cred:spe88ncer @ YT

cred: shu-i.net

Kyaa~ I’ve been waiting for so long for them to make a comeback!!!!!~ (actually, I bet all SHU-I fans have been waiting neh? )

This time, they turned the table around with a new image! ! They are so adorable!!~~ >W<

Credits:spe88ncer

Teehee~ Inseok’s hair is adorable. >W< Reminds me of Hongki’s hair when FT Island first debuted. :3

and his pants really reminds me of G-dragon’s!! O__O

and Hongki’s old hair…

G-dragon’s pants in “My Heaven” .

GAH~ I love his  hair! ^^ and I miss Hongki’s ponytail. xD

Hyungjun got a haircut too. >W< …………ehh…it makes him look cuter. XD but I like his old hair better. xD

New hair

Changhyun’s new hair

Heh. I like him with longer hair. V__V

Maybe I just have a thing for longer haired guys…but like….ya. xD

They all look adorable. >W< I like their new style. ^^ REALLY CUTE~

SHU-I FIGHTING!~

Date : 13th Nov. 2009

Haven’t heard anything of them for a long time. Hope they’ll have new song soon

Notorious dancer, Poppin HyunJoon, finally debuts today as a singer, along with four hand-picked trainees which makes up project group, A-Force.

I kind of like their concept as they do look unique! Besides it is a group with only one guy and four girls (Surin, Victoria, Eun Byul, and Sooah).

Below is their debut performance of “Wonder Woman”

Besides that, SHU-I has also returned with “Save Me”,

[http://instiz.egloos.com/3430152]

bhines posted some new vids on his youtube page dboyb313 . he did two acoustic videos with frankie celenza…i must say it’s pretty dope. not only does bhines sound good, being the natural born singer he is, he’s got frankie celenza setting the tone, with just an overall dope video concept. very simple, but definitely works.

first session is: save me

second session is: nothin

…and if you haven’t seen his pretty wings cover, here is your chance:

Have You Seen Grey’s Anatomy: Season 1 Episode 8 – Save Me?

Episode Synopsis:

Meredith grows increasingly dissatisfied with fact that she knows nothing about Derek’s life. Meanwhile, Alex treats a patient whose religious beliefs jeopardize her chances for recovery, and Izzie contemplates reconnecting with her estranged mother. Also, a pregnant woman in her 40s who’s been diagnosed with cancer disagrees with Cristina’s medical advice. And the interns are mystified by a patient who’s being treated for seizures and who thinks he’s psychic.

So what do you think of this episode?

If you missed it, you can watch it here.

Sometimes it’s hard to concentrate
Facing the world at its very best
Where does this end?
In a prison, In my mind
Can’t escape, trapped forever
All I have left is fake
Not who I want to be
It’s not me
I can’t fight against it,
It’s not what is supposed to happen
Left by myself
Submerged in thoughts
Of what’s right and what’s wrong
What is meant to be all along
Could there be anyone else like this?
No heart to condone,
Miserable, helpless and all alone
Broken shards of glass
And a light blinding the room
My sickening soul
And a fight to my doom
I want to be free

Save me.
Save me.

Just so I’m clear (or will try to be)

Illustration by Edward Gorey. I'm a huge fun. Interviewed him over the phone once. Delightful man! Such a droll wit.

my doctor  my former doctor is a real SOB.

His name is Robert Constant, Endocrinologist, from Orlando.

I met him in 2005 He ordered the biopsy that determined the lump in my throat was a big old ball of cancer, and we had to get it out.

He helped me learn everything about my thyroid, and synthroid, and the pluses and minuses of everything. He held my hand that year I couldn’t speak, because the surgeon had accidentally paralyzed my right vocal cord and it has never worked again. I learned how to speak again, sort of. But I can’t sing anymore, or breathe right, and often I swallow food and drink that accidentally go down my windpipe. It’s called aspiration. And it isn’t anything you want to aspire to. Look it up.

Did I sue? No. It happens in 1% of surgeries. I got unlucky. I should sue someone for bad luck?

I got thyroid cancer from my trips to Russia on behalf of The Orlando Sentinel. Of that I am sure. Want proof yourself? Google Bryansk and thyroid cancer and then know that I spent a good part of 2003 there, eating and drinking the water.

