<?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-6168735</id><updated>2011-10-07T08:46:52.048+07:00</updated><title type='text'>...where the streets have no name</title><subtitle type='html'>this is my blog. updated... whenever i wanted to.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>praditya.salim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11347801910454372103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a15/didit25/didit.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6168735.post-3685614211760994983</id><published>2007-10-09T12:25:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T23:19:19.616+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Culprit Cupid</title><summary type='text'>Had I met you in person, I would've broken both your arms, snapped your bow, and shoved the arrows up your arse!!!And then perhaps you'll think twice before playing around with your arsenal.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/feeds/3685614211760994983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6168735&amp;postID=3685614211760994983' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/3685614211760994983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/3685614211760994983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/2007/10/culprit-cupid.html' title='Culprit Cupid'/><author><name>praditya.salim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11347801910454372103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a15/didit25/didit.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCWMJRmK85U/RwsRNXnw9vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7rk9J7uETLE/s72-c/cupid.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6168735.post-6256666934147094090</id><published>2007-06-22T11:33:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2007-06-29T20:06:13.517+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Johan dan Enny</title><summary type='text'>Kenapa Johan (terus) jatuh cinta pada Enny?- Johan dari dulu banget suka sama Enny, tapi Enny masih punya pacar. Jadi johan nunggu selama setahun sampai Enny putus, baru berani mulai telpon2 dan ngajak nonton- Johan ngedeketin Enny selama 5 bulan, trus nembak, lalu ditolak. Tak patah arang, bulan depannya Johan nembak lagi, diterima- Enny tau kalo Johan lapar, pasti marah2. Jadi Enny cuma ketawa2</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/feeds/6256666934147094090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6168735&amp;postID=6256666934147094090' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/6256666934147094090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/6256666934147094090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/2007/06/johan-dan-enny.html' title='Johan dan Enny'/><author><name>praditya.salim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11347801910454372103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a15/didit25/didit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6168735.post-116037713922071338</id><published>2006-10-09T13:57:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T13:58:59.226+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Linger</title><summary type='text'>        She came into my life when I was still in college, right after I finished my relationship with the one before her. It’s just fair to admit that I’ve been thinking of C ever since I laid my eyes on her, when I saw her in an exhibition in PS. Yes, I was still in a relationship then.     We spent 5 wonderful years together. My parents never said anything bad about her. My sisters were very </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/feeds/116037713922071338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6168735&amp;postID=116037713922071338' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/116037713922071338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/116037713922071338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/2006/10/linger.html' title='Linger'/><author><name>praditya.salim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11347801910454372103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a15/didit25/didit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6168735.post-116037699885836189</id><published>2006-10-09T13:55:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T14:07:15.230+07:00</updated><title type='text'>From Nothing To Advertising</title><summary type='text'>I have always had a thing for advertising. When I was a lot younger, my father was a subscriber of TIME magazines. And my older sister, of course, like the rest of the flock her age that time, never missed a single edition of seventeen. What I liked most from those magazines were the ads in them. I spent vast amount of times studying the harmony of the copy and image in the ads, and admiring the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/feeds/116037699885836189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6168735&amp;postID=116037699885836189' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/116037699885836189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/116037699885836189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/2006/10/from-nothing-to-advertising.html' title='From Nothing To Advertising'/><author><name>praditya.salim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11347801910454372103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a15/didit25/didit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6168735.post-114881872859498926</id><published>2006-05-28T19:16:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2006-05-28T19:24:22.196+07:00</updated><title type='text'>... about a boy</title><summary type='text'>4 pm.     The boy had just finished his afternoon bath. It was 4 hours away from seeing stringfellow hawke and dominic santini eradicating yet another stealth terrorist jet, or a missile-full yacht with their helicopter on the telly. So he decided to stroll down the complex, riding his bike to kill some time     Being a daydreamer, he was not fully aware of his surroundings, and kept on pedaling </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/feeds/114881872859498926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6168735&amp;postID=114881872859498926' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/114881872859498926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/114881872859498926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/2006/05/about-boy.html' title='... about a boy'/><author><name>praditya.salim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11347801910454372103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a15/didit25/didit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6168735.post-114866297233289899</id><published>2006-05-27T00:02:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2006-05-27T00:30:48.020+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blaming People</title><summary type='text'>I came across this article in a site, and thought how applicable the content is to us anywhere in the world- If a woman burns her thighs on the hot coffee she was holding in her lap while driving, she blames the restaurant- If your teen-age son kills himself, you blame the rock 'n roll music or musician he liked.