt;br /&gt;but everyone knows that money is happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-3b1159590e154395" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v13.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D3b1159590e154395%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331694461%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D7E8BE6C042FD3612FFBD701D11B8F3065868F1EE.4D6A3A904ADCE69D7C05CD473F78378309D8B76F%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D3b1159590e154395%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dy8wYU5hkKaigF8H2RhPItMqIV14&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v13.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D3b1159590e154395%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331694461%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D7E8BE6C042FD3612FFBD701D11B8F3065868F1EE.4D6A3A904ADCE69D7C05CD473F78378309D8B76F%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D3b1159590e154395%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dy8wYU5hkKaigF8H2RhPItMqIV14&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;/&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;yasnaeatdestruction&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&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/4856996190694414960-8215950601717989132?l=yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com/feeds/8215950601717989132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4856996190694414960&amp;postID=8215950601717989132' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4856996190694414960/posts/default/8215950601717989132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4856996190694414960/posts/default/8215950601717989132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com/2009/10/lost-generation.html' title='lost generation.'/><author><name>yasnaeatbamboo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07723849177111829438</uri><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-4856996190694414960.post-4265653128380889898</id><published>2009-10-25T22:20:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T22:59:53.789+01:00</updated><title type='text'>wherever you go, there you are.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;And so it goes, I am in Italy. Florence to be exact. The city of culture, art, supposedly good wines but having lived in France, im sceptical. Im actually sceptical to a lot of things here, after having lived in France. and i like saying sceptical. did you know sceptical can be spelled with either a c or a k? now you do. you're welcome. Time is flying by fast and I am still not really used to saying that i live in Italy. I still don't really understand this simple fact. But (you knew there was a but didnt you? you clever reader you.) but, Italy is cool. Im liking it here. Schools going well, friends are great, after a few more adjustments to my new and improved ("woh woh woh, back up for a second, new and improved? don't get ahead of yourself there Ya." said the devil floating over yasna's left shoulder. "shut it miley cyrus" replied the angel on the right. "she needs some time is all".) Soon i will have a new apartment too! this one is quite pricey i do say bruce. who's bruce? So my awesome neighbor and i will be getting an apartment together in the beginning of december. the new "it place".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's exciting here. Even though I'm secretly kind of disappointed, (I mean, the right kind of coffee is pretty important and there is no finding "normal" coffee here), I love the feeling I get when I discover a new place. New things, meet new people, start over. it's what I'm here to do and im doing it. well, that and photoshop'ing creepy pictures of angelina jolie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A6U3mI3mDNo/SuTIw9GC5zI/AAAAAAAAALo/8ds7bLvfKDA/s1600-h/photo+montage+5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 192px; height: 159px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A6U3mI3mDNo/SuTIw9GC5zI/AAAAAAAAALo/8ds7bLvfKDA/s320/photo+montage+5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396658996855891762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;       &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A6U3mI3mDNo/SuTIw8V_u5I/AAAAAAAAALw/DMtDd1nf1-Q/s1600-h/photomontage+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 191px; height: 157px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A6U3mI3mDNo/SuTIw8V_u5I/AAAAAAAAALw/DMtDd1nf1-Q/s320/photomontage+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396658996654357394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;           &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A6U3mI3mDNo/SuTIxMCv4jI/AAAAAAAAAL4/bkgYckBuqrA/s1600-h/photomontage+3a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 189px; height: 158px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A6U3mI3mDNo/SuTIxMCv4jI/AAAAAAAAAL4/bkgYckBuqrA/s320/photomontage+3a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396659000868594226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;ciao bambini&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;/&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;yasnaeathelvetica&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/4856996190694414960-4265653128380889898?l=yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com/feeds/4265653128380889898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4856996190694414960&amp;postID=4265653128380889898' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4856996190694414960/posts/default/4265653128380889898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4856996190694414960/posts/default/4265653128380889898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com/2009/10/wherever-you-go-there-you-are.html' title='wherever you go, there you are.'/><author><name>yasnaeatbamboo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07723849177111829438</uri><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/_A6U3mI3mDNo/SuTIw9GC5zI/AAAAAAAAALo/8ds7bLvfKDA/s72-c/photo+montage+5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4856996190694414960.post-1551419106134914116</id><published>2008-12-16T00:56:00.009+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T02:19:04.041+01:00</updated><title type='text'>When I was a kid.