I should sue for getting to report a story in Russia? Are you nuts?

I don’t sue. I’m not one of those litigious assholes people like Republican Congressman John Mica try to blame for the rising costs of malpractice insurance and defensive medicine, which Mica likes to say are one of the biggest reasons for the cost of health care.

I’d like to debate Mica on all that, but I’d just want to reach out and pull off his bad hairpig. I wouldn’t be able to help myself. 

So better I stay away from him.

Anyhoo, Dr. Constant was my doctor. He was the man. He provided great care and I even thought we bonded. His daughter’s a magazine editor in NYC. (I can’t tell you how many of my doctors have kids in journalism. Maybe that’s why I picked them? Or maybe rich doctors’ kids are the only ones who can afford to go into journalism. That seems more likely…)

But in 2008, while I was living in Crawfordville, a bill for $55 came to the house in Orlando. And it got tossed. As did the next one and the next and the next.

By the time I found out about it, it was 6 months later and I was in Orlando opening a very nasty collection notice.

Immediately called Dr. Constant’s office. Spoke with his office manager. Apologized upside-down and bass-ackwards, and read her my debit card numbers over the phone and immediately paid the bill. 

“So are we square now?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Am I still a patient?”

“In situations like this I need to talk to Dr. Constant and ask him whether we can continue to see you.”

No problem, I thought. Me and Dr. Constant are solid. It was just a $55 bill. Geez. I didn’t know…

“OK,” I said. “Well just call me back and let me know.”

I never heard from them again.

Last month I tried to refill my Synthroid — the pill I have to take every day to stay alive.

The pharmacy called back. Said the doctor wouldn’t refill.

I called Constant’s office. Spoke to the triage nurse.

“I need Synthroid to stay alive!” I said.

“You haven’t been to this office in almost two years!” she said.

“I know! I lost my health insurance!”

“Well you need to come in and be thoroughly checked before we prescribe anything for you.”

“But I’m in Tallahassee!”

In the end she grudgingly agreed to prescribe a week’s worth of Synthroid, with instructions to call the office and make an appointment upon my return to Orlando.

OK, I agreed. Then I stretched it out a few weeks by taking some of my sister’s old Synthroid. Thyroid problems run in families. They’re not sure why. Genetic link, I’m sure. The genome project will get to the bottom of that one, surely.

So I called Dr. Constant’s office yesterday. Said I’m out of synthroid and feeling rather hypothyroid. Need to be seen.

“You are not a patient in this office….” The office manager started to read off a long statement, as if typed out on my chart.

“But what about the triage nurse?”

“She did not read your chart,” the office manager said sweetly, and then began to read to me again about how I was no longer a patient at Dr Robert Constant’s office after my failure to pay a bill in a timely fashion and I was welcome to have my medical records forwarded and they would hold them for a period no longer than Ican’trememberhowmanydaystheysaid.

I was stunned.

But I rallied. I know this is a serious sitch.

Called an endo in Maitland. They balked. Said they’d need a “letter of recommendation” from Dr. Constant before they’d even consider seeing me.

Tried to call another good doctor I’d heard about in 2005. But he’s retired.

Had to sleep after that. Posted a blog. Left it up to others to hold me up right now, because I can’t go through any more calls and bureaucracy. Too muddled.

I’m in Tallahassee now. Family is taking me to the low-cost health clinic. I never gave them all the financial documents and paperwork they wanted. I hope they still let me see them. That stuff is extensive and Will still hadn’t filed the taxes and….zzzzz.

Life is so complicated. It’s nice when there are simple things you know to be true.

Like this.

ROBERT CONSTANT ENDOCRINOLOGIST OF ORLANDO you are guilty of Patient Abandonment. Look it up.

Your Hippocratic Oath has expired. Better get that fixed. Could be deadly to your soul, you bastard.

I’m dizzy. I’ve slept for days.

I looked at my nightstand this morning and it had 8 half-filled cups on it, three forks and two plates. 

Sure sign you’ve been in bed too long.

I don’t really know how my children have managed to feed, clothe and otherwise care for themselves these past few days. But I did hear Will buzzing around a couple times, so I assume there’s food in the fridge. And they’re gone, so I assume they got off to school alright.

