Ken Lee

A very nice song, "without you" presented by Mariah Carey...

No I cant forget this evening
Or your face as you were leaving
But I guess thats just the way
The story goes
You always smile but in your eyes
Your sorrow shows
Yes it shows
No I cant forget tomorrow
When I think of all my sorrow
When I had you there
But then I let you go
And now its only fair
That I should let you know
What you should know

I cant live
If living is without you
I cant live
I cant give anymore
I cant live
If living is without you
I cant give
I cant give anymore

Well I cant forget this evening
Or your face as you were leaving
But I guess thats just the way
The story goes
You always smile but in your eyes
Your sorrow shows
Yes it shows

I cant live
If living is without you
I cant live
I cant give any more
I cant live
If living is without you
I cant give
I cant give anymore

But how about this 1...







ZHADAO !!!

hahaha =p,

[fly]~happy chinese new year~[/fly]

Bye Bye E-Control

After 12 weeks of industrial training program in E-Control, finally, I am proud to announce that, I've accomplished my training task, and go back to enjoy my CNY holiday now, yeah~~~!!

No matter good or bad, happy or angry, it was my precious experience in my life, I appreciate everyone who give me a chance to learn, I will miss you all.

Finally, I would like to dedicate this song to every one in E-Control...let's enjoy it~~

霍元甲 VS 叶问

大概是去年的这个时候， 观赏了李连杰主演的《霍元甲》；　昨天，　我观赏了同样由一名非常棒的武打明星甄子丹主演的《叶问》。　两部题材相似的电影，　同样的我，　心境却大大不同。　看《霍元甲》的时候，　和一班朋友一起在电影院，　那个时候正值农历新年，　整个电影院热闹非常，　我的心情也很开朗。　昨天，　和女朋友一起看，　电影院处于半空半满状态，　冷气很冷，　但很温馨。

霍元甲和叶问，　前者乃中国北方人，　生于清末民初年代；　后者乃中国南方人，　生于抗日战争时代。他们各自都是当地的武术宗师，　同样生于战乱的年代，　同样欲以武术贯彻中国儒家思想，　以武会友，　以德服人。。。。（！＠＃＄实在是狗屁不通！别说在那个八国联军和日本仔侵略的年代，　即使现在，　巴勒斯坦随便对以色列放几个火箭炮，　以色列就要出动上百架轰炸机，　不眠不休地连续轰炸加沙地带几天几夜！如果中国人还看不清这是一个什么样的世界，　就继续当东亚病夫吧！自己躲在一角自ｈｉｇｈ算了！！）。　扯远了。。。霍元甲在擂台上打日本人，　叶问也在擂台上打日本人。　霍元甲死在擂台上，　叶问则几乎死在擂台上。。。

主演霍元甲的李连杰，　不知道是多少届中国武术冠军，　演技也很厉害，　说的是一口字正腔圆的普通话；　主演叶问的甄子丹，　是道道地地的广东人，　当然也讲广东话。　在电影里面，　霍元甲打遍天下无敌手，　打到最后才领悟到以武会友的“真理”。 叶问则比较低调（可能是因为他老婆比较美， 哈哈。。）。 一心想要低调做人， 想要埋没自己武艺， 却在最后把对手们痛下毒手。 不知道在叶问在擂台上杀人的时候， 他还是不是大家所敬仰的“叶师傅”。　这两位武术宗师虽然生长在不同的年代，　但生命中的共同点还是蛮多的，　却在人生的最后阶段走向不同的分叉路， 命运和结局当然也大不相同。　前者显得凄凉，是一个颇具悲剧色彩的人物；　后者则比较幸运，　只因为在擂台上的那一粒子弹没有致命！　

