A few nice cool car and girls images I found:
Tags:Cool, girls, Nice, photos, today
Monday, September 30, 2013
Lamborghini line , Goodwood Festival Of Speed 2013
Check out these cars and girl images today:
Lamborghini line , Goodwood Festival Of Speed 2013
Image by Hammerhead27
Tags:2013, Festival, Goodwood, Lamborghini, line', Speed
they call me a gear queer, but this is ridiculous!
A few nice nice cars with girls images I found:
they call me a gear queer, but this is ridiculous!
Image by eyewashdesign: A. Golden
About three months ago, my sister discovered this beautiful 1955 Dodge Jobline pick-up truck in a local Charleston newspaper. Knowing how much I’d always dreamed of owning a 1950′s red pick-up, she rang to tell me about the listing and I located it online. We talked about how beautiful it was and of all the things we’d love to do with the truck, but the price was simply too high and over time, we soon forgot about her.
Then, about two weeks ago, our Granny passed away and I found myself back in S.C. for her burial. One day shortly after, with emotions still at an all-time high, my sister and I decided we would go kayaking where our Granny and Grandpa were born and raised. It would’ve been a great trip, except none of the weather forecasters had predicted the severe thunderstorms that ensued and we quickly found ourselves in need of alternative plans. What better to do than shop, right?
With our trip canceled, we found ourselves riding around Mt. Pleasant with a ridiculously large two-person kayak on our roof and "nothing" to do. I mentioned thinking it would be nice to go back and check out this 1960′s "Endless Summer" type canary yellow station wagon we'd passed the day before, so we headed to the garage where it was parked. After perusing a wide array of vintage vehicles, we made out way to the garage and struck up a conversation with the mechanics. We inquired about some of the vintage vehicles and mentioned we'd found a red 1950's red pick-up a few months back and asked if they'd ever seen one. They mentioned knowing of both a black and a white 1950′s truck, but no red one. As the conversation neared the ½ hour mark, one of the mechanics remembered he'd seen a red 1950's pick-up parked at a law firm not far from the shop. As soon as he said this I thought (and my sister claims I said out loud), "That's it!".
After getting a few other places / people's names who might know where to find a 1950's pick-up, we took our chances and headed to see the truck the mechanic had mentioned seeing "a while back". We had nothing to lose by looking. As soon as we saw the vehicle and drove around the back-end, I knew it was the same one my sister had found three months prior. On the driver's door window hung a sign advertising a slashed price and a phone number. After taking some photos and checking out the vehicle, my sister rang the listed number. We'd both just assumed the truck belonged to a man, so when a woman answered, she was surprised. After speaking for a few minutes, it became clear the voice at the other end was not going to "hand the phone over" (to a man). So, my sister asked, "Are you the owner?", to which the woman replied, "Yes!".
Needless to say, I think we were all a little surprised. The owner – Christine – explained she’d moved to Charleston from NYC to get into the bakery business and had bought the truck to "pick up men" – yes, that's why she'd gotten it. At this juncture, my sister looked like she’d seen a ghost. There were several reasons for this "ook". One being, she'd been born in NY and two, her sister (that’d be me) currently lives there. Thirdly, she’d been trying to figure out how to transition out of a career in radio and was thinking of starting a baking business! I’m not kidding. When she asked Christine if owning the truck had indeed helped her meet any men, she said it hadn’t, but that the truck had been rented quite a few times for photo shoots and commercials. Gears in our heads quickly began turning. And Christine was so happy that women were calling about the truck because she specifically wanted to sell the truck to a female. She told us to go into the offices and get the keys to go for a spin.
She'd also mentioned the mechanic who'd worked on the truck was close by and told us where to find his garage. After going in and speaking with a lovely woman who had some problem locating the keys, we went back outside to wait. After a few minutes, the keys arrived and the girl mentioned if we could wait, that the mechanic who'd worked on the vehicle would be coming by to pick both she and her Mum in a few minutes. Huh? Why?!? Because the mechanic was her father! When we heard this, it was like a bolt of lightening had struck. How was it possible the mechanic we'd just been told about and whom we were going to go visit would be coming to us? Things were just getting too weird, so, of course, we waited. It seemed kizmit was taking over at this juncture.
It had been a while since I'd driven a standard, though it's been my main transmission for the majority of my driving years, so I wasn't too worried. And, my sister had learned how to drive a standard shift on a tractor on someone's farm, so between the two of us, we thought we'd be okay. Not long after, the mechanic arrived. If seemed the truck hadn't been started in a while, so he had to jump-start her and we all piled in. He took us to a nearby car park and we drove around back to an empty area. My sister decided to go first and we all had a really good laugh. Next, it was my turn and after the mechanic properly explained the H-gear pattern, I did an so-so job with the ½ ton, no power steering, no power breaks slant V6 badass – though this isn't to say it wasn't nerve-racking as hell! Not only was she extremely difficult to maneuver, but somehow driving her made one's hands completely black and at some point, we'd all touched our faces and had black marks all over ourselves and our clothing. We looked like Al Jolsen in his black-face – except, in reverse!
After returning to the law firm, we said we'd be back in a few days. We spent a day trying to figure out how we could make getting this truck happen and returned to take (what we'd already named) "Big Red" to a few mechanics shops and restoration experts the following day. Before getting out on crowded main roads, we decided to get some more practice driving the truck and so, after some quick cleaning of the windows and interior, we headed back to that nearby car park.
It's a good thing my sister had learned to drive on a tractor, because on this particular 97degree afternoon, "Big Red" was akin to driving around in a 1/2 ton tractor. Driving Red was roughly the equivalent to taking part in a triathlon in 105 degree temperatures. Because she's so hard to drive, on one occasion, I had to grab the giant wheel and help my sister make a turn! Yes, it took two of us and we're both over 5"10, with plenty of muscle. Oh how I was beginning to appreciate power steering!
Jerking in-and-out-of all three gears, my sister finally stalled Big Red for a second time – sending us to a halting stop. Sweating and dirty, she screamed out in frustration, "Oh my God, I can’t do this! We're crazy! This is never going to work!". Searching for the inspirational words an older sibling is supposed to have at the ready, I turned my head and spotted this white big rig parked just beside us and nearly fainted. For, it was a Cardinal line truck with no more than two cardinal emblems – one on the cab and one on the trailer – emblazoned upon it.
You see, our Grandfather, who had died when we were very small was a country boy (related to Swamp Fox – yeah!) and his favorite bird was the cardinal. We know anytime one crosses our paths, to pay close attention. Gasping, I directed her attention right toward the "cardinal spotting" and we both nearly lost it. Tears welled up in both our eyes. My sister then took a deep breath and said, "Did you see the pair of cardinals fly past us as we drove back here?". I hadn’t and said so, but quickly grabbed my camera to capture the rig carrying the cardinal message from our Gran.
While neither said so, in that moment, I think we both knew we’d buy the 1955 Dodge- even before we took her to get checked out. Can’t go against the elders, right? We offered nearly half the original price and Christine accepted. So, if for any reason, you're in need of a classic 1955 Dodge pick up truck in fire engine red, you know who to contact!
Photographer: A. Golden, eyewash design – Charleston, S.C., July, 2008
call me BIG RED.
Image by eyewashdesign: A. Golden
About three months ago, my sister discovered this beautiful 1955 Dodge Jobline pick-up truck in a local Charleston newspaper. Knowing how much I’d always dreamed of owning a 1950′s red pick-up, she rang to tell me about the listing and I located it online. We talked about how beautiful it was and of all the things we’d love to do with the truck, but the price was simply too high and over time, we soon forgot about her.
Then, about two weeks ago, our Granny passed away and I found myself back in S.C. for her burial. One day shortly after, with emotions still at an all-time high, my sister and I decided we would go kayaking where our Granny and Grandpa were born and raised. It would’ve been a great trip, except none of the weather forecasters had predicted the severe thunderstorms that ensued and we quickly found ourselves in need of alternative plans. What better to do than shop, right?
