<?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-7263232193835294931</id><updated>2011-11-27T15:24:25.078-08:00</updated><category term='Love Story'/><category term='Humor'/><category term='Inspirational'/><category term='Facts'/><category term='Motivational'/><category term='Jokes'/><category term='Funny'/><title type='text'>My Favorite Mails</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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>35</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7263232193835294931.post-7312045561797601238</id><published>2010-05-23T23:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-23T23:55:08.881-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Inspirational'/><title type='text'>One Day I Decided To Quit ......</title><content type='html'>I quit my job, my relationship, my spirituality. I wanted to quit my life. I went to the woods to have one last talk with God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"God", I said. "Can you give me one good reason not to quit?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His answer surprised me. "Look around", He said. "Do you see the fern and the bamboo?" "Yes", I replied. When I planted the fern and the bamboo seeds, I took very good care of them. I gave them light. I gave them water. The fern quickly grew from the earth. Its brilliant green covered the floor. Yet nothing came from the bamboo seed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I did not quit on the bamboo. In the second year the Fern grew more vibrant and plentiful. And again, nothing came from the bamboo seed. But I did not quit on the bamboo. He said. "In the third year, there was still nothing from the bamboo seed.&lt;br /&gt;But I would not quit. In the fourth year, again, there was nothing from the bamboo seed. "I would not quit." He said. "Then in the fifth year a tiny sprout emerged from the earth. Compared to the fern it was seemingly small and insignificant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But just 6 months later the bamboo rose to over 100 feet tall. It had spent the five years growing roots. Those roots made it strong and gave it what it needed to survive. I would not give any of my creations a challenge it could not handle."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said to me. "Did you know, my child, that all this time you have been struggling, you have actually been growing roots."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I would not quit on the bamboo. I will never quit on you. "Don't compare yourself to others.." He said. "The bamboo had a different purpose than the fern ... Yet, they both make the forest beautiful."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your time will come, "God said to me. " You will rise high! "How high should I rise?" I asked. How high will the bamboo rise?" He asked in return. "As high as it can?" I questioned. "Yes. " He said, "Give me glory by rising as high as you can."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God will never give up on you.&lt;br /&gt;Never regret a day in your life.&lt;br /&gt;Good days give you happiness&lt;br /&gt;Bad days give you experiences;&lt;br /&gt;Both are essential to life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A happy and meaningful life requires our continuous input and creativity. It does not happen by chance. It happens because of our choices and actions. And each day we are given new opportunities to choose and act and, in doing so, we create our own unique journey." Keep going...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-7312045561797601238?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/7312045561797601238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=7312045561797601238' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/7312045561797601238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/7312045561797601238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2010/05/one-day-i-decided-to-quit.html' title='One Day I Decided To Quit ......'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-3556163177297979538</id><published>2010-05-23T01:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-23T01:54:04.742-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Inspirational'/><title type='text'>What happens in Heaven?</title><content type='html'>I dreamt that I went to Heaven and an angel was showing me around. We walked side-by-side inside a large workroom filled with angels.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;My angel guide stopped in front of the first section and said, 'This Is the Receiving Section. Here, all petitions to GOD said in prayer are Received..'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I looked around in this area, and it was terribly busy with so many angels sorting out petitions written on voluminous paper sheets and scraps from people all over the world..&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Then we moved on down a long corridor until we reached the second section.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The angel then said to me, 'This is the Packaging and Delivery Section. Here, the graces and blessings the people asked for are processed and delivered to the living persons who asked for them.'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I noticed again how busy it was there. There were many angels working hard at that station, since so many blessings had been requested and were being packaged for delivery to Earth&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Finally at the farthest end of the long corridor we stopped at the Door of a very small station To my great surprise, only one angel was Seated there, idly doing nothing. 'This is the Acknowledgment Section,' My angel friend quietly admitted to me. He seemed embarrassed 'How Is it that there is no work going on here?' I asked.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;'So sad,' the angel sighed. 'After people receive the blessings that they asked For, very few send back acknowledgments .' 'How does one acknowledge GOD's blessings?' I asked. 'Simple,' the angel answered. Just say, 'Thank you, LORD.''What blessings should they acknowledge?' I asked.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;'If you have food in the refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roof overhead and a place to sleep you are richer than 75% of this world. If you have money in the bank, in your wallet, and spare change in a dish, you are among the top 8% of the world's wealthy .'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also ......&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;' If you woke up this morning with more health than illness ... You are more blessed than the many who will not even survive this day .'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;'If you have never experienced the fear in battle, the loneliness of imprisonment, the agony of torture, or the pangs of starvation . You are ahead of 700 million people in the world.'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;'If your parents are still alive and still married ...you are very rare .'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;'If you can hold your head up and smile, you are not the norm, you're unique to all those in doubt and despair.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-3556163177297979538?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/3556163177297979538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=3556163177297979538' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/3556163177297979538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/3556163177297979538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-happens-in-heaven.html' title='What happens in Heaven?'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-6950464704970523568</id><published>2010-05-23T01:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-23T01:50:35.798-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Inspirational'/><title type='text'>Difference</title><content type='html'>You don't actually have to take the quiz. Just read straight through, and you'll get the point, an awesome one. .....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take this quiz:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world.&lt;br /&gt;2. Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.&lt;br /&gt;3. Name the last five winners of the Miss America contest.&lt;br /&gt;4. Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize.&lt;br /&gt;5. Name the last half dozen Academy Award winners for best actor actress.&lt;br /&gt;6. Name the last decade's worth of World Series winners.&lt;br /&gt;How did you do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The point is, none of us remember the headliners of yesterday. These are&lt;br /&gt;no second-rate achievers. They are the best in their fields.&lt;br /&gt;But the applause dies. Awards tarnish. Achievements are forgotten.&lt;br /&gt;Accolades and certificates are buried with their owners.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's another quiz. See how you do on this one:&lt;br /&gt;1. List a few teachers who aided your journey through school.&lt;br /&gt;2. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time.&lt;br /&gt;3. Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile.&lt;br /&gt;4. Think of a few people who have made you feel, appreciated and special.&lt;br /&gt;5. Think of five people you enjoy spending time with.&lt;br /&gt;6. Name half a dozen heroes whose stories have inspired you. Easier?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lesson: The people who make a difference in your life are not&lt;br /&gt;the ones with the most credentials, the most money, or the most awards. They are the ones that care.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-6950464704970523568?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/6950464704970523568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=6950464704970523568' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/6950464704970523568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/6950464704970523568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2010/05/difference.html' title='Difference'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-6966001909548802795</id><published>2009-03-18T00:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T00:27:19.133-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Funny'/><title type='text'>I love my doctor</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Q: Doctor, I've heard that cardiovascular exercise can prolong life; is this true? &lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;A:&lt;/span&gt; Your heart is only good for so many beats, and that's it.... don't waste them on exercise. Everything wears out eventually. Speeding up your heart will not make you live longer; that's like saying you can extend the lifeof your car by driving it faster. Want to live longer? Take a nap. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Q: Should I cut down on meat and eat more fruits and vegetables? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;A:&lt;/span&gt; You must grasp logistical efficiencies. What does a cow eat? Hay and corn. And what are these? Vegetables. So a steak is nothing more than an efficient mechanism of delivering vegetables to your system. Need grain? Eat chicken. Beef is also a good source of field grass (green leafy vegetable). And a pork chop can give you 100% of your recommended daily allowance of vegetable products.  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Q: Should I reduce my alcohol intake? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;A:&lt;/span&gt; No, not at all. Wine is made from fruit. Brandy is distilled wine, that means they take the water out of the fruity bit so you get even more of the goodness that way. Beer is also made out of grain. Bottoms up! &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Q: How can I calculate my body/fat ratio? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A:&lt;/span&gt; Well, if you have a body and you have fat, your ratio is one to one. If you have two bodies, your ratio is two to one, etc. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Q: What are some of the advantages of participating in a regular exercise program? &lt;br /&gt;A:&lt;/span&gt; Can't think of a single one, sorry. My philosophy is: No Pain...Good! &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Q: Aren't fried foods bad for you? &lt;br /&gt;A:&lt;/span&gt; YOU'RE NOT LISTENING!!! .... Foods are fried these days in vegetable oil. In fact, they're permeated in it. How could getting more vegetables be bad for you?  &lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Q: Will sit-ups help prevent me from getting a little soft around the middle? &lt;br /&gt;A:&lt;/span&gt; Definitely not! When you exercise a muscle, it gets bigger. You should only be doing sit-ups if you want a bigger stomach. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Q: Is chocolate bad for me? &lt;br /&gt;A:&lt;/span&gt; Are you crazy? HELLO Cocoa beans! Another vegetable!!! It's the best! feel-good food around!&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Q: Is swimming good for your figure? &lt;br /&gt;A:&lt;/span&gt; If swimming is good for your f igure, explain whales to me. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Q: Is getting in-shape important for my lifestyle? &lt;br /&gt;A:&lt;/span&gt; Hey! ! 'Round' is a shape! &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Well, I hope this has cleared up any misconceptions you may have had about  food and diets. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;And remember:&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;'Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways - Chardonnay in one hand - chocolate in the other - body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;'WOO HOO, What a Ride' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-6966001909548802795?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/6966001909548802795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=6966001909548802795' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/6966001909548802795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/6966001909548802795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-love-my-doctor.html' title='I love my doctor'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7263232193835294931.post-7379321350801570259</id><published>2009-03-03T04:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T04:24:08.553-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Funny'/><title type='text'>Nine Words Women Use</title><content type='html'>1) &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Fine:&lt;/span&gt;  This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Five Minutes:&lt;/span&gt;  If she is getting dressed, this means one-half hour.  Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Nothing:&lt;/span&gt;  This is the calm before the storm.  This means something, and you should be on your toes.  Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Go Ahead:&lt;/span&gt;  This is a dare, not permission. Don't Do It!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Loud Sigh:&lt;/span&gt;  This is actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men.  A loud sigh means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you about nothing.  (Refer back to # 3 for the meaning of nothing.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;That's Okay:&lt;/span&gt;  This is one of the most dangerous statements a woman can make to a man. That's okay means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Thanks:&lt;/span&gt;  A woman is thanking you, do not question, or faint. Just say you're welcome.  (This is true, unless she says 'Thanks a lot' - which is PURE sarcasm and she is not thanking you at all.  DO NOT say 'you're welcome' -- that will bring on a 'whatever'.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Whatever:&lt;/span&gt; Is a woman's way of saying F-- YOU!