They say you should never assume, but I dare you to go through a day without numerous assumptions. You can’t. 

My assumption is that I’m hypothyroid, since the “insider” at the endocrinologist who abandoned me finally stopped prescribing my life-saving Synthroid and I went on some generic stuff my sister had left over. Guess that stuff has a shelf life. Who knew?

It’s been a few weeks and here are my current symptoms:

Sleepy. Cannot wake u…..zzzz.

Dizzy and lightheaded and headachey and achey. Decided these could all be one symptom since they’re all neurological. I thinks.

Limbs feel like lead weights attached to them. Even elbows feel draggy. Weird.

Brain not functioning at optimum. Just read how boring this post is.

Hair is coarse. And — voila! — starting to fall out. But just in little strands. Probably the gray ones. Don’t worry, I’ve got lots of hair still. I challenge any disease to actually defeat The Hair. I’m not talking chemo and all those nasty manmade chemicals. I’m talking the disease itself. I’d have to be my ideal weight to lose that much hair. And then, well I’d just buy one of those tacky wigs Kim Zolciak is hawking. (That was for Mario from Bravo Fan, who reads me when she’s not writing. I love that Maria! She’s got the wit of a Gawker writer without the heartlessness and trying-too-hardedness-arrogance. Maria is the gold standard of snark blog writers. I hope she puts this testimonial on her resume. Love, Nancy Imperiale her Biggest Fan.)

I tend to wander.

I’m not going to type anymore because my fingers are very tired.

Don’t worry. If push comes to shove I will get someone to drag me to the emergency room for an installment of Adventures in Affordable Health Care: The Waiting Dying Slowly Room.

But if you know a nice endocrinologist who won’t make me fall asleep on their phone listening to “Boogie Fever” only to come back on and say they need nine letters from my 4th-grade teacher or they can’t see me.

I’d rather fall asleep forever than talk to one more of them. Truly.

But my kids wouldn’t like that. So Save Me.

I guess I actually Do think the world needs to save me. Go figure. That’ll make you-know-who very happy because they said that to me and I told them to go take a flying leap……

Check out this latest story about how Wall Street fatcats

Make me wanna hollah, the way they do my life.

are scheduled to receive $140 BILLION in compensation THIS YEAR.

That’s right, this year. 2009. A year when:

Middle-aged Americans suddenly lost their jobs and for the first time in their lives have had to worry how to pay for food;

Parents in California, Maryland, Iowa, and Orlando murdered their kids and spouses after job losses and financial woes;

We had 600 Starbucks stores disappear. Just poof! I always knew that when the aliens landed, they’d take Starbucks first. Bastards1

My darling friend Patti, who taught me so many things about being stylish and beautiful and a real woman, says her husband is a banker and doesn’t get diddly squat of those bonuses so leave him the hell alone.

Damn straight, Patster. Will do. It’s a scary jungle out there and nutballs are bearing arms and hunting down yuppies.

Not cool.

Just because somebody has a Tuscan kitchen, it’s no reason to terrorize them and their loved ones. Good god, people. 

But there is an anti-banker backlash building. No two ways. People want zee revolution!

I’ve been to Paris, where revolution got pretty ugly. Severed heads and crap. Yikes.

I hope we can proceed with more civility.

Bank of America just called. Just like they called yesterday. And the day before.

A soft-spoken Indian woman tried to rattle off to me how Bank of America is concerned that I haven’t made a credit card payment in three months.

I won’t tell you what I said to her. I will say that I apologized in advance and told her that the message was not for her, but was to be delivered to Bank of America.

I then told her to put me on the list of people not to be called and bothered anymore by Bank of America and its poor, lowly-paid, constantly abused Indian telephone workers.

I’m not being robbed blind by Bank of America anymore. I’m not paying that card. Whatever happens to me, happens.

Bank of America wouldn’t settle with me when I was trying to be reasonable. I made them a generous offer to pay them thousands of dollars, all at once, that I don’t even owe them. Not really. Not when they’ve upped my interest rate to 29% and slapped so many fees and fines and penalties on me that I could never pay that card now. I could literally spend the rest of my life trying to pay off that card and be unable. And they racked up the charges, not me. Go ahead and frisk my life. I don’t have any fancy clothes or boats or anything else I bought thanks to the largesse of BOA.