With our trip canceled, we found ourselves riding around Mt. Pleasant with a ridiculously large two-person kayak on our roof and "nothing" to do. I mentioned thinking it would be nice to go back and check out this 1960′s "Endless Summer" type canary yellow station wagon we'd passed the day before, so we headed to the garage where it was parked. After perusing a wide array of vintage vehicles, we made out way to the garage and struck up a conversation with the mechanics. We inquired about some of the vintage vehicles and mentioned we'd found a red 1950's red pick-up a few months back and asked if they'd ever seen one. They mentioned knowing of both a black and a white 1950′s truck, but no red one. As the conversation neared the ½ hour mark, one of the mechanics remembered he'd seen a red 1950's pick-up parked at a law firm not far from the shop. As soon as he said this I thought (and my sister claims I said out loud), "That's it!".
After getting a few other places / people's names who might know where to find a 1950's pick-up, we took our chances and headed to see the truck the mechanic had mentioned seeing "a while back". We had nothing to lose by looking. As soon as we saw the vehicle and drove around the back-end, I knew it was the same one my sister had found three months prior. On the driver's door window hung a sign advertising a slashed price and a phone number. After taking some photos and checking out the vehicle, my sister rang the listed number. We'd both just assumed the truck belonged to a man, so when a woman answered, she was surprised. After speaking for a few minutes, it became clear the voice at the other end was not going to "hand the phone over" (to a man). So, my sister asked, "Are you the owner?", to which the woman replied, "Yes!".
Needless to say, I think we were all a little surprised. The owner – Christine – explained she’d moved to Charleston from NYC to get into the bakery business and had bought the truck to "pick up men" – yes, that's why she'd gotten it. At this juncture, my sister looked like she’d seen a ghost. There were several reasons for this "ook". One being, she'd been born in NY and two, her sister (that’d be me) currently lives there. Thirdly, she’d been trying to figure out how to transition out of a career in radio and was thinking of starting a baking business! I’m not kidding. When she asked Christine if owning the truck had indeed helped her meet any men, she said it hadn’t, but that the truck had been rented quite a few times for photo shoots and commercials. Gears in our heads quickly began turning. And Christine was so happy that women were calling about the truck because she specifically wanted to sell the truck to a female. She told us to go into the offices and get the keys to go for a spin.
She'd also mentioned the mechanic who'd worked on the truck was close by and told us where to find his garage. After going in and speaking with a lovely woman who had some problem locating the keys, we went back outside to wait. After a few minutes, the keys arrived and the girl mentioned if we could wait, that the mechanic who'd worked on the vehicle would be coming by to pick both she and her Mum in a few minutes. Huh? Why?!? Because the mechanic was her father! When we heard this, it was like a bolt of lightening had struck. How was it possible the mechanic we'd just been told about and whom we were going to go visit would be coming to us? Things were just getting too weird, so, of course, we waited. It seemed kizmit was taking over at this juncture.
It had been a while since I'd driven a standard, though it's been my main transmission for the majority of my driving years, so I wasn't too worried. And, my sister had learned how to drive a standard shift on a tractor on someone's farm, so between the two of us, we thought we'd be okay. Not long after, the mechanic arrived. If seemed the truck hadn't been started in a while, so he had to jump-start her and we all piled in. He took us to a nearby car park and we drove around back to an empty area. My sister decided to go first and we all had a really good laugh. Next, it was my turn and after the mechanic properly explained the H-gear pattern, I did an so-so job with the ½ ton, no power steering, no power breaks slant V6 badass – though this isn't to say it wasn't nerve-racking as hell! Not only was she extremely difficult to maneuver, but somehow driving her made one's hands completely black and at some point, we'd all touched our faces and had black marks all over ourselves and our clothing. We looked like Al Jolsen in his black-face – except, in reverse!
After returning to the law firm, we said we'd be back in a few days. We spent a day trying to figure out how we could make getting this truck happen and returned to take (what we'd already named) "Big Red" to a few mechanics shops and restoration experts the following day. Before getting out on crowded main roads, we decided to get some more practice driving the truck and so, after some quick cleaning of the windows and interior, we headed back to that nearby car park.
It's a good thing my sister had learned to drive on a tractor, because on this particular 97degree afternoon, "Big Red" was akin to driving around in a 1/2 ton tractor. Driving Red was roughly the equivalent to taking part in a triathlon in 105 degree temperatures. Because she's so hard to drive, on one occasion, I had to grab the giant wheel and help my sister make a turn! Yes, it took two of us and we're both over 5"10, with plenty of muscle. Oh how I was beginning to appreciate power steering!
Jerking in-and-out-of all three gears, my sister finally stalled Big Red for a second time – sending us to a halting stop. Sweating and dirty, she screamed out in frustration, "Oh my God, I can’t do this! We're crazy! This is never going to work!". Searching for the inspirational words an older sibling is supposed to have at the ready, I turned my head and spotted this white big rig parked just beside us and nearly fainted. For, it was a Cardinal line truck with no more than two cardinal emblems – one on the cab and one on the trailer – emblazoned upon it.
You see, our Grandfather, who had died when we were very small was a country boy (related to Swamp Fox – yeah!) and his favorite bird was the cardinal. We know anytime one crosses our paths, to pay close attention. Gasping, I directed her attention right toward the "cardinal spotting" and we both nearly lost it. Tears welled up in both our eyes. My sister then took a deep breath and said, "Did you see the pair of cardinals fly past us as we drove back here?". I hadn’t and said so, but quickly grabbed my camera to capture the rig carrying the cardinal message from our Gran.
While neither said so, in that moment, I think we both knew we’d buy the 1955 Dodge- even before we took her to get checked out. Can’t go against the elders, right? We offered nearly half the original price and Christine accepted. So, if for any reason, you're in need of a classic 1955 Dodge pick up truck in fire engine red, you know who to contact!
Photographer: A. Golden, eyewash design – Charleston, S.C., July, 2008
spot the a/c?
Image by eyewashdesign: A. Golden
About three months ago, my sister discovered this beautiful 1955 Dodge Jobline pick-up truck in a local Charleston newspaper. Knowing how much I’d always dreamed of owning a 1950′s red pick-up, she rang to tell me about the listing and I located it online. We talked about how beautiful it was and of all the things we’d love to do with the truck, but the price was simply too high and over time, we soon forgot about her.
Then, about two weeks ago, our Granny passed away and I found myself back in S.C. for her burial. One day shortly after, with emotions still at an all-time high, my sister and I decided we would go kayaking where our Granny and Grandpa were born and raised. It would’ve been a great trip, except none of the weather forecasters had predicted the severe thunderstorms that ensued and we quickly found ourselves in need of alternative plans. What better to do than shop, right?
With our trip canceled, we found ourselves riding around Mt. Pleasant with a ridiculously large two-person kayak on our roof and "nothing" to do. I mentioned thinking it would be nice to go back and check out this 1960′s "Endless Summer" type canary yellow station wagon we'd passed the day before, so we headed to the garage where it was parked. After perusing a wide array of vintage vehicles, we made out way to the garage and struck up a conversation with the mechanics. We inquired about some of the vintage vehicles and mentioned we'd found a red 1950's red pick-up a few months back and asked if they'd ever seen one. They mentioned knowing of both a black and a white 1950′s truck, but no red one. As the conversation neared the ½ hour mark, one of the mechanics remembered he'd seen a red 1950's pick-up parked at a law firm not far from the shop. As soon as he said this I thought (and my sister claims I said out loud), "That's it!".
After getting a few other places / people's names who might know where to find a 1950's pick-up, we took our chances and headed to see the truck the mechanic had mentioned seeing "a while back". We had nothing to lose by looking. As soon as we saw the vehicle and drove around the back-end, I knew it was the same one my sister had found three months prior. On the driver's door window hung a sign advertising a slashed price and a phone number. After taking some photos and checking out the vehicle, my sister rang the listed number. We'd both just assumed the truck belonged to a man, so when a woman answered, she was surprised. After speaking for a few minutes, it became clear the voice at the other end was not going to "hand the phone over" (to a man). So, my sister asked, "Are you the owner?", to which the woman replied, "Yes!".