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(translated golden oldy off my old blog, cause Im way to tired to write)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt; When I was a kid, I would stand in the corner of a room when I was moping about something. I would stand facing the wall and wait for my mom, dad or brother to come get me. When heard their steps getting closer, I stuck out my arm behind me to make sure they saw me. My complete inability to be discrete began here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;* &lt;/span&gt;When I was a kid, I was madly afraid of the police. My dad and my brother would team up and as soon as the opportunity showd itself, one of them would make siren noises and the other would pretend to call the police and tell them to come get me. It worked everytime, I used to cry more than when they passed by my arm in the corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt; When I was a kid, I wanted to be older than my brother. I was always looking forward to the day when I would finally pass him and be the biggest!! But as soon as I turned one year older and moved one step closer to my goal, he'd go and do the same 8 months later. One step forward, two steps back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;* &lt;/span&gt;When I was a kid, the sand box was my favorite place on the whole playground. My best friend in the world, Henrik, and I used to quickly throw the sand that was in the sun over to the sand that was in the shadow to see if the sun-sand would glow in the shadow-sand and vice versa. We would sit there for hours, but it never worked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A6U3mI3mDNo/SUb8AWejkMI/AAAAAAAAAKA/APtjJ1pXGUU/s1600-h/china_yasna.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280184696102424770" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A6U3mI3mDNo/SUb8AWejkMI/AAAAAAAAAKA/APtjJ1pXGUU/s320/china_yasna.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;* &lt;/span&gt;When I was a kid, Henrik, Anna and I (the three musketeers at our kindergarden) started a club called "No teeth". Basically you had to loose your baby teeth before all the other kids. Our technique was to wiggle all the teeth that weren't loose until they were, and pull out all the was that were already loose enough. Henrik set the record by loosing 4 teeth in a day, and I was a close second loosing 3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt; When I was a kid, I would often call my mom after I went to bed, so she'd come and tuck me in. But if she was with me when I went to bed, I wasn't allowed to do that. One time I did it anyway cause I had something important to tell her. When I heard steps in the hallway I had forgotten what it was, but luckily I was a quick thinker as a child so I peed in my bed so she'd have something to do when she came.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;* &lt;/span&gt;When I was a kid, I was a super hero. When the commercials came on, I would put my blanket on (think super-man cape) and stand up on the coffee table. And so the super hero in me took over! I even had an intro to my super hero profile, it went something like this: From couch to couch! from edge to edge! From mother to brother! it's JUMPING BEAN! Then of course I would jump between sofas, armrests and family members.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt;When I was a kid, I had an asian boy in my class who's name was Nam. I thought he was very cute, until one day when we were on a field trip with another class and I fell for Nam's cousin instead, Viet. (true story)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt;When I was a kid, I took the school bus home by myself once. Two stops before I was&lt;br /&gt;supposed to get off, and let me just say that I was pretty new to the area, I hear a girl screaming my name in the back of the bus. She runs up to me and says "Hi yasna, can we play at my house today? Im megan". When we got off the bus her mom came to pick us up and before I got a chance to introduce myself, she goes "Hi Yasna!" We were best friends for three years after that but I never understood or asked how they knew me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;* &lt;/span&gt;When I was a kid, my favorite movie was problem child. Imagine my surprise when I came home one day and found my mom had taped the third and last movie; the only one I hadn't seen!! I still remember that feeling of pride after having seen it six times in one day. I also remember that after that "incident" I had to sit no more than 2 meters away from the tv to see anything and a week later I got my first pair of glasses. Long story short, thanks to my amazing fashion sense at age 7, I had an awesome hiding place everytime we played hide and go seek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;* &lt;/span&gt;When I was a kid, Kevin McCallister was a big boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;// Yasnaeatchildhood&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4856996190694414960-1551419106134914116?l=yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com/feeds/1551419106134914116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4856996190694414960&amp;postID=1551419106134914116' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4856996190694414960/posts/default/1551419106134914116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4856996190694414960/posts/default/1551419106134914116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com/2008/12/when-i-was-kid.html' title='When I was a kid.'/><author><name>yasnaeatbamboo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07723849177111829438</uri><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/_A6U3mI3mDNo/SUb8AWejkMI/AAAAAAAAAKA/APtjJ1pXGUU/s72-c/china_yasna.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4856996190694414960.post-2708716024535462828</id><published>2008-12-03T17:02:00.006+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T02:07:19.701+01:00</updated><title type='text'>soup du jour.</title><content type='html'>Hello mes amies, sorry for putting you on hold for so long, lets get this party started.