<?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-2786445123263625613</id><updated>2011-07-28T18:34:05.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>...because the paper in diaries come from trees.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2786445123263625613/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Apaperture</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02024142054679646794</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>8</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2786445123263625613.post-5425932440867545984</id><published>2010-02-02T16:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-02T17:15:41.285-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I need a haircut, but...</title><content type='html'>I hate hairstylists or whatever they are called nowadays.  My dear mother gave me thick confused black hair.  I call them confused because the strands don't know if they should be straight or wavy, so I have some wavy some straight thick black hair, which results to a big poof.  Believe me I like my hair and I am grateful that I inherited my mothers locks, but... I hate getting a hair cut.  It has nothing to do with the cost; I always get marked up because I have long thick hair, and that's fine.  But it seems like every time I walk into a salon and declare my needs, the receptionist lady assesses me and the first thing she says would be "You have a lot of hair."  Thank You, Captain Obvious.  I've known that.  Do you only expect people to have few strands of hair?  So I get shepherd in to a station.  When my stylist comes, guess what the first thing she says?  WHOA you have a lot of hair.  You'd think that stylists have seen plenty of heads to not be shocked by this, right? And they'd keep on talking about it again and again when they're cutting my hair.  I'd rather they tell me about their life than whine about having to cut my hair. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing I hate is that after I tell them NO to various straightening products and perming jobs, they still ask again.  &lt;em&gt;Japanese straightening is good for you.&lt;/em&gt;  No, lady, it won't be good for me because I have a round face and having flat hair will make me look retarded.  Besides, I don't want to look like every Asian barbies out there with their straight thin hair.  No, I don't want to look like you.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I need a haircut.  Supposed I'd just have to suck it up for 30 mins.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2786445123263625613-5425932440867545984?l=apaperture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/feeds/5425932440867545984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-need-haircut-but.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2786445123263625613/posts/default/5425932440867545984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2786445123263625613/posts/default/5425932440867545984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-need-haircut-but.html' title='I need a haircut, but...'/><author><name>Apaperture</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02024142054679646794</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-2786445123263625613.post-6875441116992035848</id><published>2009-10-14T15:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T15:51:09.158-07:00</updated><title type='text'>On a Bad Day...</title><content type='html'>I know that I am a fencer because I look at a German Body Cord and think, "this is good material to use to hang myself."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2786445123263625613-6875441116992035848?l=apaperture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/feeds/6875441116992035848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/2009/10/on-bad-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2786445123263625613/posts/default/6875441116992035848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2786445123263625613/posts/default/6875441116992035848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/2009/10/on-bad-day.html' title='On a Bad Day...'/><author><name>Apaperture</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02024142054679646794</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-2786445123263625613.post-8612974976757846343</id><published>2009-09-04T11:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T11:09:42.238-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This is How I Know I'm A Fencer</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377674581704024642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GAMCzMOJ-Ho/SqFWijgdokI/AAAAAAAAABM/lOfaXEOjJDA/s400/screen.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I opened another browser and read "EPEE."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It actually said "FREE."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377675079874556018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GAMCzMOJ-Ho/SqFW_jVksHI/AAAAAAAAABU/NYOPRMmeGik/s400/screen2.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I &lt;3 Fencing &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2786445123263625613-8612974976757846343?l=apaperture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/feeds/8612974976757846343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/2009/09/this-is-how-i-know-im-fencer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2786445123263625613/posts/default/8612974976757846343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2786445123263625613/posts/default/8612974976757846343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/2009/09/this-is-how-i-know-im-fencer.html' title='This is How I Know I&apos;m A Fencer'/><author><name>Apaperture</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02024142054679646794</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GAMCzMOJ-Ho/SqFWijgdokI/AAAAAAAAABM/lOfaXEOjJDA/s72-c/screen.