They just screwed me into being in debt with them. They have skewered me and put me on the end of their stick, to roast for life.

Said it before and I’ll say it again.

I’ve survived hurricanes, floods, forest fires, pandemics, cancer, being teased in elementary school, and being betrayed by all the people I thought were my best friends.

What the hell can Bank of America do to me that’s worse?

I’m unemployed, uninsured, and broke. Want to send me to the poorhouse? Want to send my kids to the orphanage?

Just try it.

Bring it on, you corporate overlords of greed. Bring it on.

I don’t like money. Honest. When it’s in my pocket all I want is to get rid of it.

Money makes people so happy, I love to give it to them. Truly.

It’s only through the intervention of family and friends that I gave up my once-vow to give all the money in my wallet to a bum if he happened to be standing at a street corner when I got stopped by the light. I’m sure I gave hundreds if not thousands before I stopped that. I have also handed out my car window an entire Whitman’s Sampler, a Bruce Springsteen CD, and a Lean Cuisine.

It’s not like I’m a saint. Or that I don’t like to buy stuff for myself. I love clothes, shoes and Clinique as much as the next girl.

I just don’t feel entitled to hoard money. Not with all the immediate needs in the world. When the spirit moves me, I give. If there’s money in my pocket and someone needs some, how easy is that to take care of?

You might think I’d be utterly destitute by now. But I’m not. Money keeps finding its way here and I’m a happy pass-through window.

Sometimes, however, my channel gets clogged too. Like right now. I’m busted. I’ve got to tap the Universal Money Keg again.

When this happens I temporarily become a true Capricorn. Nay, almost Republican.

Like yesterday I spent my last $40 on meds and food for the sick Tony, and then I was late to an event, and then my car ran out of gas.

I turned into Scrooge. I called my sister just to spew out how horrible my life is and to bitch at her about the loans I recently made to her, loans I not only gave willingly I practically forced on her. I don’t even expect her to pay me back. It was a gift.

But I just bitched up one side and down the other about how generous I am and the Universe just screws me in thanks!

Then, because I’m a real bitch, I told my sister I couldn’t talk anymore and hung up.

Can you say Nancy Imperiale is a Huge Tool? Huge.

I wasn’t even pissed at her. I was pissed that my Money Tree has shed all its leaves right now. I know it will grow new ones. Always does. 

In the meantime, the Universe, great leveler of Huge Tools, decided to pay me back for bitching at my innocent sister.

I lost my BlackBerry.

If I’m reduced to trying to conduct social media on a Jitterbug, it will be a huge reminder for me not to be Scroogey again. Nay, almost Republican. Shudder…….

I just heard from my friend Glenn Adams, retired Fire Captain from Georgia and fellow amateur investigator into the life and crimes of Gary Michael Hilton.

Hilton tortured and killed my classmate in my hometown. Hilton tortured and killed a Georgia girl not far from Glenn’s home.

We share a common goal: to find out everything Gary did, and bring it to light. Find the victims. Tell the families.

Glenn lives in Georgia and has a Cowboy twang and is all tough and a hunter and knows how to survive in the woods.

I’m a vegetarian English major from Florida and I only know how to live in a house in the middle of the woods.

We’ve never met. But I love Glenn like a true friend for life.

So imagine my dismay at hearing that he’s been hassled by Law Enforcement, again. 

He’s out there visible, not doing his work behind a computer like I do, so he’s an easier target for them. 

Here’s his most recent letter from the front lines. I’ll leave his misspellings in because he ain’t no college professor and I’m glad.

Please take care, Glenn:

Left out about noon yesterday, heading North for Coopers Creek WMA: Chattahoochee National Forest, to do some deer scouting and info gathering on Gary Hilton & Associates’ recently discovered Campsite/Staging Areas.

Talked to a Public Safety Employee from a North GA County that is very familiar with, GMH, and he and his wife hike the Herbert Reece Trail; Blood Mountain, GA where Meredith Hope Emerson was abducted 01/01/08.

In February 2007, he and his wife crossed paths with GMH. He said he looked into his eyes when they passed, and looked at his wife and told her there is something wrong with that man, his eyes were very strange. GMH, had two dogs. One was Dandy and the other was a small brown dog. Said he didn’t know the breed.