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Don't worry about it, I've got it:&lt;/span&gt;  Another dangerous statement , meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking, 'What's wrong?' For the woman's response, refer to # 3.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-7379321350801570259?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/7379321350801570259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=7379321350801570259' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/7379321350801570259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/7379321350801570259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2009/03/nine-words-women-use.html' title='Nine Words Women Use'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-3712774517014661109</id><published>2009-03-03T02:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T02:08:58.072-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fire Yogi - It happens only in India</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/Sa0BfEv1vHI/AAAAAAAAAOc/lyxlAoVb3OI/s1600-h/fire+yogi.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/Sa0BfEv1vHI/AAAAAAAAAOc/lyxlAoVb3OI/s320/fire+yogi.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308901169101651058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Fire Yogi is a 47 minute documentary exploring a Yogi who has the extraordinary ability to use a unique breathing technique to get into union with Fire. This documentary portrays a rare and unusual Fire Ritual performed by the Yogi and the subsequent chemical analysis of his clothing &amp; physical tests that examine this supernatural phenomenon. The Yogi has performed this Fire Ritual for a total of 1000 days over the last 45 years. The Yogi, weighing a mere 94 pounds (43 kilos), has been able to survive on only two bananas and a mere glass of milk with a few drops of water twice a day for the last 28 years. Many aspects of the Yogi are on the edge of unbelievability, while at the same time highlighting the power and endurance of human mind, body and spirit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yogi Rambhauswami, the 63-year-old yogi, claims that in 1975 he stopped drinking more than a few drops of water each day, that two years later he began limiting his daily diet to a banana and a cup of milk, and that he sleeps only three hours each night. By all rights the Sanskrit scholar should be malnourished and dehydrated, but in director and producer Mike Vasan's documentary, he appears to be a relatively normal, if somewhat slender, senior citizen. Rambhauswami's real claim to fame, however, is his elaborate fire ritual. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ritual begins with his taking a bath, then moving on to meditation, pranayama, and a ceremony honoring Ganesha. The fire portion of the ritual is conducted over a sunken pit, into which Rambhauswami offers rice, coconut, sugar cane, and gallons of ghee. As he's doing this, he goes into a deep meditative state. He enters the blaze and rolls around, protected by only a wool shawl, and remains there, in the fire, for up to 10 minutes at a time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Rambhau emerges from the flames, though, there's little evidence that he's just been charbroiled. Even his shawl is intact, its preservation credited to a protective aura. The shawl was later tested for fire retardant, and results showed that the material hadn't been treated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-3712774517014661109?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/3712774517014661109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=3712774517014661109' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/3712774517014661109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/3712774517014661109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2009/03/fire-yogi-it-happens-only-in-india.html' title='Fire Yogi - It happens only in India'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/Sa0BfEv1vHI/AAAAAAAAAOc/lyxlAoVb3OI/s72-c/fire+yogi.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7263232193835294931.post-6350472016729451305</id><published>2009-02-24T01:08:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T22:53:19.959-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motivational'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Inspirational'/><title type='text'>The Secret to a Lasting Marriage: Embrace Imperfection</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SaTq1K_J5kI/AAAAAAAAAOU/OPEJsF9HdQs/s1600-h/1022366_wedding_rings_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 199px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SaTq1K_J5kI/AAAAAAAAAOU/OPEJsF9HdQs/s320/1022366_wedding_rings_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306624460152497730" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When i was a little girl, my mom liked to make breakfast food for dinner every now and then. And I remember one night in particular when she had made breakfast after a long, hard day at work. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;On that evening so long ago, my mom placed a plate of eggs, sausage, and extremely burned toast in front of my dad. I remember waiting to see if anyone noticed! &lt;br /&gt;Yet, all my dad did was reached for his toast, smiled at my mom, and asked me how my day was at school. I don't remember what I told him that night, but I do remember watching him smear butter and jelly on that toast and eat every bite!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got up from the table that evening, I remember hearing my mom apologize to &lt;br /&gt;my dad for burning the toast. And I'll never forget what he said: "Baby, I love burned toast." &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Later that night, I went to kiss Daddy good night and I asked him if he really liked his toast burned. He wrapped me in his arms and said, "Debbie, your mommy put in a hard day at work today and she's real tired. And besides, a little burnt toast never hurt anyone!" &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;In bed that night, I thought about that scene at dinner...and the kindness my daddy showed my mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To this day, it's a cherished memory from my childhood that I'll never forget. &lt;br /&gt;And it's one that came to mind just recently when Jack and I sat down to eat dinner. &lt;br /&gt;I had arrived home late...as usual...and decided we would have breakfast food for dinner. Some things never change, I suppose! To my amazement, I found the ingredients I needed, and quickly began to cook eggs, turkey sausage, and buttered toast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking I had things under control, I glanced through the mail for the day. It was only a few minutes later that I remembered that I had forgotten to take the toast out of the oven! &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Now, had it been any other day -- and had we had more than two pieces of bread in the entire house --I would have started all over. But it had  been one of those days and I had just used up the last two pieces of bread. So burnt toast it was! &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;As I set the plate down in front of Jack, I waited for a comment about the toast. But all I got was a "Thank you!" I watched as he ate bite by bite, all the time waiting for some comment about the toast. But instead, all Jack said was, "Babe, this is great. Thanks for cooking tonight. I know you had a hard day." &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;As I took a bite of my charred toast that night, I thought about my mom and dad...&lt;br /&gt;how burnt toast hadn't been a deal-breaker for them. And I quietly thanked God for giving me a marriage where burnt toast wasn't a deal-breaker either! &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;You know, life is full of imperfect things...and imperfect people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not the best housekeeper or cook. And you might be surprised to find out that Jack isn't the perfect husband! He likes to play his music too loud, he will always find a way to avoid yard work, and he watches far too many sports. Believe it or not, watching " Golf Academy " is not my idea of a great night at home! &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;But somehow in the past 37 years Jack and I have learned to accept the imperfections in each other. Over time, we have stopped trying to make each other in our own mold and have learned to celebrate our differences. You might say that we've learned to love each other for who we really are! &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;For example, I like to take my time, I'm a perfectionist, and I'm  even-tempered. I tend to work too much and sleep too little.  Jack, on the other hand, is disciplined, studious, an early riser, and is a marketer's dream consumer. I count pennies and Jack could care less! Where he is strong, I am weak, and vice versa. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;And while you might say that Jack and I are opposites, we're also very much alike. I can look at him and tell you what he's thinking. I can predict his actions before&lt;br /&gt;he finalizes his plans. On the other hand, he knows whether I'm troubled or not the moment I enter a room. We share the same goals. We love the same things. And we are still best friends. We've traveled through many valleys and enjoyed many  mountaintops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet, at the same time, Jack and I must work every minute of every day to make this thing called "marriage" work! &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;What I've learned over the years is that learning to accept each other's faults - and choosing to celebrate each other's differences - is the one of the most important keys to creating a healthy, growing, and lasting marriage relationship. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;And that's my prayer for you today. That you will learn to take the  good, the bad, and the ugly parts of your married life and lay them at the feet of GOD. Because in the end, He's the only One who will be able to give you a marriage where burnt toast isn't a deal-breaker! &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Have a great day! May God bless your marriage&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-6350472016729451305?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/6350472016729451305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=6350472016729451305' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/6350472016729451305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/6350472016729451305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2009/02/secret-to-lasting-marriage-embrace.html' title='The Secret to a Lasting Marriage: Embrace Imperfection'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SaTq1K_J5kI/AAAAAAAAAOU/OPEJsF9HdQs/s72-c/1022366_wedding_rings_2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7263232193835294931.post-4812251127767162925</id><published>2009-02-24T00:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T00:53:17.533-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Funny'/><title type='text'>The 7 Habits of Men &amp; Women</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Men:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. All men are extremely busy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Although they are so busy, they still have time for women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Although they have time for women, they don't really care for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Although they don't really care for them, they always have one around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Although they always have one around them, they always try their luck with others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Although they try their luck with others, they get really pissed off if the woman leaves them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Although the woman leaves them they still don't learn from their mistakes and still try their luck with others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Women:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. The most important thing for a woman is financial security.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Although this is so important, they still go out and buy expensive clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Although they always buy expensive clothes, they never have something to wear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Although they never have something to wear, they always dress beautifully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Although they always dress beautifully, their clothes are always just "An old rag".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Although their clothes are always "just an old rag", they still expect you to compliment them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Although they expect you to compliment them, when you do, they don't believe you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-4812251127767162925?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/4812251127767162925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=4812251127767162925' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/4812251127767162925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/4812251127767162925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2009/02/7-habits-of-men-women.html' title='The 7 Habits of Men &amp; Women'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-5431886171548012691</id><published>2009-02-10T23:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T10:55:40.986-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motivational'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Inspirational'/><title type='text'>Attitude of Gratitude &amp; Dancing in the Rain</title><content type='html'>The date was July 16, 2008. It was late in the afternoon and I was sitting in my hotel room in Louisville, Kentucky. I was scheduled to speak that evening for the Kentucky Association of School Administrators (KASA). I was a little "down in the dumps." I hadn't gotten to exercise lately because of my traveling schedule and recently I'd experienced some mild bouts of vertigo (that inner ear condition that can cause the room to start spinning.) You got it; speaking and "spinning" are not good partners! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My keynote presentation was scheduled for 7:00 PM, but I had been invited to show up at 6:00 to see a performance they said I'd enjoy. Little did I know that I was about to see something I would never forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They introduced the young musician. Welcome; Mr. Patrick Henry Hughes. He was rolled onto the stage in his wheelchair, and began to play the piano. His fingers danced across the keys as he made beautiful music. He then began to sing as he played, and it was even more beautiful. For some reason, however, I knew that I was seeing something special. There was this aura about him that I really can't explain and the smile, his smile was magic!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About ten minutes into Patrick's performance, someone came on the stage and said, "I'd like to share a 7-minute video titled, The Patrick Henry Hughes story." And the lights went dim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patrick Henry Hughes was born with no eyes, and a tightening of the joints which left him crippled for life. However, as a child, he was fitted with artificial eyes and placed in a wheelchair. Before his first birthday, he discovered the piano. His mom said, "I could hit any note on the piano, and within one or two tries, he'd get it." By his second birthday, he was playing requests (You Are My Sunshine, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star). His father was ecstatic. "We might not play baseball, but we can play music together."