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2786445123263625613.post-7992146139042749956</id><published>2009-08-21T14:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-21T15:02:21.155-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Really Really Really Really Hate Greedy Fencing Club Owners.</title><content type='html'>Below is a transcript of a message sent in a online community site where kids and parents have access to read,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Blah blah blah blah blah... A few members asked how the process works for the tournament selection etc and a re-cap of the meeting - I don't have much time but for those whoare interested here it is. All club representatives show up for meeting. They have on poster sheets of paper the tournaments andeach rep goes up and puts the clubs name by it who wants to host it. Then the organizer goes through the list and takes bids andarguments etc on who gets it, and then assigns it, and sometimes it getsheated! They try to give about the same number to each club and give thelarger events to larger clubs. After much infighting we decided to break into weapon groups to try and work out who took what - with allot of horsetrading going on. This system worked real well except I had to be in three groups at once foil, epee, and saber, &lt;strong&gt;but hey, &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; coached three weapons and 80 fencers at competitions by myself for 15 years so &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; could handle this.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; succeeded in getting what &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; wanted&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(Oh really now?!?!?! HOW AMAZING!!!)&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;as far as the way it showed up at the end of the meeting - I need to look at the schedule tosee if it was recorded that way. a couple foil, a saber, and an epeeevent as I recall.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;THE LARGEST CONTROVERSY (there is always one and I will sahre that one each year): Myself and another coach and others hated the idea of these large youth events on Saturday they had planned and many people voiced this as crazy - why? because most younger children train on Saturdays and do otheractivities as well, the big clubs like ours and others cannot host big tournaments because we have classes and practice on Saturdays, and coaches cannot attend these with their youth fencers as we teach and give lessonson Saturdays (TWO HUGE REASONS NOT TO HOLD THEM). If you want sat tourneys use small ones so they can be held in the afternoons after clubs are done for the day, and because coaches do not often coach junior and above BayCups so do these if you must on sat evenings everyone voiced. &lt;strong&gt;One coach (with a new club - between &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;my&lt;/span&gt; two clubs) &lt;/strong&gt;bidded for these large youth sat tourneys and was outvoted on holding them, he cussed under his breath and walked out of the meeting thus showing his lack of support  and most importantly the youth fencers. this was discussed briefly later when the local tournament committee turned to him to actually give him one event he requested on sat to make him happy but he was gone - sohe got nothing at all...&lt;strong&gt;The kids are important and the youth kids need to have their coachespresent - We should all think of the kids first may be.&lt;/strong&gt; So that is my report and good luck this season.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;The Muscle Man&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;I have a lot of problems with this message sent to kids and parents.  Why would I unearth the drama or controversies to the parents?  Like seriously, why would you do that?  I've worked in service industries and in my brief years working, I've learned that it is very important for customers to not know the bad stuff that's going on behind the scenes.  If you're eating at a restaurant, do you really want to leave the stinky bathroom door open?  It's actually one of the major rules of business, don't wash your dirty laundry in public.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;I ask earlier why someone would do that? One definite reason is that this person has a motive and desire to crush the competing club.  &lt;strong&gt;'One Coach (with a new club in between MY two clubs)...he cussed under his breath and walked out of the meeting...' &lt;/strong&gt;First, it's not your club; of course you own it, but you can't have it with out the fencers so call it their club not yours.  And what benefit would the proceeding details give the parents?  None.  It would only benefit you, Muscle Man, because you seriously want to paint him bad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"The kids are important and the youth kids need to have their coaches present - We should all think of the kids first may be."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;  Or to those stupid people who don't see his hypocrisy, I think we should all think of his pocket book because I'm sure he wants to remain vaccuuming money off parents' pockets so he could feed his horses (not kidding, he has horses).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;People could judge me for this... but i just really really really hate greedy fencing club owners.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2786445123263625613-7992146139042749956?l=apaperture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/feeds/7992146139042749956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-really-really-really-really-hate.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2786445123263625613/posts/default/7992146139042749956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2786445123263625613/posts/default/7992146139042749956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-really-really-really-really-hate.html' title='I Really Really Really Really Hate Greedy Fencing Club Owners.'