Needless to say, I think we were all a little surprised. The owner – Christine – explained she’d moved to Charleston from NYC to get into the bakery business and had bought the truck to "pick up men" – yes, that's why she'd gotten it. At this juncture, my sister looked like she’d seen a ghost. There were several reasons for this "ook". One being, she'd been born in NY and two, her sister (that’d be me) currently lives there. Thirdly, she’d been trying to figure out how to transition out of a career in radio and was thinking of starting a baking business! I’m not kidding. When she asked Christine if owning the truck had indeed helped her meet any men, she said it hadn’t, but that the truck had been rented quite a few times for photo shoots and commercials. Gears in our heads quickly began turning. And Christine was so happy that women were calling about the truck because she specifically wanted to sell the truck to a female. She told us to go into the offices and get the keys to go for a spin.
She'd also mentioned the mechanic who'd worked on the truck was close by and told us where to find his garage. After going in and speaking with a lovely woman who had some problem locating the keys, we went back outside to wait. After a few minutes, the keys arrived and the girl mentioned if we could wait, that the mechanic who'd worked on the vehicle would be coming by to pick both she and her Mum in a few minutes. Huh? Why?!? Because the mechanic was her father! When we heard this, it was like a bolt of lightening had struck. How was it possible the mechanic we'd just been told about and whom we were going to go visit would be coming to us? Things were just getting too weird, so, of course, we waited. It seemed kizmit was taking over at this juncture.
It had been a while since I'd driven a standard, though it's been my main transmission for the majority of my driving years, so I wasn't too worried. And, my sister had learned how to drive a standard shift on a tractor on someone's farm, so between the two of us, we thought we'd be okay. Not long after, the mechanic arrived. If seemed the truck hadn't been started in a while, so he had to jump-start her and we all piled in. He took us to a nearby car park and we drove around back to an empty area. My sister decided to go first and we all had a really good laugh. Next, it was my turn and after the mechanic properly explained the H-gear pattern, I did an so-so job with the ½ ton, no power steering, no power breaks slant V6 badass – though this isn't to say it wasn't nerve-racking as hell! Not only was she extremely difficult to maneuver, but somehow driving her made one's hands completely black and at some point, we'd all touched our faces and had black marks all over ourselves and our clothing. We looked like Al Jolsen in his black-face – except, in reverse!
After returning to the law firm, we said we'd be back in a few days. We spent a day trying to figure out how we could make getting this truck happen and returned to take (what we'd already named) "Big Red" to a few mechanics shops and restoration experts the following day. Before getting out on crowded main roads, we decided to get some more practice driving the truck and so, after some quick cleaning of the windows and interior, we headed back to that nearby car park.
It's a good thing my sister had learned to drive on a tractor, because on this particular 97degree afternoon, "Big Red" was akin to driving around in a 1/2 ton tractor. Driving Red was roughly the equivalent to taking part in a triathlon in 105 degree temperatures. Because she's so hard to drive, on one occasion, I had to grab the giant wheel and help my sister make a turn! Yes, it took two of us and we're both over 5"10, with plenty of muscle. Oh how I was beginning to appreciate power steering!
Jerking in-and-out-of all three gears, my sister finally stalled Big Red for a second time – sending us to a halting stop. Sweating and dirty, she screamed out in frustration, "Oh my God, I can’t do this! We're crazy! This is never going to work!". Searching for the inspirational words an older sibling is supposed to have at the ready, I turned my head and spotted this white big rig parked just beside us and nearly fainted. For, it was a Cardinal line truck with no more than two cardinal emblems – one on the cab and one on the trailer – emblazoned upon it.
You see, our Grandfather, who had died when we were very small was a country boy (related to Swamp Fox – yeah!) and his favorite bird was the cardinal. We know anytime one crosses our paths, to pay close attention. Gasping, I directed her attention right toward the "cardinal spotting" and we both nearly lost it. Tears welled up in both our eyes. My sister then took a deep breath and said, "Did you see the pair of cardinals fly past us as we drove back here?". I hadn’t and said so, but quickly grabbed my camera to capture the rig carrying the cardinal message from our Gran.
While neither said so, in that moment, I think we both knew we’d buy the 1955 Dodge- even before we took her to get checked out. Can’t go against the elders, right? We offered nearly half the original price and Christine accepted. So, if for any reason, you're in need of a classic 1955 Dodge pick up truck in fire engine red, you know who to contact!
Photographer: A. Golden, eyewash design – Charleston, S.C., July, 2008
Tags:call, Gear|, queer, Ridiculous, they, this
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Nice Hot Car And Girls photos
A few nice hot car and girls images I found:
IMG_2372
Image by BulaPhotography
IMG_2337
Image by BulaPhotography
Tags:girls, Nice, photos
Cool Car Names For Girls images today
Some cool car names for girls images today:
IMG_2448
Image by Wootang01
The bus ride from Shenzhen to Enping was long, like watching a freight train chug by, except it doesn’t. We had to have been on that bus for seven hours, sometimes napping, and at times, staring out our windows, looking at a world standing still. Traffic was not only a nightmare, but also a mystery, for as many instances in which we could plainly see another egregiously bad vehicular accident, that which has become commonplace, ubiquitous in Chinese travel culture, there were other inexplicable stops in movement, when all of a sudden, as though finishing a swift countdown, our speed dropped so precipitously as to let out a collective lurch, if not in body, then definitely in mind. Calvin, thankfully, in his perspicacity, in his wide-angled, unique view of things, saw beyond the myriad vehicles which lay unmoving as if rocks on a dry riverbed; view the periphery, he bade us, and when we looked to the edges of the road, indeed we witnessed the most peculiar instigator of traffic congestion in the world – men en masse pissing on the side of the road! Men taking leaks creates a domino effect; that one sees another enjoying the relief of an unburdened, easy bladder, so seductive a yoke, that the only retort to the entreaty of this blissful state is to join in with abandon, and impunity. And so soon as the last few shakes are made, back into the cars do these men go, and a few hasty minutes later, traffic flows again!
Mike wanted to stop at a village, so we exchanged an increasingly crowded highway for a narrow, cement road, on which we ventured into the dense verdure. Having reached an impasse in the road soon thereafter, and not knowing how to advance further, to actually enter the village proper, we saw two lovely young ladies saddling a moped, motoring towards us. They then suddenly broke, and turned off our path and onto a dirt one which squeezed through two homes as though a mouse through its diminutive hole – that was our key. We greeted them as the girls turned their heads, offering us inquisitive, yet gentle looks. They would be our guides into town.
Blue showed me around her neighborhood. Together we walked along bumpy corridors and peered through open windows, beyond flitting cobwebs, to lay eyes on rooms where nowadays only impenetrable shadows repose. She and I examined the perfunctory red banners which framed each door in the village, and subsequently hit it off when I began inquiring into the nature of those two swarthy demons who hung menacingly before the closed doors, their gazes insidiously wild, drunk with rage, perhaps. Indeed later, in the quietude of a sunset raining down on us, while standing by ourselves in front of the village hall, I finally shared my faith with her, and in return she declared the lack of her own – her cousin and older sister, however, do know Jesus, she said, which verily warmed my heart, if not hers.
We left the village with much rapidity, but not before I blessed and encouraged Blue’s cousin, in whose arms a smiling babe lay, and received joyfully a delectable departing gift: mysterious, "Blue Cookies" (the official Chinese name is 艾糍), whose mottled, homely complexion would disgust if not for the sweetness (an amalgam of sugar, peanuts and herbs) buried inside, a treasure which would be discovered again and again on our tour.
The food around Enping epitomizes, I believe, Guangdong cuisine: inexpensive and egregiously non-spicy. For what they lack in price and incendiary acidity, however, these dishes more than compensate with copious amounts of oil, salt and sugar, mixed together for a tantalizing effect on the taste buds. Our group was fortunate enough to have frequented several Guangdong-style dai pai dongs whose victuals both nourished our bodies and replenished our wallets – it’s amazing to consider how 0RMB can feed 15 ravenous, cantankerous-when-hungry Christian bikers. In fact, the feasting grew exponentially more enjoyable as journey progressed, as our two primary orderers began to refine their culinary acuity, accurately predicting what would invigorate and excite our collective palate; it helped, too, that our utensils were pretty clean for Chinese standards!