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, Patrick is a junior at the University of Louisville. His father attends classes with him and he's made nearly all A's, with the exception of 3 B's He's also a part of the 214 member marching band. You read it right - the marching band! He's a blind, wheelchair-bound trumpet player; and he and his father do it together. They attend all the band practices and the half-time performance in front of thousands. His father rolls and rotates his son around the field to the cheers of Patrick's fans. In order to attend Patrick's classes and every band practice, his father works the graveyard shift at UPS. Patrick said, "My dad's my hero."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But even more than his unbelievable musical talent, it was Patrick's "attitude of gratitude" that touched my soul. On stage, between songs, he would talk to the audience about his life and about how blessed he was. He said, "God made me blind and unable to walk. BIG DEAL! He gave me the ability - the musical gifts I have the great opportunity to meet new people." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When his performance was over, Patrick and his father were on the stage together. The crowd rose to their feet and cheered for over five minutes. It gave me giant goose bumps!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life was ready to meet Patrick Henry Hughes. I needed a hero, and I found one for the ages. If I live to be a hundred, I'll never forget that night, that smile, that music, but most importantly, that wonderful "attitude of gratitude." I returned to Chicago and shared Patrick's story with my wife, my friends, and our team at Simple Truths. About two weeks later, I received a letter from a friend. He said, "Mac, I don't know who said it, but I think you'll love this quote." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;"Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass...&lt;br /&gt;it's about learning how to dance in the rain!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought...that's it! We all face adversity in our life. However, it's not the adversity, but how we react to it that will determine the joy and happiness in our life. During tough times, do we spend too much time feeling sorry for ourselves, or, can we, with gratitude...learn how to dance in the rain?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It almost sounds too simple to feel important, but one word...gratitude, can change your attitude, thus, your life, forever. Sarah Breathnack said it best...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;"When we choose not to focus on what is missing from our lives but are grateful for the abundance that's present....we experience heaven on earth."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-5431886171548012691?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/5431886171548012691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=5431886171548012691' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/5431886171548012691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/5431886171548012691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2009/02/attitude-of-gratitude-dancing-in-rain.html' title='Attitude of Gratitude &amp; Dancing in the Rain'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-2011031174694710592</id><published>2009-02-10T23:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T21:40:24.692-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motivational'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Inspirational'/><title type='text'>I have learned</title><content type='html'>I've learned that, no matter what happens, how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I've learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles  things: a rainy day, the elderly, lost luggage &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I've learned that, regardless of your relationship with your parents, you'll miss them when they're gone from your life. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;I've learned that making a 'living' is not the same thing as making a 'life'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I've learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's  mitt on both hands.&lt;br /&gt;You need to be able to throw something back&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I've learned that if you pursue happiness, it will elude you. But, if you focus on your family, your friends, the needs of others, your work and doing the very best you can, happiness will find you &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I've learned that whenever I decide  something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have to be one.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I've learned that every day, you should reach out and touch someone. People love that human touch - holding hands, a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I've learned that I still have a lot to learn.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-2011031174694710592?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/2011031174694710592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=2011031174694710592' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/2011031174694710592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/2011031174694710592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-have-learned.html' title='I have learned'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-809528844741171232</id><published>2009-02-10T23:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T23:04:26.490-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motivational'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Inspirational'/><title type='text'>The Wooden Bowl</title><content type='html'>A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year old grandson. The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;The family ate together at the table. But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off  his spoon onto the floor.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth. The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess. We must do something about father,' said the son. 'I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor.' &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner. Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a  wooden bowl. When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction, sometimes he had a  tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped  a fork or spilled food. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The four-year-old watched it all in silence. One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly, 'What are you making?' Just as sweetly, the  boy responded, 'Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food in  when I grow up. ' The four-year-old smiled and  went back to work.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The words so struck the parents so that they were speechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;That evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table. For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-809528844741171232?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/809528844741171232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=809528844741171232' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/809528844741171232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/809528844741171232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2009/02/wooden-bowl.html' title='The Wooden Bowl'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-3819831152397139380</id><published>2009-02-03T23:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T23:44:31.654-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motivational'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Inspirational'/><title type='text'>Why Some People Have All The Luck</title><content type='html'>I set out to examine luck, 10 years ago. Why are some people always in the right place at the right time, while others consistently experience ill fortune? I placed advertisements in national newspapers asking for people who felt consistently lucky or unlucky to contact me.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Hundreds of extraordinary men and women volunteered for my research and over the years, have been interviewed by me. I have monitored their lives and had them take part in experiments. The results reveal that although these people have almost no insight into the causes of their luck, their thoughts and behaviour are responsible for much of their good and bad fortune. Take the case of seemingly chance opportunities. Lucky people consistently encounter such opportunities, whereas unlucky people do not.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I carried out a simple experiment to discover whether this was due to differences in their ability to spot such opportunities. I gave both lucky and unlucky people a newspaper, and asked them to look through it and &lt;br /&gt;tell me how many photographs were inside. I had secretly placed a large message halfway through the newspaper saying: 'Tell the experimenter you have seen this and win $50'.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;This message took up half of the page and was written in type that was more than two inches high. It was staring everyone straight in the face, but the unlucky people tended to miss it and the lucky people tended to spot it.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Unlucky people are generally more tense than lucky people, and this anxiety disrupts their ability to notice the unexpected.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;As a result, they miss opportunities because they are too focused on looking for something else. They go to parties intent on finding their perfect partner and so miss opportunities to make good friends. They look through newspapers determined to find certain types of job advertisements and miss other types of jobs.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Lucky people are more relaxed and open, and therefore see what is there rather than just what they are looking for. My research eventually revealed that lucky people generate good fortune via four principles. They are skilled at creating and noticing chance opportunities, make lucky decisions by listening to their intuition, create self-fulfilling prophesies via positive expectations, and adopt a resilient attitude that transforms bad luck into good.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I wondered towards the end of the work, whether these principles could be used to create good luck. I asked a group of volunteers to spend a month carrying out exercises designed to help them think and behave like a lucky person. Dramatic results! These exercises helped them spot chance opportunities, listen to their intuition, expect to be lucky, and be more resilient to bad luck. One month later, the volunteers returned and described what had happened. The results were dramatic: 80 per cent of people were now happier, more satisfied with their lives and, perhaps most important of all, luckier.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The lucky people had become even luckier and the unlucky had become lucky. Finally, i had found the elusive 'luck factor'. Here are four top tips for becoming lucky:&lt;br /&gt;   1) Listen to your gut instincts ^ they are normally right.&lt;br /&gt;   2) Be open to new experiences and breaking your normal routine.&lt;br /&gt;   3) Spend a few moments each day remembering things that went well.&lt;br /&gt;   4) Visualise yourself being lucky before an important meeting or telephone call.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Have a Lucky day and work for it.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The happiest people in the world are not those who have no problems, but those who learn to live with things that are less than perfect.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The author of `The Luck Factor' teaches at the University of Hertfordshire.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-3819831152397139380?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/3819831152397139380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=3819831152397139380' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/3819831152397139380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/3819831152397139380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2009/02/why-some-people-have-all-luck.html' title='Why Some People Have All The Luck'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-886371551112520926</id><published>2009-02-02T22:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T22:52:00.605-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cheers to Uncle Sam</title><content type='html'>When in England at a fairly large conference, Colin Powell was asked by the Archbishop of Canterbury if our plans for Iraq were just an example of empire building by George Bush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He answered by saying, 'Over the years, the  United States has sent many of its fine young men and women into great peril to fight for freedom beyond our borders. The  only amount of land we have ever asked for in return is enough to bury those that did not return.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;============================================================================&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a conference in France where a number of international engineers were taking part, including French and American.  During a break, one of the French engineers came back into the room saying, 'Have you heard the latest dumb stunt Bush has done? He has sent an aircraft carrier to Indonesia to help the tsunami victims. What does he intended to do, bomb them?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Boeing engineer stood up and replied quietly: 'Our carriers have three hospitals on board that can treat several hundred people; they are nuclear powered and can supply emergency electrical power to shore facilities; they have three cafeterias with the capacity to feed 3,000 people three meals a day; they can produce several thousand gallons of fresh water from sea water each day, and they carry half a dozen helicopters for use in transporting victims and injured to and from their flight deck. We have eleven such ships; how many does France have?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;=============================================================================&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A  U.S. Navy Admiral was attending a naval conference that included Admirals from the U.S. , English, Canadian, Australian and French Navies. At a cocktail reception, he found himself standing with a large group of officers that included personnel from most of those countries.  Everyone was chatting away in English as they sipped their drinks but a French admiral suddenly complained that, whereas Europeans learn many languages, Americans learn only English. He then asked, 'Why is it that we always have to speak English in these conferences rather than speaking French?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without  hesitating, the American Admiral replied, 'Maybe it's because the Brits, Canadians, Aussies and Americans arranged it so you wouldn't have to speak German.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;==============================================================================&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Robert Whiting, an elderly gentleman of 83, arrived in Paris by  plane. At French Customs, he took a few minutes to locate his passport in his carry  on.&lt;br /&gt;"You have been to France before, monsieur?" the customs officer asked sarcastically.&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Whiting admitted that he had been to France previously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Then you should know enough to have your passport ready."