&lt;br /&gt;Let me start you off with a story about blackmail, bribery, corruption... and all the other joys of being an au pair. It's been an intense few days at the mansion. The girl I will refer to as number 2 (ive always wanted to call people by numbers, its powerful) has learned the art of being a pain in my rectum. At the young and hormonal age of ten, she is a hell of a manipulator. Hour after hour in the  bathroom to avoid homework (see there is no way i'm going in there to get her), tv addictions that can't be compromised (that would have been awesome to just have her infront of the tv all day, but somethings are forbidden by nr 3, the chief, the mother) and of course my all time favorite.. "the other aupairs let me eat mountains of chocolate before dinner infront of the tv all the time..."  Though that would explain alot. If this angel that is nr 2 wasn't aiming her powers of mass destruction at moi, I'd have to say, her ways impress me. But she is so they don't, it mostly just pisses me off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there was thursday... it had been a good day. me and number 2 were having a pillow fight. I had put my computer on the table. Suddenly nr 2's hand knocks over a glass of water onto my baby (who's way too good for being referred to by a number) and the next thing I know I see myself from outside of my own body grasping desperately for air, my life flashing before my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;"oh god, why is there smoke??" my left brain said to my right brain. "Shut up and save the organs!!" it responded with a cloud of panic lingering over its every word. And so I did. Left on my lap a few minutes later was the cold and painfully silent corps of my macbook 13 inch white laptop, may he rest in peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me want to go home. Just for a little while, I'm tired of this sucky routine, I want family, I want my friends and I need &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;freedom&lt;/span&gt;. (Damn straight I used the bold function for that, Id do it again if I could).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Granted, having no computer (even though the first few days my hands and knees were shaking, and Im not even kidding) has made me so productive. I've been studying, cleaning and doing all kinds of things that hadn't even crossed my mind before. And its only been 5 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;There will always be people looking down their noses. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'll be here, looking up smelling the roses.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alrighty, lights out,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;//Yasnaeattragedy&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/4856996190694414960-2708716024535462828?l=yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com/feeds/2708716024535462828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4856996190694414960&amp;postID=2708716024535462828' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4856996190694414960/posts/default/2708716024535462828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4856996190694414960/posts/default/2708716024535462828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com/2008/12/soup-du-jour.html' title='soup du jour.'/><author><name>yasnaeatbamboo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07723849177111829438</uri><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-4856996190694414960.post-6862614224386323726</id><published>2008-11-21T01:14:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T01:49:59.210+01:00</updated><title type='text'>eggs and wine.</title><content type='html'>Jarrad Italia. Thank you for following my blog. You rock.&lt;br /&gt;See people, you'd all get that kind of attention if you would just get your thumbs out of your asses and click on the -follow this blog- link. but really Jarrad, miss you man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay so, today I'm going to be talking to you about the relations between global warming and the ecological methods used to prevent it in the northern countries. Or i might just discuss the fact that in the beginning, there must have been someone who once said: see that chicken over there? I'm gonna eat the next thing he pops out of his butt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, our teacher advised us to go out and try the famous french wine that comes out the 22 of november every year. Apparently, this wine is so awesome that it is against the law (seriously) to serve it at restaurants before the 22nd. So as cultural as I am, I went out with this cool american girl in my class to try it and as told, the beaujolais wine was everywhere!!! at 2 euros a glass, we got wasted. Thank you, french wine events. To our defense, what signifies the beaujolais is that it's meant to be enjoyed immediately and not be left to age, so I think we handled that pretty well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, it is officially on. I am moving to Florence the 3rd of september. I could not look forward to it more. As cheesy as it sounds, i've been listening to nothing but italian music all week thinking "soon, I could be singing along!!!" dormi sepolto in un campo di grano...! or something like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok goodnight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;//&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;yasnaeatdrunk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4856996190694414960-6862614224386323726?l=yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com/feeds/6862614224386323726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4856996190694414960&amp;postID=6862614224386323726' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4856996190694414960/posts/default/6862614224386323726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4856996190694414960/posts/default/6862614224386323726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com/2008/11/eggs-and-wine.html' title='eggs and wine.'/><author><name>yasnaeatbamboo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07723849177111829438</uri><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-4856996190694414960.post-165470076294958007</id><published>2008-11-17T12:56:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T02:00:30.570+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Think thought thought.