Our first evening, we secured accommodations in a building that was not so much a hotel, or even a motel, as a grey, dry concrete edifice in which hardwood beds were arrayed neatly in each room; the spartan conditions dismayed some, including myself, at first. However, thankfulness trumped peevishness, and the realization that, in the middle of nowhere, we had mosquito nets to ward off the inexorable squad of mozzies, and one bathroom with boiling water for a very, very scalding shower was more than enough to placate everyone, especially after a hard day of riding. Besides, austerity succors the soul. We even managed to sleep pretty soundly without mattresses. In my somnolent state, I only remember shifting desperately maybe six, or seven times. It was a good night, and a bargain at only 15RMB per person!
On the second day our group dared to test itself on an unknown avenue. Consequently, we were spared the sonorous alarms of gigantic, indomitable trucks and instead subjected ourselves to the vicissitudes of off-road biking, whose soundtrack, undoubtedly for the day, was provided by an orchestra of buzzing cicadas, accompanied, at times, by the rumbling tympani of motorbikes. Oh, the countryside was lush, beautiful verdure all around – a feast for the romantic soul. Yet, for one of my companions, the environment was anything but endearing, for her adeptness at handling the desultory trail, she surely felt, was more chaotic than controlled. She persevered, nonetheless, pushing through her disconsolation to conquer the race marked out for her; such tenacity that only the Father could supply; and that left me thoroughly impressed.
At lunchtime, the evangelization effort began in earnest. It started innocently enough, as I asked a group of girls about the secondary school down the dusty road from our restaurant. Then, on cue, the Spirit, whose pacing can only be described as frenetic, whose rhythm is beyond my comprehension, overwhelmed and took over. Leanne and I brought those three girls to Christ; while Tim was assiduously preaching by our side to a band of boys who had gathered to look on; and behind us, ah Cheung had cajoled five boys to form a circle, hand in hand, for prayer. Many people came to know Jesus that hour. There was undoubtedly some serious fire falling down on us!
We made a pit stop at the Tam clan village. It was another bucolic community, replete with idling boys, young and old, and those two duplicitous demons standing watch from steady doors, which, it appeared, held together together the ramshackle walls beside them. An electricity meter evinced the reality of life in the village, of a living community that flows flittingly in and out of the houses as though cats leaping over canals; because I for one couldn’t see how hundreds of people somehow resided inside those homes when I couldn’t spot a single one during my brief tour of the grounds. In the open, by our bikes, there were conspicuous signs of life, however. I was standing in the sun, letting its warm rays melt on my skin, when a young man, not even twenty, approached and asked me about our intents and purposes on what was once such a dull afternoon. His curiosity got the better of me, and together we broached a conversation in faith. Simon joined us, and although he whom I named Henry, told us in his obstinacy that he depends on himself alone, I feel as though a small seed of faith was still planted within him. May it bloom at the appointed time when he most needs it.
At last, inside the unlit store where we shared our gleaming hopes and fantastic dreams, Simon and I noticed, to our surprise and delight, two blackboards on which the shopkeeper had written the alphabet, for English as well as for Putonghua (Pinyin). Besides the letters, numbers too had been painstakingly etched into the board, each meticulous stroke perfectly formed. So they ironically were learning that which continues to elude their more economically mobile brethren in Hong Kong, despite their most humble upbringing. I encouraged Henry to pursue this knowledge, since, as the cliche most rightly states, English – and Putonghua, these days – opens up a world of opportunity.
China, it seems to me, is one interminable housing start being carried on the shoulders of giants. Behemoths, really, an armada of green and blue dump trucks, on whose backs are the physical manifestation of the hopes and dreams of billions – timber; stone; and coal – were an inescapable part of our three-day trek. They blew passed us, literally, horns afire; and if you stared into the eyes of the drivers high above on those mechanized elephants, you would see the glee with which they pounded both the road and the eardrums of those unwitting peons foolish enough to be nearby. China – and China Mobile, whose stores we uncovered even in the most remote suburb, might I add! – still has much growth left, and the transportation and infrastructure industries, I’m sure, shall assiduously work to keep it that way. My recommendation: keep investing in China.
Visiting the hot springs had been on our agenda since the inception of the trip. We eventually had our chance the second evening, when we raced down a wending hill to our hotel – a real hotel. Our excitement reverberated in the air, crackling with laughter and shouting. Choosing to swim first and foremost, we left dinner to wait and hurried across the street. The resort was packed with other like-minded people, dressed in swimming costumes that should have left more to the imagination; the temperature of the pool water varied, from tepid in one enclosure to skin-searing in another; and for one marvelous hour, we swam and frolicked like little children again, delighting in some wet fun, a suitable reward for one more arduous day spent on the dusty, dry land.
We capped the end of a successful day with a bang. The girls, oddly enough, were furtive pyromaniacs in our midst, longing in secret to raid the fireworks shop at the base of the hotel. So after our meal, they raced into the cool evening air and we could only endeavor to follow them in their explosive folly. Inside the store, all sorts of bombastic devices were on display, from the unwieldy, block of (Chicago) bull to the sleek spears adorning the wall whose warheads, no doubt, could just so easily take out a few eyes as mercilessly rip the pitch black from the wall of night sky. The ladies suffered to leave no type of firework untouched by the flame, quickly purchasing an arsenal of rainbow-inducing rockets and slim sparklers to make any pyrotechnic maven proud. Outside we went. At length, the bombs burst in the air, and laughter abound so much as we watched the brilliance of Chinese engineering on display. With the girls’ scintillating stock depleted, we finally collected ourselves, and headed upstairs for one more day of wonderment.
There was one last village to visit before we reached our final destination of Enping city. As we sped into the shanty community, we knew something was amiss because unlike our other entrances into villages, during which residents would emerge in droves to glimpse us, it seemed as though these villagers preferred the comfort of their own veiled homes to the company of a few, ebullient strangers. It was an ominous setting in which we found ourselves, one characterized by inhabitants rather mistrustful than gregarious, and affable. Nonetheless, we dispersed to share kindness and mercy. To that end, I approached a young lady, a mere 25-years old, who had her three-month old boy on her shoulder and her three-year old son – who was without pants, might I add, preferring to wave them in the air like a terrible towel – by her side. We spoke briefly about her hopes and dreams, which, she says, rest in the well-being of her sons; and then Leanne and I blessed her. That was the end of our village experience in China.
To be around people who sharpen you as iron sharpens iron, that verily is a joy. The villagers were simple, warm and welcoming; my teammates were jocular, presumptuous and faithful; and I, in the midst of this confluence, this mosaic of personalities, philosophies, hopes and dreams, could only seek to love, especially in one of my more pensive moments. The trip tested my patience and tolerance, my ability to accept others for who they are – each a flawed creature like myself. Ultimately, so much as we seek the men of peace everywhere we go, we individually must become men of peace too. A true disciple of Jesus runs that race, and appreciates His grace, which shall always be enough in this life.
IMG_2592
Image by Wootang01
The bus ride from Shenzhen to Enping was long, like watching a freight train chug by, except it doesn’t. We had to have been on that bus for seven hours, sometimes napping, and at times, staring out our windows, looking at a world standing still. Traffic was not only a nightmare, but also a mystery, for as many instances in which we could plainly see another egregiously bad vehicular accident, that which has become commonplace, ubiquitous in Chinese travel culture, there were other inexplicable stops in movement, when all of a sudden, as though finishing a swift countdown, our speed dropped so precipitously as to let out a collective lurch, if not in body, then definitely in mind. Calvin, thankfully, in his perspicacity, in his wide-angled, unique view of things, saw beyond the myriad vehicles which lay unmoving as if rocks on a dry riverbed; view the periphery, he bade us, and when we looked to the edges of the road, indeed we witnessed the most peculiar instigator of traffic congestion in the world – men en masse pissing on the side of the road! Men taking leaks creates a domino effect; that one sees another enjoying the relief of an unburdened, easy bladder, so seductive a yoke, that the only retort to the entreaty of this blissful state is to join in with abandon, and impunity. And so soon as the last few shakes are made, back into the cars do these men go, and a few hasty minutes later, traffic flows again!
Mike wanted to stop at a village, so we exchanged an increasingly crowded highway for a narrow, cement road, on which we ventured into the dense verdure. Having reached an impasse in the road soon thereafter, and not knowing how to advance further, to actually enter the village proper, we saw two lovely young ladies saddling a moped, motoring towards us. They then suddenly broke, and turned off our path and onto a dirt one which squeezed through two homes as though a mouse through its diminutive hole – that was our key. We greeted them as the girls turned their heads, offering us inquisitive, yet gentle looks. They would be our guides into town.