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The American said, ''The last time I was here, I didn't have to  show it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Impossible.  Americans always have to show your passports on arrival in France!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The American senior gave the Frenchman a long hard look. Then he quietly explained, ''Well, when I came ashore at Omaha Beach on D-Day in 1944 to help liberate this country, I couldn't find a single Frenchman to show a passport to."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-886371551112520926?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/886371551112520926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=886371551112520926' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/886371551112520926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/886371551112520926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2009/02/when-in-england-at-fairly-large.html' title='Cheers to Uncle Sam'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-7748729830038569721</id><published>2009-01-22T20:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T20:48:08.438-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Funny'/><title type='text'>Picture speaks a 1000 words</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXlLylV9GxI/AAAAAAAAANg/HhZ_LYPriKw/s1600-h/fun+mail.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 233px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXlLylV9GxI/AAAAAAAAANg/HhZ_LYPriKw/s320/fun+mail.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294346169340467986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;(Here's the reply the teacher received the following day)&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Mrs. Jones,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish to clarify that I am not now, nor have I ever been, an exotic dancer.  &lt;br /&gt;I work at Home Depot and I told my daughter how hectic it was last week before the blizzard hit.  I told her we sold out every single shovel we had, and then I found one more in the back room, and that several people were fighting over who would get it.    Her picture doesn't show me dancing around a pole.  It's supposed to depict me selling the last snow shovel we had at Home Depot.&lt;br /&gt;From now on I will remember to check her homework more thoroughly before she turns it in. &lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;Mrs.  Smith&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-7748729830038569721?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/7748729830038569721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=7748729830038569721' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/7748729830038569721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/7748729830038569721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2009/01/picture-speaks-1000-words.html' title='Picture speaks a 1000 words'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXlLylV9GxI/AAAAAAAAANg/HhZ_LYPriKw/s72-c/fun+mail.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7263232193835294931.post-3899773461388433168</id><published>2009-01-20T04:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T04:18:48.189-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Funny'/><title type='text'>World's greatest magician</title><content type='html'>Three world famous magicians were in the bar drinking and boasting about their achievements. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The first one said," During my latest show, I made three women from the audience disappear, it was so convincing that their relatives started panicking, no one could find the trick" &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The second one said, " Hey, that is nothing, during one of my open air shows I made the Municipality building disappear and the entire town was searching for it" &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The third one sighed and said," Both of you are so local, I went to Paris and made the Eiffel Tower disappear for a full one hour, it was live on the TV, entire France was searching for the building &amp; no one had a clue". &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Just then an Indian walked into the bar and the three magicians suddenly turned quiet, gave each other fugitive glances and started to slip towards the door. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;A Bartender watching this got curious and asked one of the magicians, "Hey what happened  ? Who is that guy ? " &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;One of the magicians whispered, " He is the World's greatest magician, he has done the biggest disappearing trick of all times, we are all mere amateurs compared  with what he has done. His name is Ramalinga Raju. He has made USD 1.5 billion disappear from his company's balance sheet in front of everyone's eyes, and the entire world is still looking for it "&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-3899773461388433168?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/3899773461388433168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=3899773461388433168' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/3899773461388433168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/3899773461388433168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2009/01/worlds-greatest-magician.html' title='World&apos;s greatest magician'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-5474617385326484413</id><published>2009-01-16T03:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T03:17:32.824-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motivational'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Inspirational'/><title type='text'>The Buzzard, The Bat &amp; The Bumblebee...!</title><content type='html'>1. If you put a buzzard in a pen that is 6 feet by 8 feet and is entirely open at the top, the bird, in spite of its ability to fly, will be an absolute prisoner. The reason is that a buzzard always begins a flight from the ground with a run of 10 to 12 feet. Without space to run, as is its habit, it will not even attempt to fly, but will remain a prisoner for life in a small jail with no top.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. The ordinary bat that flies around at night, a remarkably nimble creature in the air, cannot take off from a level place If it is placed on the floor or flat ground, all it can do is shuffle about helplessly and, no doubt, painfully, until it reaches some slight elevation from which it can throw itself into the air. Then, at once, &lt;br /&gt;it takes off like a flash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. A bumblebee, if dropped into an open tumbler, will be there until it dies, unless it is taken out. It never sees the means of escape at the top, but persists in trying to find some way out through the sides near the bottom. It will seek a way where none exists, until it completely destroys itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In many ways, we are like the buzzard, the bat, and the bumblebee. We struggle about with all our problems and frustrations, never realizing that all we have to do is look up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sorrow looks back, worry looks around, but Faith looks up!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-5474617385326484413?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/5474617385326484413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=5474617385326484413' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/5474617385326484413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/5474617385326484413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2009/01/buzzard-bat-bumblebee.html' title='The Buzzard, The Bat &amp; The Bumblebee...!'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-6990586987612084075</id><published>2009-01-16T00:23:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T01:26:31.881-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Funny'/><title type='text'>Friday Humor</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBSCOeOzpI/AAAAAAAAALk/LmlyRl1zf9c/s1600-h/11.PNG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 244px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBSCOeOzpI/AAAAAAAAALk/LmlyRl1zf9c/s320/11.PNG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291819760358444690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBSBucpV0I/AAAAAAAAALc/GCvzCPhlk_U/s1600-h/10.PNG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 246px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBSBucpV0I/AAAAAAAAALc/GCvzCPhlk_U/s320/10.PNG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291819751761860418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBSBXuY3MI/AAAAAAAAALU/F-8pQLniQq4/s1600-h/9.PNG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 251px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBSBXuY3MI/AAAAAAAAALU/F-8pQLniQq4/s320/9.PNG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291819745662262466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBSBAtZWFI/AAAAAAAAALM/iBFyT7XtTJI/s1600-h/8.PNG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBSBAtZWFI/AAAAAAAAALM/iBFyT7XtTJI/s320/8.PNG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291819739484084306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBOQxFOB3I/AAAAAAAAAK8/MIzpy0gJM0M/s1600-h/7.PNG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 275px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBOQxFOB3I/AAAAAAAAAK8/MIzpy0gJM0M/s320/7.PNG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291815612120434546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBM5yOPnBI/AAAAAAAAAK0/cS6HLxWnyGU/s1600-h/6.PNG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 253px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBM5yOPnBI/AAAAAAAAAK0/cS6HLxWnyGU/s320/6.PNG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291814117778103314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBK1jDnNbI/AAAAAAAAAKU/gcWXPRu3QDY/s1600-h/3.PNG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 247px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBK1jDnNbI/AAAAAAAAAKU/gcWXPRu3QDY/s320/3.PNG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291811845964248498" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBKYn8TDuI/AAAAAAAAAKM/zSzscoWjktk/s1600-h/2.PNG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 253px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBKYn8TDuI/AAAAAAAAAKM/zSzscoWjktk/s320/2.PNG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291811349059538658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBJtaxOMsI/AAAAAAAAAKE/hBoLIRhiYGw/s1600-h/1.PNG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 148px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBJtaxOMsI/AAAAAAAAAKE/hBoLIRhiYGw/s320/1.PNG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291810606789046978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-6990586987612084075?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/6990586987612084075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=6990586987612084075' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/6990586987612084075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/6990586987612084075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2009/01/friday-humor.html' title='Friday Humor'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBSCOeOzpI/AAAAAAAAALk/LmlyRl1zf9c/s72-c/11.PNG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7263232193835294931.post-8449044833717683165</id><published>2009-01-16T00:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T00:08:34.979-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ek Chutki Code</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBAd8J5SmI/AAAAAAAAAJk/XSa48vDPsAY/s1600-h/mail.google.com.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBAd8J5SmI/AAAAAAAAAJk/XSa48vDPsAY/s200/mail.google.com.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291800445268347490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ek Chutki code ki keemat tum kya jaano HR Babu?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ishwar ka ashirwaad hota hai ek chutki code&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Developer ke sar ka taj hota hai ek chutki code&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Har bench resource ka khwaab hota hai ek chutki code"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hamari Hindi filmon ki tarah hamare&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Projects mein aakhir tak sab kuch theek ho jaata hai ……&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happyzz Endingzzz ……&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aur agar aisa na ho to samjho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Project abhi baaki hai mere DOST ……"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-8449044833717683165?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/8449044833717683165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=8449044833717683165' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/8449044833717683165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/8449044833717683165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2009/01/ek-chutki-code.html' title='Ek Chutki Code'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SXBAd8J5SmI/AAAAAAAAAJk/XSa48vDPsAY/s72-c/mail.google.com.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7263232193835294931.post-2737068912167590072</id><published>2008-11-24T22:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T23:06:11.235-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Funny'/><title type='text'>Black Robbers (A True Story)</title><content type='html'>For anyone who didn't see the episode of David Letterman's show where this story was told, read this: (And remember it's a true story...)On a recent weekend in Atlantic City , a woman won a bucketful of quarters at a slot machine.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;She took a break from the slots for dinner with her husband in the hotel dining room. But first she wanted to stash the quarters in her room.'I'll be right back and we'll go to eat' she told her husband and carried the coin-laden bucket to the elevator.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;As she was about to walk into the elevator she noticed two men already aboard. Both were black. One of them was very tall and had an intimidating figure.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The woman froze. Her first thought was: 'These two are going to rob me.'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Her next thought was: 'Don't be a bigot, they look like perfectly nice gentlemen.' But racial stereotypes are powerful, and fear immobilized her. Avoiding eye contact, she turned around stiffly and faced the elevator doors as they closed.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;A second passed, and then another second, and then another. Her fear increased!&lt;br /&gt;The elevator didn't move. Panic consumed her. 'My God' she thought, I'm trapped and about to be robbed! Her heart plummeted..Perspiration poured from every pore.&lt;br /&gt;Then one of the men said, 'Hit the floor.'Instinct told her to do what they told her.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The bucket of quarters flew upwards as she threw out her arms and collapsed on the elevator floor.a shower of coins rained down on her. 'Take my money and spare me', she prayed. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;More seconds passed.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;She heard one of the men say politely, 'Ma'am, if you'll just tell us what floor you're going to, we'll push the button.'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The one who said it had a little trouble getting the words out. He was trying mightily to hold in a belly laugh. The woman lifted her head and looked up at the two men.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;They reached down to help her up. Confused, she struggled to her feet. 