They had also met Meredith Hope Emerson on the trail, later in 2007.

On my return home, I also had the privilege of meeting ‘Fannin and Union Counties Finest’. A Fannin County Sheriff pulled me over at the county line after following me for miles. Union Co Sheriffs came in on the Help Call…’Three Cars in All’!

I was ordered to stick both hands out the window while the Deputy held his glock pointed at my head with the Safety off, turn around and back towards him, then drop to the doggie position and cross my feet, then as he approached me from the rear, to place my hands behind my back(felt like a (contortionist. Once handcuffed, I was frisked, top to bottom(keep in mind that I haven’t had a traffic ticket in 40 years).

It gets much more interesting. I’ll explain later. For those who want a link, all I can tell you to do is order the dashcam video…

I was then asked if they had my permission to search my PU Truck. I granted permission, knowing that if I didn’t, I would have to wait for a warrant to be issued. I was then placed in the back of the squad car with my hands cuffed behind my back for over an hour while my truck was very meticulously searched by all three Deputies, wearing laytex gloves, I might add.

When the first Union County Sheriff arrived, he told the Fannin County Sheriff’s Deputy, that he got the call and expected him to be closer to where hwy 60 and hwy 180 intersect. Then he said, “what happened, did he try to run?” I thought oh sh…!
Once my truck was cleared from the search. I was interrogated briefly and the tightly cinced handcuffs were removed.

After reading all personal receipts, mail, books, and pics, in my truck(one being the wooden reel with the frayed rope from the shed),when Meredith Hope Emerson, escaped and fought GMH for the final time.

All three deputies began asking questions about GMH, and why I was so knowledgeable about him.

I first ask if they knew about the Deadly Run movie? his IQ, duration and magnitude, considered his lack of a victim profile, etc. Sadly they said none of the above..

I was then asked to follow the Union County Sheriff to the Union County sheriff’s Department to share my information(more interrogation from the OIC and detective)

I asked if they knew about the Deadly Run Movie?

Sad, so Sad…they said no…

History will continue to repeat itself,IMO…

Knowledge, communication, a preplan which includes Mutual Aid from neighboring counties and adjacent states(NC & TN) and utilizing all resources(the public via the media)is a start to prevent tragic stranger abductions in the future…

Wolfscratch: til my rods point to me…

may they rest in peace…

these are some signs that something has gone arry in the universe.

Sinopse:

Após uma tarde de sexo gay, Mark tem uma overdose e é internado pela família numa instituição cristã que promete em 12 passos, transformar o jovem gay em hétero. Mas acaba por se apaixonar por um dos internos.

*Participação do Ben do Queer As Folk

Trailer: www.youtube.com/watch?v=C4l1qzffGQM

Download Aqui

The cold hand grasps my heart,

He will not let go.

The longer you are gone,

The harder he hold on.

Fear joins his grip,

And holds tight

Reluctant to relinquish the pain if instils into my soul.

“Please” I beg, tears falling like waterfalls.

Begging doesn’t help;

He has no compassion,

He is not human.

While he binds me,

I cannot remember,

I cannot feel the happiness,

That once warmed and filled my heart.

Find me,

“hurry” I beg you, please be quick.

Find me!

May your steps be guided by the wind,

May the stars lend you their light,

oceans please bless you wish their clam,

Fire provide you with growing passion,

Mother earth, bestow upon you her strength

And courage stolen from the lions heart.

You will need all to find me.

“come to me”

and take away the cold of loneliness.

I am normally bright and warm in my own company,

But tonight, please tonight.

Save me,

Find me.

Tonight the hand is cold and unwilling to liberate my heart.

Hurry on quick footsteps,

Come into my own arms,

And banish this icy pain.

Only in your arms will I be warm again.

Find me,

For your arms I need,

wrapped around me.

Find me,

My true love.

Today was so wonderful! Thank you Lord! You are my strength within! Without you I am nothing!!