Blue showed me around her neighborhood. Together we walked along bumpy corridors and peered through open windows, beyond flitting cobwebs, to lay eyes on rooms where nowadays only impenetrable shadows repose. She and I examined the perfunctory red banners which framed each door in the village, and subsequently hit it off when I began inquiring into the nature of those two swarthy demons who hung menacingly before the closed doors, their gazes insidiously wild, drunk with rage, perhaps. Indeed later, in the quietude of a sunset raining down on us, while standing by ourselves in front of the village hall, I finally shared my faith with her, and in return she declared the lack of her own – her cousin and older sister, however, do know Jesus, she said, which verily warmed my heart, if not hers.
We left the village with much rapidity, but not before I blessed and encouraged Blue’s cousin, in whose arms a smiling babe lay, and received joyfully a delectable departing gift: mysterious, "Blue Cookies" (the official Chinese name is 艾糍), whose mottled, homely complexion would disgust if not for the sweetness (an amalgam of sugar, peanuts and herbs) buried inside, a treasure which would be discovered again and again on our tour.
The food around Enping epitomizes, I believe, Guangdong cuisine: inexpensive and egregiously non-spicy. For what they lack in price and incendiary acidity, however, these dishes more than compensate with copious amounts of oil, salt and sugar, mixed together for a tantalizing effect on the taste buds. Our group was fortunate enough to have frequented several Guangdong-style dai pai dongs whose victuals both nourished our bodies and replenished our wallets – it’s amazing to consider how 0RMB can feed 15 ravenous, cantankerous-when-hungry Christian bikers. In fact, the feasting grew exponentially more enjoyable as journey progressed, as our two primary orderers began to refine their culinary acuity, accurately predicting what would invigorate and excite our collective palate; it helped, too, that our utensils were pretty clean for Chinese standards!
Our first evening, we secured accommodations in a building that was not so much a hotel, or even a motel, as a grey, dry concrete edifice in which hardwood beds were arrayed neatly in each room; the spartan conditions dismayed some, including myself, at first. However, thankfulness trumped peevishness, and the realization that, in the middle of nowhere, we had mosquito nets to ward off the inexorable squad of mozzies, and one bathroom with boiling water for a very, very scalding shower was more than enough to placate everyone, especially after a hard day of riding. Besides, austerity succors the soul. We even managed to sleep pretty soundly without mattresses. In my somnolent state, I only remember shifting desperately maybe six, or seven times. It was a good night, and a bargain at only 15RMB per person!
On the second day our group dared to test itself on an unknown avenue. Consequently, we were spared the sonorous alarms of gigantic, indomitable trucks and instead subjected ourselves to the vicissitudes of off-road biking, whose soundtrack, undoubtedly for the day, was provided by an orchestra of buzzing cicadas, accompanied, at times, by the rumbling tympani of motorbikes. Oh, the countryside was lush, beautiful verdure all around – a feast for the romantic soul. Yet, for one of my companions, the environment was anything but endearing, for her adeptness at handling the desultory trail, she surely felt, was more chaotic than controlled. She persevered, nonetheless, pushing through her disconsolation to conquer the race marked out for her; such tenacity that only the Father could supply; and that left me thoroughly impressed.
At lunchtime, the evangelization effort began in earnest. It started innocently enough, as I asked a group of girls about the secondary school down the dusty road from our restaurant. Then, on cue, the Spirit, whose pacing can only be described as frenetic, whose rhythm is beyond my comprehension, overwhelmed and took over. Leanne and I brought those three girls to Christ; while Tim was assiduously preaching by our side to a band of boys who had gathered to look on; and behind us, ah Cheung had cajoled five boys to form a circle, hand in hand, for prayer. Many people came to know Jesus that hour. There was undoubtedly some serious fire falling down on us!
We made a pit stop at the Tam clan village. It was another bucolic community, replete with idling boys, young and old, and those two duplicitous demons standing watch from steady doors, which, it appeared, held together together the ramshackle walls beside them. An electricity meter evinced the reality of life in the village, of a living community that flows flittingly in and out of the houses as though cats leaping over canals; because I for one couldn’t see how hundreds of people somehow resided inside those homes when I couldn’t spot a single one during my brief tour of the grounds. In the open, by our bikes, there were conspicuous signs of life, however. I was standing in the sun, letting its warm rays melt on my skin, when a young man, not even twenty, approached and asked me about our intents and purposes on what was once such a dull afternoon. His curiosity got the better of me, and together we broached a conversation in faith. Simon joined us, and although he whom I named Henry, told us in his obstinacy that he depends on himself alone, I feel as though a small seed of faith was still planted within him. May it bloom at the appointed time when he most needs it.
At last, inside the unlit store where we shared our gleaming hopes and fantastic dreams, Simon and I noticed, to our surprise and delight, two blackboards on which the shopkeeper had written the alphabet, for English as well as for Putonghua (Pinyin). Besides the letters, numbers too had been painstakingly etched into the board, each meticulous stroke perfectly formed. So they ironically were learning that which continues to elude their more economically mobile brethren in Hong Kong, despite their most humble upbringing. I encouraged Henry to pursue this knowledge, since, as the cliche most rightly states, English – and Putonghua, these days – opens up a world of opportunity.
China, it seems to me, is one interminable housing start being carried on the shoulders of giants. Behemoths, really, an armada of green and blue dump trucks, on whose backs are the physical manifestation of the hopes and dreams of billions – timber; stone; and coal – were an inescapable part of our three-day trek. They blew passed us, literally, horns afire; and if you stared into the eyes of the drivers high above on those mechanized elephants, you would see the glee with which they pounded both the road and the eardrums of those unwitting peons foolish enough to be nearby. China – and China Mobile, whose stores we uncovered even in the most remote suburb, might I add! – still has much growth left, and the transportation and infrastructure industries, I’m sure, shall assiduously work to keep it that way. My recommendation: keep investing in China.
Visiting the hot springs had been on our agenda since the inception of the trip. We eventually had our chance the second evening, when we raced down a wending hill to our hotel – a real hotel. Our excitement reverberated in the air, crackling with laughter and shouting. Choosing to swim first and foremost, we left dinner to wait and hurried across the street. The resort was packed with other like-minded people, dressed in swimming costumes that should have left more to the imagination; the temperature of the pool water varied, from tepid in one enclosure to skin-searing in another; and for one marvelous hour, we swam and frolicked like little children again, delighting in some wet fun, a suitable reward for one more arduous day spent on the dusty, dry land.
We capped the end of a successful day with a bang. The girls, oddly enough, were furtive pyromaniacs in our midst, longing in secret to raid the fireworks shop at the base of the hotel. So after our meal, they raced into the cool evening air and we could only endeavor to follow them in their explosive folly. Inside the store, all sorts of bombastic devices were on display, from the unwieldy, block of (Chicago) bull to the sleek spears adorning the wall whose warheads, no doubt, could just so easily take out a few eyes as mercilessly rip the pitch black from the wall of night sky. The ladies suffered to leave no type of firework untouched by the flame, quickly purchasing an arsenal of rainbow-inducing rockets and slim sparklers to make any pyrotechnic maven proud. Outside we went. At length, the bombs burst in the air, and laughter abound so much as we watched the brilliance of Chinese engineering on display. With the girls’ scintillating stock depleted, we finally collected ourselves, and headed upstairs for one more day of wonderment.
There was one last village to visit before we reached our final destination of Enping city. As we sped into the shanty community, we knew something was amiss because unlike our other entrances into villages, during which residents would emerge in droves to glimpse us, it seemed as though these villagers preferred the comfort of their own veiled homes to the company of a few, ebullient strangers. It was an ominous setting in which we found ourselves, one characterized by inhabitants rather mistrustful than gregarious, and affable. Nonetheless, we dispersed to share kindness and mercy. To that end, I approached a young lady, a mere 25-years old, who had her three-month old boy on her shoulder and her three-year old son – who was without pants, might I add, preferring to wave them in the air like a terrible towel – by her side. We spoke briefly about her hopes and dreams, which, she says, rest in the well-being of her sons; and then Leanne and I blessed her. That was the end of our village experience in China.