'When I told my friend here to hit the floor,' said the average sized one, I meant that he should hit the elevator button for our floor. I didn't mean for you to hit the floor, ma'am.'He spoke genially. He bit his lip. It was obvious he was having a hard time not laughing.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The woman thought: 'My God, what a spectacle I've made of myself.'She was too humiliated to speak. The three of them gathered up the strewn quarters and refilled her bucket. When the elevator arrived at her floor they then insisted on walking her &lt;br /&gt;to her room..&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;She seemed a little unsteady on her feet, and they were afraid she might not make it down the corridor. At her door they bid her a good evening.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;As she slipped into her room she could hear them roaring with laughter &lt;br /&gt;as they walked back to the elevator. The woman brushed herself off. She pulled herself together and went downstairs for dinner with her husband.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The next morning flowers were delivered to her room; a dozen roses.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Attached to EACH rose was a crisp one hundred-dollar bill.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The card said: 'Thanks for the best laugh we've had in years.'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;It was signed: &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Eddie Murphy &amp; Michael Jordan.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-2737068912167590072?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/2737068912167590072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=2737068912167590072' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/2737068912167590072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/2737068912167590072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2008/11/black-robbers-true-story.html' title='Black Robbers (A True Story)'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-7753841910381880337</id><published>2008-11-19T20:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T20:46:51.494-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Inspirational'/><title type='text'>Be An Eagle</title><content type='html'>No one can make you serve customers well. That`s because great service is a choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Years ago, Harvey Mackay, (Business Motivational Speaker &amp; Inspirational Quotes - Harvey Mackay) told a wonderful story about a cab driver that proved this point. He was waiting in line for a ride at the airport. When a cab pulled up, the first thing Harvey noticed was that the taxi was polished to a bright shine. Smartly dressed in a white shirt, black tie, and freshly pressed black slacks, the cab driver jumped out and rounded the car to open the back passenger door for Harvey. He handed him a laminated card and said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;`I`m Wally, your driver. While I`m loading your bags in the trunk I`d like you to read my mission statement.`&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken aback, Harvey read the card. It said: Wally`s Mission Statement:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To get my customers to their destination in the quickest, safest and cheapest way possible in a friendly environment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blew Harvey away. Especially when he noticed that the inside of the cab matched the outside. Spotlessly clean! As he slid behind the wheel, Wally said, `Would you like a cup of coffee? I have a thermos of regular and one of decaf.`&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Harvey said jokingly, `No, I`d prefer a soft drink.`&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wally smiled and said, `No problem. I have a cooler up front with regular and Diet Coke, water and orange juice.`&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost stuttering, Harvey said, `I`ll take a Diet Coke.`&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Handing him his drink, Wally said, `If you`d like something to read, I have The Wall Street Journal, Time, Sports Illustrated and USA Today.`&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they were pulling away, Wally handed him another laminated card. `These are the stations I get and the music they play, if you`d like to listen to the radio.`&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as if that weren`t enough, Wally told Harvey that he had the air conditioning on and asked if the temperature was comfortable for him. Then he advised Harvey of the best route to his destination for that time of day. He also let him know that he`d be happy to chat and tell him about some of the sights or, if Harvey preferred, to leave him with his own thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;`Tell me, Wally,` Harvey asked the driver, `have you always served customers like this?`&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wally smiled into the rearview mirror. `No, not always. In fact, it's only been in the last two years. My first five years driving, I spent most of my time complaining like all the rest of the cabbies do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I heard the personal growth guru, Wayne Dyer, on the radio one day. He had just written a book called You`ll See It When You Believe It. Dyer said that if you get up in the morning expecting to have a bad day, you`ll rarely disappoint yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said, `Stop complaining! Differentiate yourself from your competition. Don`t be a duck. Be an eagle. Ducks quack and complain. Eagles soar above the crowd.``&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;`That hit me right between the eyes,` said Wally. `Dyer was really talking about me. I was always quacking and complaining, so I decided to change my attitude and become an eagle. I looked around at the other cabs and their drivers. The cabs were dirty, the drivers were unfriendly, and the customers were unhappy. So I decided to make some changes. I put in a few at a time. When my customers responded well, I did more.`&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;`I take it that has paid off for you,` Harvey said. `It sure has,` Wally replied. `My first year as an eagle, I doubled my income from the previous year. This year I`ll probably quadruple it. You were lucky to get me today. I don`t sit at cabstands anymore. My customers call me for appointments on my cell phone or leave a message on my answering machine. If I can`t pick them up myself, I get a reliable cabbie friend to do it and I take a piece of the action.`&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wally was phenomenal. He was running a limo service out of a Yellow Cab. Harvey probably told that story to more than fifty cab drivers over the years, and only two took the idea and ran with it. Whenever Harvey went to their cities, he would give them a call. The rest of the drivers quacked like ducks and told him all the reasons they couldn`t do any of what he was suggesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wally the Cab Driver made a different choice , he decided to stop quacking like ducks and start soaring like eagles. How about you? Apply it in your own businesses and homes and see the change around you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where Eagles Dare.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-7753841910381880337?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/7753841910381880337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=7753841910381880337' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/7753841910381880337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/7753841910381880337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2008/11/be-eagle.html' title='Be An Eagle'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-7823393239884362979</id><published>2008-11-17T20:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T20:34:31.099-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Buddha Speaks</title><content type='html'>One day a child goes to his mother and asks her, "Ma, who is that old man sitting on the mountain? " Mother answers, "Don't call him an old man, for he is Lord Buddha, who knows the answer to every question in this universe." "Really, he knows answers to all questions?" asks the child. "Yes my dear" replies the mother. The child goes to the mountain where Buddha is meditating, catches a butterfly in from the garden, and cupping the butterfly gently in his hands, he approaches Buddha. Keeping his hand behind his back, he asks Buddha? " Is the thing in my hand alive or dead?" The child thinks that if Buddha answers that the thing is alive, he will crush the butterfly in his hand and show the dead butterfly proving Buddha wrong. And if Buddha answers that the thing is dead, he will open his gently cupped hand, allowing the butterfly to fly away showing that the butterfly was alive and again proving Buddha wrong. Thus Buddha did not know the answer to all questions. " Is the thing in my hand alive or dead?" repeats the eager child. The Buddha opens his eyes, nods his head and replies, "My dear son, the answer lies in your hands!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-7823393239884362979?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/7823393239884362979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=7823393239884362979' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/7823393239884362979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/7823393239884362979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2008/11/buddha-speaks.html' title='Buddha Speaks'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-7653724527986436578</id><published>2008-10-10T02:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T02:40:10.230-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>How Wall Street Works?</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time in a village, a man appeared and announced to the villagers that he would buy monkeys for $10 each.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The villagers, seeing that there were many monkeys around, went into the forest and started catching them. The man bought thousands at $10 and, as supply started to diminish, the villagers stopped their effort. He further announced that he would now buy monkeys at $20 for each. This renewed the efforts of the villagers and they started catching monkeys again. Soon the supply diminished even further and people started going back to their farms. The offer increased to $25 each, and the supply of monkeys became so small that it was an effort to even find a monkey, let alone catch it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man now announced that he would buy monkeys at $50! However, since he had to go to the city on some business, his assistant would now buy on behalf of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the absence of the man, the assistant told the villagers. "Look at all these monkeys in the big cage that the man has collected. I will sell them to you at $35, and when the man returns from the city, you can sell them to him for $50 each."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The villagers rounded up all their savings and bought all the monkeys. They never saw the man nor his assistant again, only monkeys everywhere!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you have a better understanding of how Wall Street works.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-7653724527986436578?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/7653724527986436578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=7653724527986436578' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/7653724527986436578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/7653724527986436578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2008/10/how-wall-street-works.html' title='How Wall Street Works?'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-3610916075591552076</id><published>2008-09-30T11:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T11:12:18.955-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Marriage Jokes</title><content type='html'>You have two choices in life:&lt;br /&gt;You can stay single and be miserable,&lt;br /&gt;Or get married and wish you were dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At a cocktail party, one woman said to another,&lt;br /&gt;'Aren't you wearing your wedding ring on the&lt;br /&gt;Wrong finger?'&lt;br /&gt;'Yes, I am. I married the wrong man.'  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lady inserted an ad in the classifieds:&lt;br /&gt;'Husband Wanted'.&lt;br /&gt;Next day she received a hundred letters.&lt;br /&gt;They all said the same thing:&lt;br /&gt;'You can have mine.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When a woman steals your husband,&lt;br /&gt;There is no better revenge than to let her keep him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman is incomplete until she is married.&lt;br /&gt;Then she is finished. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A young son asked,&lt;br /&gt;'Is it true Dad, that in some parts of Africa&lt;br /&gt;A man doesn't know his wife until he marries her?'  &lt;br /&gt;Dad replied, 'That happens in every country, son.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was a woman, who said,&lt;br /&gt;'I never knew what real happiness was until I got married,&lt;br /&gt;And by then, it was too late.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marriage is the triumph of imagination over intelligence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want your spouse to listen and&lt;br /&gt;Pay strict attention to every word you say...&lt;br /&gt;Talk in your sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just think, if it weren't for marriage, men would go through life thinking they had no faults at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-3610916075591552076?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/3610916075591552076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=3610916075591552076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/3610916075591552076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/3610916075591552076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2008/09/marriage-jokes.html' title='Marriage Jokes'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-6410769859702232888</id><published>2008-09-19T00:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T00:10:40.451-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Fishing in Canada</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SNNP_2DYmiI/AAAAAAAAAHg/bqW9FvLkvPA/s1600-h/Suicide.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; 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	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;} .MsoChpDefault 	{mso-style-type:export-only; 	mso-default-props:yes; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt; 	mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;} @page Section1 	{size:8.5in 11.0in; 	margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-priority:99; 	mso-style-qformat:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:11.0pt; 	font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; 	mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; 	mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;A man called home to his wife and said, "Honey I have been asked to Go fishing up in&gt;Canada with my boss &amp;amp; several of his friends. We'll be gone for a week. This is a good opportunity for me to get that promotion I've been wanting so could you please pack enough clothes for a week and set out my rod and fishing box?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're leaving from the office &amp;amp; I will swing by the house to pick my things up." "Oh! Please pack my new blue silk pajamas."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife thinks this sounds a bit fishy but being the good wife she is, Did exactly what her husband asked.