/><author><name>Apaperture</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02024142054679646794</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-2786445123263625613.post-49883589948502410</id><published>2009-07-09T10:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T10:45:28.339-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Que sera sera...</title><content type='html'>The past has been on my mind lately. My mom is currently in Toronto with her High School Friends from the Philippines. Annually, a handful of these class of ’79 graduates gather in a breath taking North American city to see amazing places and of course, to see each other. Every time my mom comes back from this trip, she seems hopeful and full of youth, and the worries over work and mortgage escape her. I often wonder what my mom was like before my brother and I were born or even before she was married. Was she this giddy? She has hinted in the past this wild child, a borderline lesbian and a head strong young woman who refused to give in to any of her parents demands. I know that she stood up for what she wanted, worked hard and attained it, which allowed us this wonderful life. I wonder if I could be as brave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another one of these episodes occurred recently. Last night, as I sat in a small home office while helping my coach sort through and organize his life in his new apartment, I found an old plastic three ring binder insert. Inside, it held a piece of paper; the crumpled lines showed age. The pictures on it confirmed it further: my coach in full fencing gear at age 16 and another in full military uniform at age 19. It had some Arabic writings on it when translated says “Fencing: Fleuret.” It had stickers as well that read “Fencing is fun,” and “I love Fencing.” I just stared at this musty thing trying my best not to kiss the handsome young man in the picture. I look up now and see a different man, one who’s seen challenges, some disappointments and even heartache; I wish I was alive and could’ve met him then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reluctant to snatch it from my adoring hands, he told me to place it down and get back to work. I obediently did so, but not for long, I went back to the pictures. This time my thoughts escaped my mouth, “Someday can I have this?” I got an automatic reply, “no.” “It meant so much to me,” he says; “it reminded him times when life was different.” My mind slowed down the moment and when he reached for the old plastic, his words made so much sense to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A song in the radio, perhaps, reminds me of better days. My life is not as bad as other people, but at the same time, it’s not that great. I am a bit happier than I was a year ago but I still wish that things were different and that some things didn’t happen. I still go through the seven stages of grief at times: shock and denial, pain and guilt, anger and bargaining, depression, the upward turn, the reconstruction and hope, but I dare not dwell on them for that will be the death of me. But as I look at my mom and my coach, I wonder will it get worse for me? I look back at pictures of the younger versions of myself. Times were different then. I wish that I can remain a child forever, ever so pure, ever so free.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2786445123263625613-49883589948502410?l=apaperture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/feeds/49883589948502410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/2009/07/que-sera-sera.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2786445123263625613/posts/default/49883589948502410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2786445123263625613/posts/default/49883589948502410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/2009/07/que-sera-sera.html' title='Que sera sera...'/><author><name>Apaperture</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02024142054679646794</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-2786445123263625613.post-8031666393535297473</id><published>2009-02-27T08:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T09:03:03.919-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Between Heaven and my hell...</title><content type='html'>At a casual coffee date, a guy friend asks me if I'm single.  I reply, "I'm not single." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He raises his eyebrows and continues.  "You're single or just not interested," he says with &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; tone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a smile, "I'm not available." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Huh.  But I haven't seen him around,"  he hovers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take a sip of my latte. "Yep, it's long distance, but that's an understatement."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2786445123263625613-8031666393535297473?l=apaperture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/feeds/8031666393535297473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/2009/02/between-heaven-and-my-hell.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2786445123263625613/posts/default/8031666393535297473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2786445123263625613/posts/default/8031666393535297473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/2009/02/between-heaven-and-my-hell.html' title='Between Heaven and my hell...'/><author><name>Apaperture</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02024142054679646794</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-2786445123263625613.post-695942742788785890</id><published>2009-02-17T21:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T22:24:51.002-08:00</updated><title type='text'>On Valentine's Day, I ate my weight in Sonic Food.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GAMCzMOJ-Ho/SZukABj9HII/AAAAAAAAAA0/TTmP1h5N0Ag/s1600-h/DSCN0583.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GAMCzMOJ-Ho/SZukABj9HII/AAAAAAAAAA0/TTmP1h5N0Ag/s320/DSCN0583.