To be around people who sharpen you as iron sharpens iron, that verily is a joy. The villagers were simple, warm and welcoming; my teammates were jocular, presumptuous and faithful; and I, in the midst of this confluence, this mosaic of personalities, philosophies, hopes and dreams, could only seek to love, especially in one of my more pensive moments. The trip tested my patience and tolerance, my ability to accept others for who they are – each a flawed creature like myself. Ultimately, so much as we seek the men of peace everywhere we go, we individually must become men of peace too. A true disciple of Jesus runs that race, and appreciates His grace, which shall always be enough in this life.
Tags:Cool, girls, images, Names, today
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Nice Best Car For Girls photos today
A few nice best car for girls images I found:
Racheal Taylor
Image by Eva Rinaldi Celebrity and Live Music Photographer
Any Questions for Ben? Premiere In Sydney, Australia
The Sydney premiere of the rom com Any Questions For Ben? enjoyed its premiere in Sydney, Australia tonight.
The weather was wet, but the atmosphere was warm.
With a big name and ultra talented cast, this movie is set to do extremely well in a tough market.
St George Open Air Cinema was the venue for the premiere showing, and actress Rachael Taylor did the honours, coming back to Australia especially for the promos.
Promo
For 27-year-old Ben (Josh Lawson), life couldn't be better. A well paid job, friends, parties, girls and nothing to tie him down. But when he is invited back to his old school to join several other ex-students including Alex (Rachael Taylor) and Jim (Ed Kavalee) in talking about their personal achievements, something goes wrong. Ben is the only speaker not to be asked a question by the school kids. This triggers a year of soulsearching and looking for answers in all the wrong places.
From his best friend Andy (Christian Clark) whose solution is that they both take another holiday, to his mentor Sam (Lachy Hulme) who loans him a sports car in the belief that there's nothing like excessive speed to resolve emotional turmoil. Not even Ben's father (Rob Carlton) or friends Nick (Daniel Henshall) and Em (Felicity Ward) can offer much in the way of meaningful guidance.
Of course, it's not easy seeking enlightenment in nightclubs, or on the ski fields of New Zealand, and when you start dating a Russian tennis star things can get really complicated. As the poster boy for a generation desperate to tick every box, Ben begins to suspect that the meaning of life may well reside in the things he’s already doing – and a girl he used to know.
Stars: Josh Lawson, Rachael Taylor, Daniel Henshall, Felicity Ward, Christian Clark, Jodi Gordon
Director: Rob Sitch
Distributor: Roadshow Films
Cinema Release: 9 Feb 2012
Websites
Village Roadshow Australia
www.village.com.au
St George Open Air Cinema
www.stgeorgeopenair.com.au
Working Dog
www.workingdog.com
Eva Rinaldi Photography Flickr
www.flickr.com/evarinaldiphotography
Eva Rinaldi Photography
www.evarinaldi.com
Music News Australia
www.musicnewsaustralia.com
Tags:best, girls, Nice, photos, today
IMG_2433
Check out these hot cars and girls images today:
IMG_2433
Image by BulaPhotography
IMG_2396
Image by BulaPhotography
Tags:IMG_2433
Friday, September 27, 2013
Nice Hot Car And Girls photos
Some cool hot car and girls images today:
Mitsubishi GTO
Image by BulaPhotography
Mitsubishi GTO
Intenzity
Tags:girls, Nice, photos
Nice Car Games For Girls photos
A few nice car games for girls images I found:
Aquatherapy Minaqua
Image by Wootang01
With my friend Paul, I spend five days in Osaka, Japan. The trip provided much refreshment, and excitement, not to mention many challenges. It was my first visit to the country, and, I feel, it certainly won’t be my last, as there are still many places left to see, and so many new things to learn.
We had several destinations highlighted on our itinerary, the foremost of which was Universal Studios. We spend an entire day there, going on rides and more often than not, queuing for them. The excruciating wait times were worth it, however, for such exhilarating fun, especially on the Hollywood Roller Coaster, my personal favorite. The next morning we followed up that successful endeavor with a trip to the Himeji Castle, a place which came highly recommended by my colleague, whose succinct description of the heritage site was, "awesome." Indeed, as a history buff, I enjoyed walking the storied grounds and climbing through the maze-like interior of the keep which was designed not so much to comfortably house the royal family as to confound the invading enemy. The castle is a must-visit. Other attractions of note include the Osaka Aquarium, and the Tennoji Zoo; both teemed with animals of every shape and size. We also at length ventured into several shopping districts inside of which were myriad stores, selling all sorts of fashion and gadgetry, countless restaurants and several gambling parlors – the Japanese, it seems, love their slot machines as much as the Hong Kong Chinese love their horse racing. Lest I forget, we frequented several video arcades to play the latest and greatest games; Paul played well, while I more often than not got 0wn3d. There is a lot to do in Japan.
Japanese culture, of which I’ve heard so much, really is distinct and separate from other Asian cultures. Their patterns of action and their peculiar artifacts certainly aren’t the same as those which feature prominently in Hong Kong. For one thing, the MTR culture was more civilized and less stressful: people queued up for trains and let passengers alight first before permitting themselves to board; cellphones never rang and cabin cars were as quiet as bedrooms at midnight; and to imagine all of these people enforce their norms without public service announcements, without any coddling, conspicuous signs – that’s amazing. What proved difficult was trying to find a garbage can. It was easier to find a vending machine, from which one could purchase a variety of drinks or cigarettes, than a bin in which to dispose of these delectable, perishable goods.
As for the general citizenry, they were most accommodating and hospitable, with several individuals going out of their way to help Paul and I find our way around the dense sprawl of the city. Language wasn’t a concern despite our limited Japanese; amazingly enough, our comfort was their concern! I won’t forget their selfless service, as one day, I hope, I’ll be able to return the favor. That the girls were quite attractive and that I demonstrated a propensity to ask attractive girls for directions go without saying; however, I understand now that their sexiness and sophistication stem not from comely faces but coherent attire. Rather than adorn themselves like a typical Mong Kok girl in a ridiculous neon rainbow palette, with jeans or unseemly spandex underneath dresses, skirts or other tops better left to stand alone, Japanese girls opt for more somber, sensible colors – black and cream-colored – and what’s more, they aren’t afraid to whip out the tasteful pantyhose or to show some skin, even. We had plenty of time to ogle the ladies, and to their credit, freezing temperatures weren’t enough to dissuade many of them from forsaking, icing their shorts, as we saw countless pairs being worn on the street. That’s what I call fashion professionalism!
Overall, Japan is a marvelous little land full of the eccentric, as well as the endearing. It was a fascinating place to explore, and I’m thankful that it was done in the company of my friend , with whom candor was not at a premium. We both learned a lot and look forward to the next trip!
Japanese Sink with Dryer
Image by Wootang01
With my friend Paul, I spend five days in Osaka, Japan. The trip provided much refreshment, and excitement, not to mention many challenges. It was my first visit to the country, and, I feel, it certainly won’t be my last, as there are still many places left to see, and so many new things to learn.
We had several destinations highlighted on our itinerary, the foremost of which was Universal Studios. We spend an entire day there, going on rides and more often than not, queuing for them. The excruciating wait times were worth it, however, for such exhilarating fun, especially on the Hollywood Roller Coaster, my personal favorite. The next morning we followed up that successful endeavor with a trip to the Himeji Castle, a place which came highly recommended by my colleague, whose succinct description of the heritage site was, "awesome." Indeed, as a history buff, I enjoyed walking the storied grounds and climbing through the maze-like interior of the keep which was designed not so much to comfortably house the royal family as to confound the invading enemy. The castle is a must-visit. Other attractions of note include the Osaka Aquarium, and the Tennoji Zoo; both teemed with animals of every shape and size. We also at length ventured into several shopping districts inside of which were myriad stores, selling all sorts of fashion and gadgetry, countless restaurants and several gambling parlors – the Japanese, it seems, love their slot machines as much as the Hong Kong Chinese love their horse racing. Lest I forget, we frequented several video arcades to play the latest and greatest games; Paul played well, while I more often than not got 0wn3d. There is a lot to do in Japan.