&lt;br /&gt;The following weekend he came home a little tired but otherwise looking good. The wife welcomed him home and asked if he caught many fish?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said, "Yes! Lots of Salmon, some Bluegill, and a few Swordfish. But why didn't you pack my new blue silk pajamas like I Asked you to do?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife replied,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I did... THEY'RE IN UR FISHING BOX............. "&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-6410769859702232888?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/6410769859702232888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=6410769859702232888' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/6410769859702232888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/6410769859702232888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2008/09/fishing-in-canada.html' title='Fishing in Canada'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SNNP_2DYmiI/AAAAAAAAAHg/bqW9FvLkvPA/s72-c/Suicide.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7263232193835294931.post-249742648828044594</id><published>2008-09-19T00:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T00:01:10.524-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Polish Joke</title><content type='html'>A Polish man moved to the USA and married an American girl. Although his English  was far from perfect, they got along very well until one day he rushed into a  lawyer's office and asked him if he could arrange a divorce for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The  lawyer said that getting a divorce would depend on the circumstances, and asked  him the following questions:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L: Have you any grounds?&lt;br /&gt;P: Yes, an acre and  half and nice little home.&lt;br /&gt;L: No, I mean what is the foundation of this  case?&lt;br /&gt;P: It made of concrete.&lt;br /&gt;L: I don't think you understand. Do either  of you have a real grudge?&lt;br /&gt;P: No, we have carport, and not need one.&lt;br /&gt;L: I  mean. What are your relations like?&lt;br /&gt;P: All my relations still in Poland  .&lt;br /&gt;L: Is there any infidelity in your marriage?&lt;br /&gt;P: We have hi-fidelity  stereo and good DVD player.&lt;br /&gt;L: Does your wife beat you up?&lt;br /&gt;P: No, I always  up before her.&lt;br /&gt;L: Is your wife a nagger?&lt;br /&gt;P: No, she white.&lt;br /&gt;L: Why do  you want this divorce?&lt;br /&gt;P: She going to kill me.&lt;br /&gt;L: What makes you think  that?&lt;br /&gt;P: I got proof.&lt;br /&gt;L: What kind of proof?&lt;br /&gt;P: She going to poison me.  She buy a bottle at drugstore and put on shelf in bathroom. I can read, and it  say: 'Polish Remover'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-249742648828044594?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/249742648828044594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=249742648828044594' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/249742648828044594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/249742648828044594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2008/09/polish-joke.html' title='Polish Joke'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-6754440499281383085</id><published>2008-09-15T21:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T21:10:21.945-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Inspirational'/><title type='text'>The Power of Positive Talk</title><content type='html'>I remember my dad teaching me the power of language at a very young age. Not only did my dad understand that specific words affect our mental pictures, but he understood words are a powerful programming factor in lifelong success.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One particularly interesting event occurred when I was eight. As a kid, I was always climbing trees, poles, and literally hanging around upside down from the rafters of our lake house. So, it came to no surprise for my dad to find me at the top of a 30-foot tree swinging back and forth. My little eight-year-old brain didn't realize the tree could break or I could get hurt. I just thought it was fun to be up so high.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My older cousin, Tammy, was also in the same tree. She was hanging on the first big limb, about ten feet below me. Tammy's mother also noticed us at the exact time my dad did. About that time a huge gust of wind came over the tree. I could hear the leaves start to rattle and the tree begin to sway. I remember my dad's voice over the wind yell, "Bart, Hold on tightly." So I did. The next thing I know, I heard Tammy screaming at the top of her lungs, laying flat on the ground. She had fallen out of the tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I scampered down the tree to safety. My dad later told me why she fell and I did not. Apparently, when Tammy's mother felt the gust of wind, she yelled out, "Tammy, don't fall!" And Tammy did… fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad then explained to me that the mind has a very difficult time processing a negative image. In fact, people who rely on internal pictures cannot see a negative at all. In order for Tammy to process the command of not falling, her nine-year-old brain had to first imagine falling, then try to tell the brain not to do what it just imagined. Whereas, my eight-year-old brain instantly had an internal image of me hanging on tightly.&lt;br /&gt;This concept is especially useful when you are attempting to break a habit or set a goal. You can't visualize not doing something. The only way to properly visualize not doing something is to actually find a word for what you want to do and visualize that. For example, when I was thirteen years old, I played for my junior high school football team. I tried so hard to be good, but I just couldn't get it together at that age. I remember hearing the words run through my head as I was running out for a pass, "Don't drop it!" Naturally, I dropped the ball.&lt;br /&gt;My coaches were not skilled enough to teach us proper "self-talk." They just thought some kids could catch and others couldn't. I'll never make it pro, but I'm now a pretty good Sunday afternoon football player, because all my internal dialogue is positive and encourages me to win. I wish my dad had coached me playing football instead of just climbing trees. I might have had a longer football career.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a very easy demonstration to teach your kids and your friends the power of a toxic vocabulary. Ask them to hold a pen or pencil. Hand it to them. Now, follow my instructions carefully. Say to them, "Okay, try to drop the pencil." Observe what they do.&lt;br /&gt;Most people release their hands and watch the pencil hit the floor. You respond, "You weren't paying attention. I said TRY to drop the pencil. Now please do it again." Most people then pick up the pencil and pretend to be in excruciating pain while their hand tries but fails to drop the pencil.&lt;br /&gt;The point is made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you tell your brain you will "give it a try," you are actually telling your brain to fail. I have a "no try" rule in my house and with everyone I interact with. Either people will do it or they won't. Either they will be at the party or they won't. I'm brutal when people attempt to lie to me by using the word try. Do they think I don't know they are really telegraphing to the world they have no intention of doing it but they want me to give them brownie points for pretended effort? You will never hear the words "I'll try" come out of my mouth unless I'm teaching this concept in a seminar.&lt;br /&gt;If you "try" and do something, your unconscious mind has permission not to succeed. If I truly can't make a decision I will tell the truth. "Sorry John. I'm not sure if I will be at your party or not. I've got an outstanding commitment. If that falls through, I will be here. Otherwise, I will not. Thanks for the invite."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People respect honesty. So remove the word "try" from your vocabulary.&lt;br /&gt;My dad also told me that psychologists claim it takes seventeen positive statements to offset one negative statement. I have no idea if it is true, but the logic holds true. It might take up to seventeen compliments to offset the emotional damage of one harsh criticism.&lt;br /&gt;These are concepts that are especially useful when raising children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ask yourself how many compliments you give yourself daily versus how many criticisms. Heck, I know you are talking to yourself all day long. We all have internal voices that give us direction.&lt;br /&gt;So, are you giving yourself the 17:1 ratio or are you shortchanging yourself with toxic self-talk like, " I'm fat. Nobody will like me. I'll try this diet. I'm not good enough. I'm so stupid. I'm broke, etc. etc."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If our parents can set a lifetime of programming with one wrong statement, imagine the kind of programming you are doing on a daily basis with your own internal dialogue. Here is a list of Toxic Vocabulary words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Notice when you or other people use them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ø But: Negates any words that are stated before it.&lt;br /&gt;Ø Try: Presupposes failure.&lt;br /&gt;Ø If: Presupposes that you may not.&lt;br /&gt;Ø Might: It does nothing definite. It leaves options for your listener.&lt;br /&gt;Ø Would Have: Past tense that draws attention to things that didn't actually happen.&lt;br /&gt;Ø Should Have: Past tense that draws attention to things that didn't actually happen (and implies guilt.)&lt;br /&gt;Ø Could Have: Past tense that draws attention to things that didn't actually happen but the person tries to take credit as if it did happen.&lt;br /&gt;Ø Can't/Don't: These words force the listener to focus on exactly the opposite of what you want. This is a classic mistake that parents and coaches make without knowing the damage of this linguistic error.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Examples&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Toxic phrase&lt;/span&gt;: "Don't drop the ball!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Likely result&lt;/span&gt;: Drops the ball&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Better language&lt;/span&gt;: "Catch the ball!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Toxic phrase&lt;/span&gt;: "You shouldn't watch so much television."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Likely result&lt;/span&gt;: Watches more television.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Better language&lt;/span&gt;: "I read too much television makes people stupid. You might find yourself turning that TV off and picking up one of those books more often!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Exercise&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;Take a moment to write down all the phrases you use on a daily basis or any Toxic self-talk that you have noticed yourself using. Write these phrases down so you will begin to catch yourself as they occur and change them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-6754440499281383085?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/6754440499281383085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=6754440499281383085' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/6754440499281383085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/6754440499281383085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2008/09/power-of-positive-talk.html' title='The Power of Positive Talk'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-7532749856132383184</id><published>2008-09-14T20:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T20:48:14.302-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Facts'/><title type='text'>Richest guy by 2009 - ORKUT</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SM3a84OL6iI/AAAAAAAAAHA/CNdj79gIOx4/s1600-h/ATT00225.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SM3a84OL6iI/AAAAAAAAAHA/CNdj79gIOx4/s200/ATT00225.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246089880375388706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A guy lost his girlfriend in a train accident.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but the gal's name nowhere appeared in the dead list. This guy grew up n became IT technical architect in his late 20?s, achievement in itself!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He hired developers from the whole globe and plan to make a software where he could search for his gf through the web..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things went as planned...and he found her, after losing millions of dollars and 3 long years!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was time to shut down the search operation, when the CEO of Google had a&lt;br /&gt;word with this guy n took over this application,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This Software made a whopping 1 billion dollars profit in its first year,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;which we today know as &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ORKUT&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy's name is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ORKUT BUYUKKOTEN&lt;/span&gt; Yes its named after him only. Today he is paid a hefty sum by Google for the things we do like scrapping.He is expected to b the richest person by 2009.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ORKUT BUYUKKOTEN&lt;/span&gt; today has 13 assistants to monitor his scrapbook &amp;amp; 8 to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;monitor his friends-list. He gets around 20,000 friend-requests a day &amp;amp; about 85,000 scraps!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Some other Cool Facts about this guy:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* He gets $12 from Google when every person registers to this website.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* He also gets $10 when you add somebody as a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* He gets $8 when your friend's friend adds you as a friend &amp;amp; gets $6 if&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anybody adds you as friend in the resulting chain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* He gets $5 when you scrap somebody &amp;amp; $4 when somebody scraps you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* He also gets $200 for each photograph you upload on Orkut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* He gets $2.5 when you add your friend in the crush-list or in the hot-list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* He gets $2 when you become somebody's fan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* He gets $1.5 when somebody else becomes your fan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* He even gets $1 every time you logout of Orkut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* He gets $0.5 every time you just change your profile-photograph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* He also gets $0.5 every time you read your friend's scrap-book &amp;amp; $0.5 every time you view your friend's friend-list.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-7532749856132383184?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/7532749856132383184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=7532749856132383184' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/7532749856132383184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/7532749856132383184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2008/09/richest-guy-by-2009-orkut.html' title='Richest guy by 2009 - ORKUT'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IvEEGsKQ_NI/SM3a84OL6iI/AAAAAAAAAHA/CNdj79gIOx4/s72-c/ATT00225.