- If you smoke three packs a day for 40 years and die of lung cancer, your family </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/feeds/114866297233289899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6168735&amp;postID=114866297233289899' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/114866297233289899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/114866297233289899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/2006/05/blaming-people.html' title='Blaming People'/><author><name>praditya.salim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11347801910454372103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a15/didit25/didit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6168735.post-114866293615955756</id><published>2006-05-27T00:01:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2006-05-27T00:30:54.793+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life With a Purpose</title><summary type='text'>A simple incident with a great effect. &lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o /&gt;I went to Carrefour RatuPlaza a couple of days ago with two friends. We were there because this girl needed to buy her daily needs. And this other one was in agreement with me to get ourselves some ice cream. Cheap ones.So we strolled along together through the racks in the hypermarket. The trolley traffic was pretty light </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/feeds/114866293615955756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6168735&amp;postID=114866293615955756' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/114866293615955756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/114866293615955756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/2006/05/life-with-purpose.html' title='Life With a Purpose'/><author><name>praditya.salim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11347801910454372103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a15/didit25/didit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6168735.post-114866289478499223</id><published>2006-05-27T00:01:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2006-05-27T00:28:56.100+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Same Shit Different Day</title><summary type='text'>The office boy had just been duped into transferring his bank account to a criminal's who tricked him to do it by a spam sms saying that he won a reward from indosat *the fact that he uses telkomsel as his mobile provider didnt deter him from sensing that this was a fraud.A friend's father died last night and the class mailing list received 5 emails saying our condolences, while another friend </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/feeds/114866289478499223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6168735&amp;postID=114866289478499223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/114866289478499223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/114866289478499223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/2006/05/same-shit-different-day.html' title='Same Shit Different Day'/><author><name>praditya.salim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11347801910454372103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a15/didit25/didit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6168735.post-114866280033821962</id><published>2006-05-26T23:59:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2006-05-27T00:24:36.356+07:00</updated><title type='text'>threesome with your sibling</title><summary type='text'>I was driving home late last night. The digital clock in my car showed that the time was 11.34pm. I browsed through the radio channels to find a decent song to company me. I stopped as soon as I heard an announcer said something about "threesome".Okay, I'm not really into such a thing, so after listening for a while, I was about to switch to another channel. As my finger was about to touch the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/feeds/114866280033821962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6168735&amp;postID=114866280033821962' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/114866280033821962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/114866280033821962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/2006/05/threesome-with-your-sibling.html' title='threesome with your sibling'/><author><name>praditya.salim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11347801910454372103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a15/didit25/didit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6168735.post-114866273700292333</id><published>2006-05-26T23:55:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2006-05-27T00:15:00.093+07:00</updated><title type='text'>caught in the act "me"</title><summary type='text'>My girlfriend confronted me with a rather unusual question a couple of nights ago. Out of thin air, she said "mas, did you, or did you not go out with a girl friend last week". I said i did, but i cant remember with which ones and went where. She usually doesnt make such a big fuss out of this. Vice versa. So i got a little bit suspicious with the question, and asked back: "Why? Did any of your </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/feeds/114866273700292333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6168735&amp;postID=114866273700292333' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/114866273700292333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/114866273700292333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/2006/05/caught-in-act-me.html' title='caught in the act &quot;me&quot;'/><author><name>praditya.salim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11347801910454372103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a15/didit25/didit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6168735.post-114866236473832465</id><published>2006-05-26T23:47:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2006-05-26T23:52:44.753+07:00</updated><title type='text'>It doesnt belong there</title><summary type='text'>I dont belong here...That's exatly what came across my mind when i saw what is shown in the pic. I'm not saying that my existence in my office is compared to a pubic hair in a basin. Although, there's a slight similarity. While wondering who-the-hey pissed in the basin makes me wonder how did i end up in where i am now. Now, a responsible janitor will clean up the hair back to where it belong. In</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/feeds/114866236473832465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6168735&amp;postID=114866236473832465' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/114866236473832465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/114866236473832465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/2006/05/it-doesnt-belong-there.html' title='It doesnt belong there'/><author><name>praditya.salim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11347801910454372103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a15/didit25/didit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6168735.post-113281832519171373</id><published>2005-11-24T14:28:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2005-12-13T13:00:20.493+07:00</updated><title type='text'>belong not</title><summary type='text'>- Ever seen a pubic hair in the sink?  - Ever seen Darren Fletcher dribbling and making passes?  - Ever seen a red-plated company car in PS at weekends?  - Ever seen a 14-year-old tripping in a club at 3am?  - Ever found a good-looking-not-family-related-bloke photograph in your girlfriend’s wallet?  - Ever found cuts of toenails sticking in your forehead after you prayed?  - Ever accidentally (</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/feeds/113281832519171373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6168735&amp;postID=113281832519171373' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/113281832519171373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/113281832519171373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/2005/11/belong-not.html' title='belong not'/><author><name>praditya.salim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11347801910454372103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a15/didit25/didit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6168735.post-113153544349486813</id><published>2005-11-09T18:17:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2005-11-09T18:24:03.506+07:00</updated><title type='text'>bankrupted, cheap, babbling me...</title><summary type='text'>  I remember being able to go out and have a hell lot of fun with a rp20k bill in hand. The same time when I could get myself the latest-state-of-the-art mobile phones or gadgets. Gone are the days when I could still go abroad and pay my meals in dollars, buy the tube tickets in pounds, or tip in francs.      Ever since I had a job of my own, and supported myself for that matter, all those </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/feeds/113153544349486813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6168735&amp;postID=113153544349486813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/113153544349486813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/113153544349486813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/2005/11/bankrupted-cheap-babbling-me.html' title='bankrupted, cheap, babbling me...'/><author><name>praditya.salim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11347801910454372103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a15/didit25/didit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6168735.post-113151808188915647</id><published>2005-11-09T13:21:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2006-05-26T23:55:18.296+07:00</updated><title type='text'>twisted shoulder - bruised foot - bring it on...</title><summary type='text'>Having acquired the new ability to do a “handwalk”, I do it wherever and whenever I can. That of course, doesn’t include office’ nor mosque’ floors. Mostly, I do it in appropriate places, ie. My carpeted living room, or my capoeira “dojo”. So there was this one time right before lebaran day when I was handwalking in the living room, for the purpose of being obnoxious to my ‘lil sister who was </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/feeds/113151808188915647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6168735&amp;postID=113151808188915647' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/113151808188915647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/113151808188915647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/2005/11/twisted-shoulder-bruised-foot-bring-it.html' title='twisted shoulder - bruised foot - bring it on...'/><author><name>praditya.salim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11347801910454372103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a15/didit25/didit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6168735.post-112529092602459768</id><published>2005-08-29T10:45:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2005-09-06T15:44:36.910+07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I Could Never Understand</title><summary type='text'>- Why slow drivers tend to drive on the right side of the road, and not feeling even the slightest of sorry by having faster people honking on their back- Why police officers like to hide in blind spots and stop us later on, rather than standing in front of verbodden signs and prevent us from taking the wrong turns?- Why does TELKOM say that they're committed to us?- How come bosses always </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/feeds/112529092602459768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6168735&amp;postID=112529092602459768' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/112529092602459768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/112529092602459768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/2005/08/things-i-could-never-understand.html' title='Things I Could Never Understand'/><author><name>praditya.salim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11347801910454372103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a15/didit25/didit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6168735.post-112469763395792271</id><published>2005-08-22T14:51:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2005-08-25T17:32:48.380+07:00</updated><title type='text'>a Steve Job's Story</title><summary type='text'>How i envy people who are doing what they like...PS: pardon the messy article typo arrangement. I got this from en email from a friend, and too lazy to edit the whole thing------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&gt; &gt;Steve Jobs, 2005 Stanford Commencement Address&gt; &gt;This is the prepared text of the address by Steve&gt; Jobs, CEO of Apple&gt; &gt;Computer and </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/feeds/112469763395792271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6168735&amp;postID=112469763395792271' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/112469763395792271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/112469763395792271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/2005/08/steve-jobs-story.html' title='a Steve Job&apos;s Story'/><author><name>praditya.salim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11347801910454372103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a15/didit25/didit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6168735.post-107059463440339340</id><published>2003-12-05T10:17:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2005-08-19T16:28:09.226+07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>greetings, earthlings...!!!!this will be my first post in my blog. please welcome me, the blog virgin... anyway, found this site from a friend's recommendation. 2 friends, actually. but i hardly notice the first notice. i'll try to post as often as i could (or would), but then again... every euphoria won't last forever, would it? so, without futher delay, let the blogging begin...</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/feeds/107059463440339340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6168735&amp;postID=107059463440339340' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/107059463440339340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6168735/posts/default/107059463440339340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradityasalim.blogspot.com/2003/12/greetings-earthlings.html' title=''/><author><name>praditya.salim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11347801910454372103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a15/didit25/didit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