Japanese culture, of which I’ve heard so much, really is distinct and separate from other Asian cultures. Their patterns of action and their peculiar artifacts certainly aren’t the same as those which feature prominently in Hong Kong. For one thing, the MTR culture was more civilized and less stressful: people queued up for trains and let passengers alight first before permitting themselves to board; cellphones never rang and cabin cars were as quiet as bedrooms at midnight; and to imagine all of these people enforce their norms without public service announcements, without any coddling, conspicuous signs – that’s amazing. What proved difficult was trying to find a garbage can. It was easier to find a vending machine, from which one could purchase a variety of drinks or cigarettes, than a bin in which to dispose of these delectable, perishable goods.
As for the general citizenry, they were most accommodating and hospitable, with several individuals going out of their way to help Paul and I find our way around the dense sprawl of the city. Language wasn’t a concern despite our limited Japanese; amazingly enough, our comfort was their concern! I won’t forget their selfless service, as one day, I hope, I’ll be able to return the favor. That the girls were quite attractive and that I demonstrated a propensity to ask attractive girls for directions go without saying; however, I understand now that their sexiness and sophistication stem not from comely faces but coherent attire. Rather than adorn themselves like a typical Mong Kok girl in a ridiculous neon rainbow palette, with jeans or unseemly spandex underneath dresses, skirts or other tops better left to stand alone, Japanese girls opt for more somber, sensible colors – black and cream-colored – and what’s more, they aren’t afraid to whip out the tasteful pantyhose or to show some skin, even. We had plenty of time to ogle the ladies, and to their credit, freezing temperatures weren’t enough to dissuade many of them from forsaking, icing their shorts, as we saw countless pairs being worn on the street. That’s what I call fashion professionalism!
Overall, Japan is a marvelous little land full of the eccentric, as well as the endearing. It was a fascinating place to explore, and I’m thankful that it was done in the company of my friend , with whom candor was not at a premium. We both learned a lot and look forward to the next trip!
A Bear on My Head
Image by Wootang01
With my friend Paul, I spend five days in Osaka, Japan. The trip provided much refreshment, and excitement, not to mention many challenges. It was my first visit to the country, and, I feel, it certainly won’t be my last, as there are still many places left to see, and so many new things to learn.
We had several destinations highlighted on our itinerary, the foremost of which was Universal Studios. We spend an entire day there, going on rides and more often than not, queuing for them. The excruciating wait times were worth it, however, for such exhilarating fun, especially on the Hollywood Roller Coaster, my personal favorite. The next morning we followed up that successful endeavor with a trip to the Himeji Castle, a place which came highly recommended by my colleague, whose succinct description of the heritage site was, "awesome." Indeed, as a history buff, I enjoyed walking the storied grounds and climbing through the maze-like interior of the keep which was designed not so much to comfortably house the royal family as to confound the invading enemy. The castle is a must-visit. Other attractions of note include the Osaka Aquarium, and the Tennoji Zoo; both teemed with animals of every shape and size. We also at length ventured into several shopping districts inside of which were myriad stores, selling all sorts of fashion and gadgetry, countless restaurants and several gambling parlors – the Japanese, it seems, love their slot machines as much as the Hong Kong Chinese love their horse racing. Lest I forget, we frequented several video arcades to play the latest and greatest games; Paul played well, while I more often than not got 0wn3d. There is a lot to do in Japan.
Japanese culture, of which I’ve heard so much, really is distinct and separate from other Asian cultures. Their patterns of action and their peculiar artifacts certainly aren’t the same as those which feature prominently in Hong Kong. For one thing, the MTR culture was more civilized and less stressful: people queued up for trains and let passengers alight first before permitting themselves to board; cellphones never rang and cabin cars were as quiet as bedrooms at midnight; and to imagine all of these people enforce their norms without public service announcements, without any coddling, conspicuous signs – that’s amazing. What proved difficult was trying to find a garbage can. It was easier to find a vending machine, from which one could purchase a variety of drinks or cigarettes, than a bin in which to dispose of these delectable, perishable goods.
As for the general citizenry, they were most accommodating and hospitable, with several individuals going out of their way to help Paul and I find our way around the dense sprawl of the city. Language wasn’t a concern despite our limited Japanese; amazingly enough, our comfort was their concern! I won’t forget their selfless service, as one day, I hope, I’ll be able to return the favor. That the girls were quite attractive and that I demonstrated a propensity to ask attractive girls for directions go without saying; however, I understand now that their sexiness and sophistication stem not from comely faces but coherent attire. Rather than adorn themselves like a typical Mong Kok girl in a ridiculous neon rainbow palette, with jeans or unseemly spandex underneath dresses, skirts or other tops better left to stand alone, Japanese girls opt for more somber, sensible colors – black and cream-colored – and what’s more, they aren’t afraid to whip out the tasteful pantyhose or to show some skin, even. We had plenty of time to ogle the ladies, and to their credit, freezing temperatures weren’t enough to dissuade many of them from forsaking, icing their shorts, as we saw countless pairs being worn on the street. That’s what I call fashion professionalism!
Overall, Japan is a marvelous little land full of the eccentric, as well as the endearing. It was a fascinating place to explore, and I’m thankful that it was done in the company of my friend , with whom candor was not at a premium. We both learned a lot and look forward to the next trip!
Tags:Games, girls, Nice, photos
Cool Car Girls images today
Some cool car girls images today:
Manila Autoworld 2007
Image by maxiadrian photography
Guess the model’s name: L _ _
Manila Autoworld 2007
Image by maxiadrian photography
Manila Autoworld 2007
Image by maxiadrian photography
Guess the model’s name: J _ _ n _ _
Tags:Cool, girls, images, today
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Nice Car Girls Wallpaper photos
Some cool car girls wallpaper images today:
IAA 2011 Models (36b)
Image by Georg Schwalbach (GS1311)
Model / Hostess at 2011 Frankfurt Motor Show.
Model / Hostess auf der IAA in Frankfurt 2011.
IAA 2011 Model (47)
Image by Georg Schwalbach (GS1311)
She looks bugged.
Sie sieht genervt aus.
- – -
Model / Hostess at 2011 Frankfurt Motor Show.
Model / Hostess auf der IAA in Frankfurt 2011.
Tags:girls, Nice, photos, wallpaper
Nice Car With Girl photos today
Some cool car with girl images today:
All the redemption I can offer, girl, is beneath this dirty hood
Image by harrymoon
"Waste your summer praying in vain
For a saviour to rise from these streets
Well now I’m no hero, that’s understood
All the redemption I can offer, girl, is beneath this dirty hood
With a chance to make it good somehow
Hey what else can we do now?"
"Well I got this guitar and I learned how to make it talk
And my car’s out back if you’re ready to take that long walk
From your front porch to my front seat
The door’s open but the ride it ain’t free
And I know you’re lonely and there’s words that I ain’t spoken
But tonight we’ll be free, all the promises’ll be broken
There were ghosts in the eyes of all the boys you sent away"
well I had fun this night for sure, night photography is great because drunk people ask if you are taking photos of ghosts haha
Tags:girl, Nice, photos, today
Nice Hot Cars photos
A few nice hot cars images I found:
Fancy, skull
Image by rustman
Billetproof 2008
2008.09.20
Antioch Fairgrounds, California
Gold Vicky
Image by rustman
Billetproof 2008
2008.09.20
Antioch Fairgrounds, California
Hoodo, cigar
Image by rustman
Billetproof 2008
2008.09.20
Antioch Fairgrounds, California
Tags:Cars, Nice, photos
Nice Car For Girls photos
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Cool Car And Girl images today
Check out these car and girl images today:
Salon 2011 Miss 27
Image by stef_dit_patoc
Dauphine Miss Belgique 2011
Please don’t use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission. © 2011 "Patoc" . All rights reserved.
Cette photo est mise à disposition sous un contrat Creative Commons
Salon 2011 Miss 26
Image by stef_dit_patoc
Dauphine Miss Belgique 2011
Please don’t use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission. © 2011 "Patoc" . All rights reserved.
