Azkals and Smart - Gilas Pilipinas

May point si Kuya Anon9396 pero mukhang mas may point si Anon0746.

Mark Zuckerberg said in the movie Social Networking that "Fashion is never finished" and this statement reflects to the new design of Facebook, Facebook is never finished.

but, is this included?

what a mess...

Something is missing, Facebook

I don't know if i'm just the one who's experiencing this...

Web Dev Project: Snapshots

UPDATE:

Natapos ko nang gawin yung interface nya which is ALMOST similar to Flickr. Medyo weird nga lang kasi hindi ko maayos yung uploading problems nya kasi mapili yung script.

Eto nga pala yung latest screenshot nung homepage nung site:

BTW yung image (bokeh) eh hindi akin, nakita ko lang sa Internet at yan eh nagpapalit every 20 seconds using a jQuery.

More updates to come. :D

PS: Alam ko merong mas mgagaling sa akin na mag-program dyan kaya don’t criticize my work. thanks. :D

May nakakaalam ba kung ano ang name nung interpreter ni Ms. Angola?

 Balita ko kasi sya yung Miss Universe 2011...

Watch how Jon Jones gets the UFC Light Heavyweight belt from Shogun Rua

http://www.ufc.com/media/ufc-128-jones-rua

"The Names" by Billy Collins (b.1941), written in 2002.

Yesterday, I lay awake in the palm of the night.
A soft rain stole in, unhelped by any breeze,
And when I saw the silver glaze on the windows,
I started with A, with Ackerman, as it happened,
Then Baxter and Calabro,
Davis and Eberling, names falling into place
As droplets fell through the dark.

Names printed on the ceiling of the night.
Names slipping around a watery bend.
Twenty-six willows on the banks of a stream.

In the morning, I walked out barefoot
Among thousands of flowers
Heavy with dew like the eyes of tears,
And each had a name —

Fiori inscribed on a yellow petal
Then Gonzalez and Han, Ishikawa and Jenkins.
Names written in the air
And stitched into the cloth of the day.

A name under a photograph taped to a mailbox.
Monogram on a torn shirt,
I see you spelled out on storefront windows
And on the bright unfurled awnings of this city.
I say the syllables as I turn a corner —

Kelly and Lee,
Medina, Nardella, and O’Connor.
When I peer into the woods,
I see a thick tangle where letters are hidden
As in a puzzle concocted for children.

Parker and Quigley in the twigs of an ash,
Rizzo, Schubert, Torres, and Upton,
Secrets in the boughs of an ancient maple.
Names written in the pale sky.
Names rising in the updraft amid buildings.

Names silent in stone
Or cried out behind a door.
Names blown over the earth and out to sea.

In the evening — weakening light, the last swallows.
A boy on a lake lifts his oars.
A woman by a window puts a match to a candle,

And the names are outlined on the rose clouds —
Vanacore and Wallace,
(let X stand, if it can, for the ones unfound)

Then Young and Ziminsky, the final jolt of Z.
Names etched on the head of a pin.
One name spanning a bridge, another undergoing a tunnel.
A blue name needled into the skin.

Names of citizens, workers, mothers and fathers,
The bright-eyed daughter, the quick son.

Alphabet of names in a green field.
Names in the small tracks of birds.
Names lifted from a hat

Or balanced on the tip of the tongue.
Names wheeled into the dim warehouse of memory.
So many names, there is barely room on the walls of the heart.

-a poem to commemorate the victims of 9/11 Terrorist Attack Former New York governor George Pataki