</title><content type='html'>The trail of thought fascinates me. We’ve all been there, trying to study, watch a movie, read a book. The slightest distraction makes your mind wander from point A to point Z, when really we can usually only afford to go to point B, at most C. I was reading an article about the human mind the other day (I totally wasn’t, I was reading a Garfield comic on the metro before school) when a girl beside me lifted her arm really fast to scratch her head, it was a bit creepy. A crazy spiral of thoughts and 3 metro stops later, my mind had gone from Garfield’s shenanigans to the very relevant question: is it true that a turtle’s eyes pop if put in the microwave?&lt;br /&gt;Here’s how that happened, thought by thought:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;what if the zipper on her sleeve was broken forming a sharp tip, and I was sitting a little closer to her, and she would have scratched my face. Wow she would have felt sooo bad. I would have needed stitches, oh the drama…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;damn that was crazy how the interns were cutting their arms and stitching each other up on grey’s anatomy just to practice. That show is awesome. Dr. Yang is a hoot. She sounds all wrong in the dubbed french version though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; frenchies dub everything. It really spoils them. Use your brain cells idiots, would it hurt to at least understand another language? I hate spoiled people, with their money and their laziness…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;you know who was spoiled? Christina Applegate in Married with Children. That was an awesome show. She was a hoot. I loved that episode where they put a turtle in the microwave and his eyes popped..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;wait why did they do that? Would a turtles eyes really make that loud popping noise?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Et voila. I had to get off at the next stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;/&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yasnaeatturtle&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/4856996190694414960-165470076294958007?l=yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com/feeds/165470076294958007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4856996190694414960&amp;postID=165470076294958007' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4856996190694414960/posts/default/165470076294958007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4856996190694414960/posts/default/165470076294958007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com/2008/11/think-thought-though.html' title='Think thought thought.'/><author><name>yasnaeatbamboo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07723849177111829438</uri><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-4856996190694414960.post-6343410899105487255</id><published>2008-11-12T23:19:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T23:38:51.807+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Yasna 3:16</title><content type='html'>I am Yasna. You can call me your awesomeness. Those of you who knew me before I left my hood back in Suède, know that I used to be quite good at blogging. We had some good times together, blogger and I. Blogging was even my bitch at one point. Then one day, I just didn't have it in me. I’d sit for hours, write something, and delete it. After a while I just didn't try anymore cause you know, I got a life n I was living it... Good news though, I figured out that that is probably to my advantage, so now I’m all about the blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First thing's first: I'm ditching the swedish. fact is I probably have more english speaking people likely to give a crap. But hey, that wont really be a problem now will it? ..other than the fact that I grew up in a place where speaking English in public gives you one hell of a so called IB-label (IB, international baccalaureate, the snobby know-it-all wannabe kids roaming the streets of Malmö abusing the word “like” as if it killed their brothers and raped their mothers…no offense…) But that’s okay, I am way past that, english is just more practical of a language to blog in. Aint no shame in my game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So paris has been amazing, and you will hear more about it later since I’m still soaking in its glory, but for the time being, I must pass this message on to my lover:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heart thee, Paris. But lets face it, we’ve grown apart. I know that you throw parties on your pretty bridges for your slutty tourists without me, and you know that I google other capitals late at night. Its okay Paris, you are a confident, popular place. who wouldn’t fall in love with you?? But you and I can’t go on like this. As much as I love you, the passion is gone…. I think we should see other cities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if you’ve been dead the past few days…then you probably still are. But if you’ve been hibernating somewhere, stuck on an island Crusoe-style, or if you're just plain stupid, then let me update you. Obama won the US elections, Yay! Never thought I’d see the day where the majority of the states…okay yeah we’ve all heard that last part. Anyway, imagine the party that was going on at Oprah's last Wednesday. She must have been throwing her &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;favorite things&lt;/span&gt; all over the place in pure joy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well ladies and jellybeans, I am off to sip some expensive corona beer and enjoy the thought of having a place to bullshite again. glad to be back!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;/ &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;"&gt;Yasnaeatbamboo&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/4856996190694414960-6343410899105487255?l=yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com/feeds/6343410899105487255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4856996190694414960&amp;postID=6343410899105487255' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4856996190694414960/posts/default/6343410899105487255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4856996190694414960/posts/default/6343410899105487255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yasnaeatbamboo.blogspot.com/2008/11/yasna-316.html' title='Yasna 3:16'/><author><name>yasnaeatbamboo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07723849177111829438</uri><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></feed>