Cette photo est mise à disposition sous un contrat Creative Commons
Tags:Cool, girl, images, today
Nice Custom Cars Girls photos today
Check out these custom cars girls images today:
IMG_3188
Image by Matthew Kenwrick
GT40
Image by Matthew Kenwrick
IMG_3348
Image by Matthew Kenwrick
Tags:Cars, Custom, girls, Nice, photos, today
Nice Car Games Girls photos
Some cool car games girls images today:
bettygajjacstx.jpg
Image by toughkidcst
buildblarecst.jpg
Image by toughkidcst
hrallymsxcstx0.jpg
Image by toughkidcst
Tags:Games, girls, Nice, photos
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Nice Hot Race Car Girls photos
Nice Car Girl Models photos today
A few nice car girl models images I found:
Fiat 500
Image by lincolnblues
A model stands by the new Fiat 500.
Tags:girl, models, Nice, photos, today
Cool Car Games For Girls images today
Check out these car games for girls images today:
110 Yen
Image by Wootang01
With my friend Paul, I spend five days in Osaka, Japan. The trip provided much refreshment, and excitement, not to mention many challenges. It was my first visit to the country, and, I feel, it certainly won’t be my last, as there are still many places left to see, and so many new things to learn.
We had several destinations highlighted on our itinerary, the foremost of which was Universal Studios. We spend an entire day there, going on rides and more often than not, queuing for them. The excruciating wait times were worth it, however, for such exhilarating fun, especially on the Hollywood Roller Coaster, my personal favorite. The next morning we followed up that successful endeavor with a trip to the Himeji Castle, a place which came highly recommended by my colleague, whose succinct description of the heritage site was, "awesome." Indeed, as a history buff, I enjoyed walking the storied grounds and climbing through the maze-like interior of the keep which was designed not so much to comfortably house the royal family as to confound the invading enemy. The castle is a must-visit. Other attractions of note include the Osaka Aquarium, and the Tennoji Zoo; both teemed with animals of every shape and size. We also at length ventured into several shopping districts inside of which were myriad stores, selling all sorts of fashion and gadgetry, countless restaurants and several gambling parlors – the Japanese, it seems, love their slot machines as much as the Hong Kong Chinese love their horse racing. Lest I forget, we frequented several video arcades to play the latest and greatest games; Paul played well, while I more often than not got 0wn3d. There is a lot to do in Japan.
Japanese culture, of which I’ve heard so much, really is distinct and separate from other Asian cultures. Their patterns of action and their peculiar artifacts certainly aren’t the same as those which feature prominently in Hong Kong. For one thing, the MTR culture was more civilized and less stressful: people queued up for trains and let passengers alight first before permitting themselves to board; cellphones never rang and cabin cars were as quiet as bedrooms at midnight; and to imagine all of these people enforce their norms without public service announcements, without any coddling, conspicuous signs – that’s amazing. What proved difficult was trying to find a garbage can. It was easier to find a vending machine, from which one could purchase a variety of drinks or cigarettes, than a bin in which to dispose of these delectable, perishable goods.
As for the general citizenry, they were most accommodating and hospitable, with several individuals going out of their way to help Paul and I find our way around the dense sprawl of the city. Language wasn’t a concern despite our limited Japanese; amazingly enough, our comfort was their concern! I won’t forget their selfless service, as one day, I hope, I’ll be able to return the favor. That the girls were quite attractive and that I demonstrated a propensity to ask attractive girls for directions go without saying; however, I understand now that their sexiness and sophistication stem not from comely faces but coherent attire. Rather than adorn themselves like a typical Mong Kok girl in a ridiculous neon rainbow palette, with jeans or unseemly spandex underneath dresses, skirts or other tops better left to stand alone, Japanese girls opt for more somber, sensible colors – black and cream-colored – and what’s more, they aren’t afraid to whip out the tasteful pantyhose or to show some skin, even. We had plenty of time to ogle the ladies, and to their credit, freezing temperatures weren’t enough to dissuade many of them from forsaking, icing their shorts, as we saw countless pairs being worn on the street. That’s what I call fashion professionalism!
Overall, Japan is a marvelous little land full of the eccentric, as well as the endearing. It was a fascinating place to explore, and I’m thankful that it was done in the company of my friend , with whom candor was not at a premium. We both learned a lot and look forward to the next trip!
Ray Swims By
Image by Wootang01
With my friend Paul, I spend five days in Osaka, Japan. The trip provided much refreshment, and excitement, not to mention many challenges. It was my first visit to the country, and, I feel, it certainly won’t be my last, as there are still many places left to see, and so many new things to learn.
We had several destinations highlighted on our itinerary, the foremost of which was Universal Studios. We spend an entire day there, going on rides and more often than not, queuing for them. The excruciating wait times were worth it, however, for such exhilarating fun, especially on the Hollywood Roller Coaster, my personal favorite. The next morning we followed up that successful endeavor with a trip to the Himeji Castle, a place which came highly recommended by my colleague, whose succinct description of the heritage site was, "awesome." Indeed, as a history buff, I enjoyed walking the storied grounds and climbing through the maze-like interior of the keep which was designed not so much to comfortably house the royal family as to confound the invading enemy. The castle is a must-visit. Other attractions of note include the Osaka Aquarium, and the Tennoji Zoo; both teemed with animals of every shape and size. We also at length ventured into several shopping districts inside of which were myriad stores, selling all sorts of fashion and gadgetry, countless restaurants and several gambling parlors – the Japanese, it seems, love their slot machines as much as the Hong Kong Chinese love their horse racing. Lest I forget, we frequented several video arcades to play the latest and greatest games; Paul played well, while I more often than not got 0wn3d. There is a lot to do in Japan.
Japanese culture, of which I’ve heard so much, really is distinct and separate from other Asian cultures. Their patterns of action and their peculiar artifacts certainly aren’t the same as those which feature prominently in Hong Kong. For one thing, the MTR culture was more civilized and less stressful: people queued up for trains and let passengers alight first before permitting themselves to board; cellphones never rang and cabin cars were as quiet as bedrooms at midnight; and to imagine all of these people enforce their norms without public service announcements, without any coddling, conspicuous signs – that’s amazing. What proved difficult was trying to find a garbage can. It was easier to find a vending machine, from which one could purchase a variety of drinks or cigarettes, than a bin in which to dispose of these delectable, perishable goods.
As for the general citizenry, they were most accommodating and hospitable, with several individuals going out of their way to help Paul and I find our way around the dense sprawl of the city. Language wasn’t a concern despite our limited Japanese; amazingly enough, our comfort was their concern! I won’t forget their selfless service, as one day, I hope, I’ll be able to return the favor. That the girls were quite attractive and that I demonstrated a propensity to ask attractive girls for directions go without saying; however, I understand now that their sexiness and sophistication stem not from comely faces but coherent attire. Rather than adorn themselves like a typical Mong Kok girl in a ridiculous neon rainbow palette, with jeans or unseemly spandex underneath dresses, skirts or other tops better left to stand alone, Japanese girls opt for more somber, sensible colors – black and cream-colored – and what’s more, they aren’t afraid to whip out the tasteful pantyhose or to show some skin, even. We had plenty of time to ogle the ladies, and to their credit, freezing temperatures weren’t enough to dissuade many of them from forsaking, icing their shorts, as we saw countless pairs being worn on the street. That’s what I call fashion professionalism!
Overall, Japan is a marvelous little land full of the eccentric, as well as the endearing. It was a fascinating place to explore, and I’m thankful that it was done in the company of my friend , with whom candor was not at a premium. We both learned a lot and look forward to the next trip!
Tags:Cool, Games, girls, images, today
Trax 2011
A few nice fast cars girls images I found:
Trax 2011
Image by Savage_photography
Trax 2011
Image by Savage_photography
Trax 2011
Image by Savage_photography
Tags:2011, Trax
Monday, September 23, 2013
Nice Car With Girls photos today
A few nice car with girls images I found:
Jazel Poses w/Girl
Image by Hikaru Kazushime
Jazel poses with a random lass who mentioned she was Japanese and wanted a picture by the car.
The full article lives here: www.runaroundkazu.com/2009/10/team-lovehate-and-itasha-at…
Pink Funny Girls
Image by Waechor
What surprise to see in the garden, near our car park, three beautiful ladies posing for a self-photoshoot. We spent a moment with her to take some portraits as well ^^
Models: Dana, Julie and a friend
[Photo taken during a flickr meeting at Brussels (Belgium) - March 25, 2007. All captures of the series].
highest postion in Explore = 162
Tags:girls, Nice, photos, today