Save me from the grave consequences of my broken spirit / My transgressions have worn & crushed my bones / Burned by desire’s fire / the devil’s flame lit in my eye / Please color my life with tones of righteousness / Grant me a willing spirit O Lord / Blessed and unworthy as You fill my days with Your light / When clouds gather blotting out Your Son’s rays / And Your tears fall washing away iniquity / Cleansing my soul for I am so filthy / O please save me from my blood guilt / Though unworthy of the blood spilt / You were crucified / You died / You loved me that much / You love me so much / You build up shelter and console / This broken heart that You make whole / Create in me a pure heart / I beg You cure me of this human plague / Save me from the darkness / Demons that possess / This human heart desperate / For Your caress / I confess I’ve done evil / You’re justified in judgment / You’re dignified / I’m foolish / For there is no delight in sin / This is my plight / This is my plee / Save me

Page from a storybook I loved as a little girl. Note the trunk full of shiny objects!

I feel para-lyzed.

Not like blowdarts with rare poison paralyzed. Not diving accident paralyzed. Not depressed paralyzed.

Just kinda blown a little away. By life. Recent events. Death. Tsunamis. Republicans.

I’ll get it together in no time, probably the next 10 minutes or so because I don’t have the attention span to stay paralyzed. Ask my anesthesiologists. It takes a ton of elephant juice to knock me out. I keep popping back up in the operating room, mumbling things about Mexico and tequila, and they have to turn up the dial on my sleepy juice. I once spent a week in the hospital on a constant morphine drip and I still had a headache.

Where was I? Oh yes, paralyzed. Maybe distracted is more apt. Bright shiny objects are everywhere. Fall! Food! Facebook!

Speaking of, I just left this post sitting here, rotting, while I spent half an hour on Facebook, adding people and messaging people and reading their messages and posts and updates. It’s how I manage my world these days. But it’s distracting. One minute I could be sending a client their press release, the next I’m taking the “What Planet Are You” quiz. (I actually once started writing my own Facebook Quiz called that, What Planet Are You? I researched the planets and started writing cute copy, but the project got cumbersome because do you know how many planets there are? And even though Pluto was excommunicated I kept it on there for comic value. So it started taking hours to write and code and then I was like, this was an interesting experiment, I’m done….)

Where was I? Oh yeah, being distracted and paralyzed.

Could be worse. I could be having a miscarriage in a business meeting.

Penelope Trunk, Brazen Careerist, writes all about that. She gets the Truth Award for the week from the Imperiale blog, and a permanent spot on the blogroll.

She has been majorly hated on for Tweeting her miscarriage, among other grave sins. Having sex. Admitting freely to having had a legal abortion. (Yegods!) I always liked her career advice but now she’s one of my personal heroes of the blogosphere. That would be people who tell the Truth. It isn’t easy and it’s always hard! She told a really, really, REALLY hard truth.

Penelope Trunk, your courage humbles me. Brava.

Now back to Tweeting. And the “What Color Is Your Aura?” quiz. And maybe some Wu-Tang Clan on imeem. And, and, and….

There comes a point when even those who strip bare emotionally close up tight, refusing to speak, to confess.  A moment where the secrets become the tether to a sense of self, an anchor to this world.  For if we don’t have it all figured out just yet, we have work left to do.  We have a purpose for the long, lonely hours, when the world around us sleeps and we would rather dream.

There’s a point when crying wolf seems fruitless.  There’s only so much that can be done for the lost without a cause.  Remaining lost, alone, leaves the glimmer of a cause.  There is a puzzle box to sift through and shift into place.  There are regrets and remiss actions to chastise oneself for. 

Swallowing a secret brings emotions, anxieties, a silent suffering.  It is something more than nothing.

Day Eighteen:  Save Me – The Pierces

There’s a lot you don’t know.
And there’s a lot I can’t tell.
Would you think I’m crazy
If you knew me that well?
Cause there’s a lot you don’t know
But you say you won’t go and I’d like to believe you.

But I know there’s no one left to save me.
(I am the only one.)
There’s no one left to save me.
(I am the only one.)
There’s no one left to save me.

Is it all in my head
Or somehow is it truth?
Is it something I said?
I can offer no proof.

Cause there’s a lot you don’t know
But you say you won’t go and I’d like to believe you.

But I know there’s no one left to save me.
(I am the only one.)
There’s no one left to save me.
(I am the only one.)
There’s no one left to save me…

Save me
Save me from you

kdLang: “Save me”

Scott Russo & the Big Big Bang’s rendition of ‘Save Me’. Scott Russo is the lead singer of Unwritten Law.