看《霍元甲》的时候， 心情是很high的，朋友们都一样， 就好像周杰伦在“霍！霍！霍！霍！霍！霍！霍！霍！！！” 那样； 《叶问》就烂得多了， 根本就没有什么像样的主题曲来衬托这个伟大的咏春拳一代宗师。 但是， 牵着女朋友的手来看这个跟当时的情调那么不搭的电影， 感觉虽然不high， 却觉得很幸福， 很温馨。。。

12月31日

现在是12月31日早上10点54分。 今天不用上班， 所以我在一个小时前才起床。 刚用过了早餐， 10年如一日的在阅读利物浦足球队的新闻， 然后心血来潮就来这里写写说说。

到了2008年的最后一天了。 这一年对我而言绝对值得回味， 因为有太多太多的事情让我学习， 成长和感恩。 对于2008年曾经帮助过我的人， 让我开心的人， 让我气愤和伤心的人， 关心我的人， 爱我的人和不喜欢我的人， 你们都是让我成长的人， 感谢你们！ 没有你们， 我不知道现在的我会是什么模样； 但是因为你们，让我的2008年是那么多姿多彩， 波澜壮阔！

到了2009年， 我要更加努力， 更加成熟， 对自己要求更高，特别是在学业方面。 明年的我， 一定要胜过今年的我！ 已经7天了， 还有点不能适应自己已经不是单身了。 我要好好的爱她， 疼她， 珍惜她和保护她， 我还要慢慢的把她介绍给我的家人和朋友们。。。

欧亨利 圣诞礼物 THE GIFT OF THE MAGI by O. Henry

今天是节礼日(Boxing day). 我想和我的好友们分享一篇与圣诞节有关的短文. 这是一篇很有意思的短文...

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.
There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.

In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."

The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.

Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling--something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.

There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.

Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.

Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.

So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.

On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.

Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."

"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.

"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."

Down rippled the brown cascade.

"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.

"Give it to me quick," said Della.

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value--the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.

When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task.

Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.

"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"

At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.

Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."

The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.

Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.

Della wriggled off the table and went for him.

"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice-- what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."

"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.

"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"

Jim looked about the room curiously.

"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.

"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"

Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.

Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.

"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."

White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.

For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.

But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"

And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.

"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."

Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.

"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."

The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

UEFA Champions League draw （Round of 16）

欧洲冠军联赛16强淘汰赛的抽签仪式竟然在趁我不注意的情况下进行了 @@...在美丽的瑞士， 阿尔卑斯山脚下， 它的抽签结果竟然是那么残酷！！！

多说无益， 先来看一看抽签的结果吧！














来看一下我心爱的红军利物浦对上哪一队? 哇老！ 是皇马！！！ 什么？？ 没错， 皇家马德里， Real Madrid！ 看在老天的份上， 请把这支西班牙政客们用来洗黑钱的俱乐部干掉！ 他们玷污了纯洁的白色！！请相信利物浦， 相信Torres， 相信Gerrard, 相信Benitez。。。。。。

其他的小俱乐部， 我就懒惰多费笔墨了， 自己去看体育版吧！他们会告诉你谁谁谁重返哪里？谁和谁不是冤家不聚头！ 我有兴趣的， 是利物浦的下一个对手而已。

一则国际趣闻

来来来， 有好料看！！！　

















美国总统布什（还没轮到奥巴马＝））和伊拉克总理（你可以说他是美国的傀儡）在记者招待会之前亲切的握手，　互相寒暄。　



















当记者会进行途中，　突然有一位记者站起来，　他想干什么？

　

















只见那位记者仁兄拿起鞋子，　用尽吃奶之力，　把鞋子往布什的方向丢去！！！　哎哟哟，　够力咯～～～



















眼看布什就要中招了，　就在这千钧一发的时刻。。。。。。。。。。。。



















布什：　我闪！！！





















哎呀，　功亏一篑啊！！　唉。。。。。。














大内禁军卫队赶忙护驾，　并把刺客擒拿归案！

好了，　故事讲完了。。。。。。

［迟些就会更新在上个周末的活动照片，　敬请期待］