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7263232193835294931.post-218428094038103452</id><published>2008-09-14T07:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T07:21:30.609-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Inspirational'/><title type='text'>Sujata Burla's Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;Sujata Burla's life took an ugly turn on June 9, 2001. On a pilgrimage to Shirdi, where the Sai Baba temple in Maharashtra is located, from Hyderabad, she met with an accident. &lt;p&gt;Four months later, the doctors and physiotherapists treating her told her she could not walk for the rest of her life. The accident had turned her into a paraplegic. It meant Sujata was immobile below the shoulders. She was just 21. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Soon people who she thought were her friends abandoned her and Sujata was left alone. Compounding her tragedy was her father's death in March 2004. Not one to be easily cowed down by her circumstances, she started learning about the stock markets that year. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Now she trades like a pro and earns anywhere between Rs 200,000 and Rs 250,000 every month. On a day like Wednesday, September 19, 2007, when the Nifty was up 186 points, Sujata made a cool Rs 600,000 in a single day. She has still not sold her position. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"I expect the Nifty to touch 4800 in the next two, three trading days. I will sell my position then," Sujata told this correspondent in a telephone conversation from her home in Hyderabad.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Sujata moves around in a wheelchair and does not regret this fact. Financial independence is what she strove for and that is exactly what she has got through sheer determination and discipline.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;How do you cope with such a trauma?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Before, I could not even write or type. Now I have got used to it. I can easily type and trade on my computer and laptop.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;In the first four months after my accident I did not even know I would never be able to walk again. I went into a depression feeling that this was the end of life for me.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Does your condition make you dependant on others?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;img src="" alt="" align="right" border="0" /&gt;I am the kind of person who doesn't like to depend on anybody -- whether financially, physically or mentally. So, it was very tough for me to physically depend on somebody. I soon realised that financial independence could get me much more freedom in life. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;So I started thinking how I could earn money. I worked with my sister, who is a fashion designer, and learned a bit about it. I soon started a textile workshop where I employed 10 people. However, the workers took undue advantage of my physical disability leading to losses. Since I wanted to be independent I started moving towards stock market trading. The textile workshop business is now my secondary business. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;How did you get into the stock markets?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I realised that if at all I have to succeed in life I would have to do something for which I don't have to depend on anybody. Through a friend of mine I came to know about the stock markets in 2004. It took me almost a year to understand the various nuances of the stock market and it was in 2005 that I actually started trading. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;What was your first trading/investment experience like?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;My first investment was in blue chip companies like Reliance Industries &lt;span style="color: rgb(117, 117, 119);"&gt;[&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="text-decoration: none;" href="http://money.rediff.com/money/jsp/quote_process.jsp?query=reliance+industries+ltd" target="_blank"&gt; &lt;span style=""&gt;Get Quote&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(117, 117, 119);"&gt;]&lt;/span&gt;, Hero Honda, ACC and IDBI. However, the Rs 100,000 that I invested did not earn me any returns. It was my first investment and I did not know when to sell or the right time to sell my stocks. That learning experience helped me to hone my skills in the stock markets. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;How much do you make from trading in stocks now?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;My turnover for a month is over Rs 3 crore. But my actual investment is only Rs 15 lakhs. I make anywhere between 10 to 15 per cent per of this investment per month. It is like I earn 20 to 30 per cent sometimes and lose 10 per cent at other times. This takes my average monthly return to 10 to 15 per cent every month of my total investment of Rs 15 lakhs. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Could you share your success mantras for our readers?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Read all the advice that you get from various business television channels, newspapers, friends who understand the stock markets but be extremely cautious and disciplined when you act on this advice. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Never extend your trading bets beyond your means. I speak to my friends; get investment and trading ideas from my brokerages (she is registered for online trading with Reliance Money, Indiabulls &lt;span style="color: rgb(117, 117, 119);"&gt;[&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="text-decoration: none;" href="http://money.rediff.com/money/jsp/quote_process.jsp?query=indiabulls+financial+services+ltd" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Get Quote&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(117, 117, 119);"&gt;]&lt;/span&gt; and Kotak Securities). &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;How would you identify yourself as a stock market player?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I am a short-term trader; I am surely not a long-term investor.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you trade intra-day?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Well, if my bets appreciate considerably then I take home my profits on the same day. Otherwise, I wait for my investments to bear at least 7 to 8 per cent returns before I actually sell it.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Intraday" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Intra-day&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/a&gt; trading, though, is very risky as most traders tend to burn their fingers trying to time the market. And I have lost quite a bit of money trading intra-day in the cash market, believe me. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;How much have you deposited with all these brokerage companies?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;As I told you earlier, my total deposit with all the three brokers is Rs 15 lakhs. Using this amount I buy &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Call_option" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Call Options&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/a&gt; within my overall limits. There is no concept of margin money in options. Whatever money I have earned till now is only through Option trading. You can do risk-less trading in Options using a small amount. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;As a safe strategy I never write a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Put_option" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Put Option&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. Put Options are very risky. That way I am a very safe trader. In Puts I can even make 50 per cent a month on my investments; but then I can lose the same amount too. My principle is if I make money I make it; I shouldn't lose money at all. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I usually write a Call Option on the Nifty. I am always long (&lt;em&gt;buying first and then selling at a higher price to make profit&lt;/em&gt;) on the markets and whenever the market is too &lt;a href="http://en.mimi.hu/stockmarket/overbought.html" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;u&gt;overbought&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I wait for the markets to cool down.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;The last two days turned out to be very good for the stock markets. How much did you make in these two days?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Actually, it is celebration time for me. I made 80 per cent returns today (&lt;em&gt;September 19, the Nifty was up 186 points or 4.09 per cent&lt;/em&gt;). Most of the Nifty Calls went up by 80 per cent today. However, I did not invest the entire Rs 15 lakhs because I am sitting on a bit of cash as the markets have run up too fast in the recent past. I invested only 50 per cent of Rs 15 lakhs on which I made an 80 per cent return ( &lt;em&gt;Editor's note: That's a cool Rs 600,000; don't rub your eyes in disbelief; you read it right!&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;However, there are times when I lose a big amount of money in trading. Such gains happen only once in a lifetime. The losses that I make during the year sort of offsets such gains. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But remember that these things don't happen every other day. I have still not booked my profits. I am still holding on my positions. I plan to sell them after a day or two because I feel that the markets can still go up -- at least for the next two, three days -- based on the strong momentum. I am expecting the Nifty to go up to 4800 at least. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Actually, the target given by one of my brokerage houses is 4900 but I am going to book profits at 4800 levels. Too much greed is also not good, is it?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Moreover, it is the festive season and Diwali is just round the corner. Normally, the markets go up during Diwali. There will be some profit booking (&lt;em&gt;a situation when a trader sells her/his stocks at a profit&lt;/em&gt; ) tomorrow and the day after that but the general mood is likely to remain bullish till Diwali. I don't expect a market crash or correction till Diwali.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you stay with your family?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I stay with my mother and cousin Priya. My father passed away on March 20, 2004. I have a sister and two brothers but they are all married and lead separate lives.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you have friends?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Before the accident I had many friends but they all ran away after my accident. They were all false friends. People like this go where there is money, success and happiness. People like these don't chase failures. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;After my accident I have a different set of friends. I have a few friends now but they are my true friends. They have been with me through my bad times. They really care for me. I can count Pradeep and Ashish amongst my true friends now. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-218428094038103452?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/218428094038103452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=218428094038103452' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/218428094038103452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/218428094038103452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2008/09/sujata-burlas-story.html' title='Sujata Burla&apos;s Story'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-4031686707737319467</id><published>2008-09-13T12:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T12:22:15.240-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Inspirational'/><title type='text'>7 secrets of success</title><content type='html'>I found the answers in my room:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roof Said: Aim High&lt;br /&gt;Fan Said: Be Cool&lt;br /&gt;Clock Said: Every minute is precious&lt;br /&gt;Mirror Said: Reflect before you act&lt;br /&gt;Window Said: See the world&lt;br /&gt;Calendar Said: Be up-to-date&lt;br /&gt;Door Said: Push hard to achieve your goals&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-4031686707737319467?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/4031686707737319467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=4031686707737319467' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/4031686707737319467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/4031686707737319467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2008/09/7-secrets-of-success.html' title='7 secrets of success'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-4613154318049182915</id><published>2008-09-08T02:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T02:47:58.509-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Inspirational'/><title type='text'>Why GOD allows pain?</title><content type='html'>This is one of the best explanations of why God allows pain and suffering....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man went to a barbershop to have his hair cut and his beard trimmed.As the barber began to work, they began to have a good conversation. They talked about so many things and various subjects. When they eventually touched on the subject of God, the barber said:&lt;br /&gt;"I don't believe that God exists."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why do you say that?" asked the customer. "Well, you just have to go out in the street to realize that God doesn't exist. Tell me, if God exists, would there be so many sick people? Would there be abandoned children? If God existed, there would be neither suffering nor pain. I can't imagine a loving God who would allow all of these things."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The customer thought for a moment, but didn't respond because he didn't want to start an argument. The barber finished his job and the customer left the shop. Just after he left the barbershop, he saw a man in the street with long, stringy, dirty hair and an untrimmed beard. He looked dirty and unkempt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The customer turned back and entered the barber shop again and he said to the barber:&lt;br /&gt;"You know what? Barbers do not exist." "How can you say that?" asked the surprised barber. "I am here, and I am a barber. And I just worked on you!" "No!" the customer exclaimed. "Barbers don't exist because if they did, there would be no people with dirty long hair and untrimmed beards, like that poor man outside."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ah, but barbers DO exist! Tell me how can I help the poor man outside, if he does not come to me?" "Exactly!" affirmed the customer, "that's the point!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-4613154318049182915?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/4613154318049182915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=4613154318049182915' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/4613154318049182915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/4613154318049182915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2008/09/why-god-allows-pain.html' title='Why GOD allows pain?'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-2718345667200102433</id><published>2008-09-08T02:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T02:35:08.994-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Dont copy if you cant paste!!</title><content type='html'>A popular Motivational speaker was entertaining his audience. He said:  "The best years of my life were spent in the arms of a woman who wasn't my wife!"&lt;br /&gt;The audience was in silence and shock.&lt;br /&gt;The speaker added:  "And that woman was my mother!"