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304013306485087362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; It's Saturday Night; a night when I usually go out with my friends and be merry.  But it's Valentines Day and my singleton friends and I prefer not to be surrounded by mushy gooey eyed couples parading in the city.  Yet, I was hungry and I needed to eat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regardless of the day, I still wanted to celebrate and eat well, hence, I drove 45 mins south on 101 to get my favorite fastfood place.  The newly opened Sonic in Gilroy was incredibly packed, even though the place isn't as nice and big as the Tracey location. Regardless of the ambience, the food has been consistent so I indulged myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I got:&lt;br /&gt;- Sonic's Jalapeno Cheeseburger&lt;br /&gt;- Chili Cheese Wrap&lt;br /&gt;- Chili Cheese Coney&lt;br /&gt;- Jalapeno Popper&lt;br /&gt;- Sonic Reese's Blast&lt;br /&gt;- Cherry Limeade&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honorable Mention: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Chili Cheese Wrap&lt;/span&gt;, this unusual wrap is made of Fritos chips with Chili wrapped in warm tortilla.  So good, my tastebuds couldn't contain themselves!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GAMCzMOJ-Ho/SZupFxvgmkI/AAAAAAAAAA8/Bpur3UWStwE/s1600-h/DSCN0588.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GAMCzMOJ-Ho/SZupFxvgmkI/AAAAAAAAAA8/Bpur3UWStwE/s200/DSCN0588.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304018902875937346" 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/2786445123263625613-695942742788785890?l=apaperture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/feeds/695942742788785890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/2009/02/on-valentines-day-i-ate-my-weight-in.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2786445123263625613/posts/default/695942742788785890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2786445123263625613/posts/default/695942742788785890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/2009/02/on-valentines-day-i-ate-my-weight-in.html' title='On Valentine&apos;s Day, I ate my weight in Sonic Food.'/><author><name>Apaperture</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02024142054679646794</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GAMCzMOJ-Ho/SZukABj9HII/AAAAAAAAAA0/TTmP1h5N0Ag/s72-c/DSCN0583.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2786445123263625613.post-5010089772122211795</id><published>2009-02-08T13:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T14:50:11.022-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet for My Sweet, Sugar for My Honey...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GAMCzMOJ-Ho/SY9ZSPDuuLI/AAAAAAAAAAk/q4XPU4QN54k/s1600-h/Kara%27s+Cupcake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GAMCzMOJ-Ho/SY9ZSPDuuLI/AAAAAAAAAAk/q4XPU4QN54k/s320/Kara%27s+Cupcake.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300553456253057202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After watching three seasons of Showtime's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dexter&lt;/span&gt; religiously for a whole month, I started to crave donuts.  For those who watch and have watched the show, you understand why; the lovable serial killer brought donuts to the station daily as a part of his quest for normalcy.  And so, I searched for the best bakery in the Bay Area, instead I stumbled upon this cute little cupcake store in Santana Row called Kara's Cupcakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call me crazy for getting excited over a cupcake, especially when it costs $3.25 each, but so far Kara's cupcakes delights my sweet tooth.  I got the Fleur de Sel, a chocolate cupcake filled with caramel goodness, and the chocolate velvet, which is a normal chocolate cupcake topped with a chocolate buttercream.  Careful, it's rich.  Lastly, I tried the Carrot cupcake, which had nothing new to offer.  It's not really Kara's fault; no one can top Bellagio's Jean Philippe's Carrot Cake, which is a must visit every time you're in Las Vegas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GAMCzMOJ-Ho/SY9dD9LWb5I/AAAAAAAAAAs/iij1L4beWHE/s1600-h/DSCN0574.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GAMCzMOJ-Ho/SY9dD9LWb5I/AAAAAAAAAAs/iij1L4beWHE/s200/DSCN0574.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300557608981524370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So, next time you're in Santana Row: try these: Chocolate Velvet and Fleur de Sel, not this: Carrot Cupcake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My Top Three Favorite Sweets&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Lindt Chocolate Truffles&lt;br /&gt;2.  Claim Jumper's English Toffee Pudding&lt;br /&gt;3.  Goldilock's Sans Rival&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Runner Up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Everything from Jean Philippe and Macaroni Grill's Panna Cotta &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(discontinued)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2786445123263625613-5010089772122211795?l=apaperture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/feeds/5010089772122211795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/2009/02/sweet-for-my-sweet-sugar-for-my-honey.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2786445123263625613/posts/default/5010089772122211795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2786445123263625613/posts/default/5010089772122211795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apaperture.blogspot.com/2009/02/sweet-for-my-sweet-sugar-for-my-honey.html' title='Sweet for My Sweet, Sugar for My Honey...'/><author><name>Apaperture</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02024142054679646794</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/_GAMCzMOJ-Ho/SY9ZSPDuuLI/AAAAAAAAAAk/q4XPU4QN54k/s72-c/Kara%27s+Cupcake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