&lt;br /&gt;Laughter and applause continued!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week later, a top manager trained by the motivational speaker tried to crack this very effective joke at home.&lt;br /&gt;He was a bit foggy after a drink.&lt;br /&gt;He said loudly, "The greatest years of my life were spent in the arms of a woman who was not my wife!"&lt;br /&gt;The wife went wan with shock and rage.&lt;br /&gt;Standing there for 20 seconds trying to recall the second half of the joke, the manager finally blurted out "... and I can't remember who she was!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-2718345667200102433?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/2718345667200102433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=2718345667200102433' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/2718345667200102433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/2718345667200102433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2008/09/dont-copy-if-you-cant-paste.html' title='Dont copy if you cant paste!!'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-3787216208809859204</id><published>2008-09-08T02:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T02:33:08.990-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Why men don't write advice columns</title><content type='html'>Dear Walter:&lt;br /&gt;I hope you can help me here. The other day I set off for work leaving my husband in the house watching the TV as usual. I hadn't gone more than a mile down the road when my engine conked out and the car shuddered to a halt.   I walked back home to get my husband's help. When I got home I couldn't believe my eyes. He was in the bedroom with a neighbor lady .&lt;br /&gt;I am 32, my husband is 34 and we have been married for twelve years. When I confronted him, he broke down and admitted that he'd been having an affair for the past six months.&lt;br /&gt;I told him to stop or I would leave him. He was let go from his job six months ago and he says he has been feeling increasingly depressed and worthless. I love him very much, but ever since I gave him the ultimatum he has become increasingly distant. I don't feel I can get through to him anymore.&lt;br /&gt;Can you please help?&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;Mrs... Sheila Usk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Sheila:&lt;br /&gt;A car stalling after being driven a short distance can be caused by a variety of faults with the engine. Start by checking that there is no debris in the fuel line. If it is clear, check the jubilee clips holding the vacuum pipes onto the inlet manifold. If none of these approaches solves the problem, it could be that the fuel pump itself is faulty, causing low delivery pressure to the carburetor float chamber.&lt;br /&gt;I hope this helps.&lt;br /&gt;Walter&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-3787216208809859204?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/3787216208809859204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=3787216208809859204' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/3787216208809859204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/3787216208809859204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2008/09/why-men-dont-write-advice-columns.html' title='Why men don&apos;t write advice columns'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-7380891900675775192</id><published>2008-09-06T13:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T13:39:31.259-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Story'/><title type='text'>An amazing Love Story</title><content type='html'>He met her on a party. She was so outstanding, many guys chasing after her, while he so normal, nobody paid attention to him. At the end of the party, he invited her to have coffee with him, she was surprised, but due to being polite, she promised. They sat in a nice coffee shop, he was too nervous to say anything, she felt uncomfortable, she thought, please,let me go home....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly he asked the waiter. 'would you please give me some salt? I'd like to put it in my coffee.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everybody stared at him, so strange! His face turned red, but still, he put the salt in his coffee and drank it. She asked him curiously; why you have this hobby? He replied: 'when I was a little boy, I was living near the sea, I like playing in the sea, I could feel the taste of the sea, just like the taste of the salty coffee. Now every time I have the salty coffee, I always think of my childhood, think of my hometown, I miss my hometown so much, I miss my parents who are still living there'. While saying that tears filled his eyes. She was deeply touched.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's his true feeling, from the bottom of his heart. A man who can tell out his homesickness, he must be a man who loves home, cares about home,&lt;br /&gt;has responsibility of home. Then she also started to speak, spoke about her faraway hometown, her childhood, her family. That was a really nice&lt;br /&gt;talk, also a beautiful beginning of their story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They continued to date. She found that actually he was a man who meets her demands; he had tolerance, was kind hearted, warm, careful. He was such a good person but she almost missed him! Thanks to his salty coffee!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the story was just like every beautiful love story , the princess married to the prince, then they were living the happy life... And, every time she made coffee for him, she put some salt in the coffee e, as she knew that's the way he liked it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 40 years, he passed away, left her a letter which said: 'My dearest,please forgive me, forgive my whole life lie. This was the only lie I said&lt;br /&gt;to you---the salty coffee. Remember the first time we dated? I was so nervous at that time, actually I wanted some sugar, but I said salt It was hard for me to change so I just went ahead.I never thought that could be the start of our communication! I tried to tell you the truth many times in my life, but I was too afraid to do that, as I have promised not to lie to you for anything..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm dying, I afraid of nothing so I tell you the truth: I don't like the salty coffee, what a strange bad taste.. But I have had the salty coffee for my whole life! Since I knew you, I never feel sorry for anything I do for you. Having you with me is my biggest happiness for my whole life. If I can live for the second time, still want to know you and have you for my whole life,even though I have to drink the salty coffee again'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her tears made the letter totally wet.Someday, someone asked her: what's the taste of salty coffee?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's sweet. She replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is not 2 forget but 2 forgive, not 2 see but 2 understand, not 2 hear but 2 listen, not 2 let go but 2 HOLD ON !!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't ever leave the one you love for the one you like, because the one you like will leave you for the one they love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Find a guy, who calls you beautiful instead of hot.&lt;br /&gt;Who calls you back when you hang up on him.&lt;br /&gt;Who will stay awake just to watch you sleep.&lt;br /&gt;Wait for the guy who kisses your forehead.&lt;br /&gt;Who holds your hand in front of his friends..&lt;br /&gt;Wait for the one who is constantly reminding you of how much he&lt;br /&gt;cares about you and how lucky he is to have you.&lt;br /&gt;Wait for the one who turns to his friends and says, '...that's her.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-7380891900675775192?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/7380891900675775192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=7380891900675775192' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/7380891900675775192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/7380891900675775192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2008/09/amazing-love-story.html' title='An amazing Love Story'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-2083724308174221790</id><published>2008-09-05T02:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T02:08:17.711-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Facts'/><title type='text'>Interesting Facts About Bangalore</title><content type='html'>1. Bangalore has the impeccable record of highest growth within a span of 20 Years&lt;br /&gt;2. Bangalore has highest number of pubs in Asia.&lt;br /&gt;3. Bangalore has highest number of ©igarette $mokers in India.&lt;br /&gt;4. Bangalore has the highest number of software companies in India-212, followed by Hyderabad - 108, Pune - 97. Hence called the Silicon Valley of India&lt;br /&gt;5. Bangalore has 21 engineering colleges, which is highest in the world in a given city. Bangalore University has 57 Engineering colleges affiliated to it,&lt;br /&gt;which is highest in the world.&lt;br /&gt;6. Bangalore is the only city in the world to have commercial and defense Airport operating from the same strip.&lt;br /&gt;7. Bangalore has highest number of public sectors and government Organizations&lt;br /&gt;in India.&lt;br /&gt;8. Bangalore university has highest number of students going abroad for higher studies taking the first place from IIT-Kanpur.&lt;br /&gt;9. Bangalore has only 48% of local population (i.e.Kannadigas) .Hence a true cosmopolitan with around 25% Tamilians, 14% Telugites, 10% Keralites, 8%&lt;br /&gt;Europeans, and 6% a mixture of all races.&lt;br /&gt;10. Bangalore police has the reputation of being second best in India after Delhi.&lt;br /&gt;11. Bangalore has the highest density of traffic in India.&lt;br /&gt;12. Bangalore has the highest number of 2-wheelers in the world.&lt;br /&gt;13. Bangalore is considered the fashion capital of east comparable to Paris.&lt;br /&gt;15. Bangalore has produced the maximum international sportsmen in India for all sports ahead of even Mumbai &amp;amp; Delhi.&lt;br /&gt;16. Bangalore has produced the maximum number of scientists considered for Nobel Prize nominations.&lt;br /&gt;17. Bangalore has produced the highest number of professionals in USA almost 60% of the Indian population abroad is from Bangalore (except Gulf).&lt;br /&gt;18. Bangalore is famous for THREE: Software Professionals, Girls and Dogs.&lt;br /&gt;19. Bangalore is famous for its dog bites, an average of 12 people are bitten by stray dogs per MINUTE somewhere in Bangalore!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-2083724308174221790?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/2083724308174221790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=2083724308174221790' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/2083724308174221790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/2083724308174221790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2008/09/interesting-facts-about-bangalore.html' title='Interesting Facts About Bangalore'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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-7263232193835294931.post-5989749587116074001</id><published>2008-09-05T01:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T02:02:21.377-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jokes'/><title type='text'>Singh is King</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoPlainText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Doctor to sardar patient&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; : Ab aapki tabiyat kaisi hai.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;Sardar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt; : Doctor saheb Pehle se jyada kharab ho gayi hai.    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoPlainText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Doctor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; : dawai khali thi kya?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoPlainText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Sardar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; : Nai doctor saheb. dawai ki shishi to bhari hui thi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoPlainText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Doctor &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;: Are Sardar ji mere kehne ka matlab hai ki, dawai le li thi kya.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoPlainText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Sardar &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;: Ji, aapne dawai de di thi aur maine le lit hi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoPlainText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Doctor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;: Abe, dawai pili thi kya?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoPlainText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Sardar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; : Oho, nai doctor saheb dawai to lal thi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoPlainText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Doctor &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;: Abe GADHE, Dawai ko piliya tha kya?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoPlainText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Sardar &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;: Nai. Doctor, Piliya to mujhe tha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoPlainText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Doctor( in frustration)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; :Abe teri to, Dawai ko muh lagakar Pet me dala tha k nai?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoPlainText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Sardar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; : Nai doctor saheb.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoPlainText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Doctor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; : Kyon?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoPlainText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Sardar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; : Kyonki dhakkan band tha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoPlainText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Doctor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; : Teri sale, to Khola kyon nai.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoPlainText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Sardar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; : Saheb, aapne hi to kaha tha ki, shishi ka dhakkan band rakhna.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoPlainText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Doctor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; : Tera ilaz main nai kar sakta.!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoPlainText"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Sardar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; : Accha Doctor saheb ye to bata do ki main thik kaise hounga Doctor : Abe teri... @#$! ^&amp;amp;*!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7263232193835294931-5989749587116074001?l=favoritemails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/feeds/5989749587116074001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7263232193835294931&amp;postID=5989749587116074001' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/5989749587116074001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7263232193835294931/posts/default/5989749587116074001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://favoritemails.blogspot.com/2008/09/singh-is-king.html' title='Singh is King'/><author><name>Shefali Gaur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00632889850153488514</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></feed>
