GSM Handsets
I got a headset from work, it includes a MIC, but the port is a telephone port..how do i make it work?
I got a mic from work..sort of looks like this
http://www.telephonemagic.com/images/chameleon/2001-headset-500h.jpg
The only thing is…the wire going down is an "telephone jack" port..that i can plug into my 56k modem. How do i get it to work like a regular microphone? Is there anyway i can cut the wire or something? Anyone got any ideas on how to make it functino like a mic…? at work we use it on our phones for takinhg calls…at a call center..but how do you make it work for a regular computer mic?
I got a headset from Big Lots. It plugs right in to all of our computers!
October 14th, 2009
Posted by admin in imaging center phone | 1 Comment »
Please help, Ipod and phone stolen!?
Hi
My brother was playing sport at the sport centre today and he left his bag in the changing rooms (with Ipod and phone in the bag)
He got back and they had both been stolen (around £350-400 gone!). He told the sports centre and left descriptions of the Ipod and phone with them and contact details.
Is there anything else he can do?
He saved up ages for this stuff.
This phone- http://i.expansys.com/i/b/b144801.jpg
This Ipod- http://images.appleinsider.com/ipod-06-1.gif
Thanks xxxx
he is on pay as you go
jattyjattj- thanks that is really helpful
If the phone was insured, he can easily get a new one, he will have to tell the police to get a report so he can give the ref number to the insurance company, but be warned, he cannot say it was unattended as it will be his fault so he wont be covered. If it is not insured, then im sorry he has lost out. As for the ipod, i dont think no one offers insurance on that so thats a goner. If you havent got phone insurance, and you have household insurance then you probably can get your money back for both phone and ipod. hope this helps. p.s. he has to tell his mobile network his phone was lost on so n so, so that they can bar the phone so no one can use it and get a replacement sim card. Remember to ask the mobile company to bar the phone
October 14th, 2009
Posted by admin in imaging center phone | 3 Comments »
Will someone please read this and review this story my friend wrote?
To Whom the Blame Falls
Not a thousand good deeds of charity and benevolence could atone for what she had done. She sank slowly onto a cheap couch and let her head fall to her hands. All the years she had remained reticent – all the angry, silent meetings – all the nights she had spent crying in hurt and frustration – and this was the result, the final end and culmination of a long and bitter battle. Everything she had held onto for the past seven years came crashing down, and a giant void assumed the place where her rancor had been. It was over. There was no one left to hate. None but herself. Quietly, she began to sob.
Unwillingly, her mind vaulted into a deep pit of memories, forcing things upon her she had tried so hard to forget: life as it had been before the boyfriend came to ruin everything, and all the dastardly things that happened afterward. Emotion swelled through her body, and she bit her lip, trying to ease the pain. How much easier it would be if she could just forget – banish these images from her mind. It did not matter if they were pleasant or not, for they taunted her with the single figure she cared for most, the single figure to whom she ever felt truly akin, the single figure who was now gone forever. Her mother.
She tried to focus, tried to clear her mind and form a rational plan of what would come next, but she could not. All she could think of was that she could not remember the last time she had shown her mother the slightest shred of affection. No, she had fondled her pride too closely for that, and now it was all that remained to her. Her mother was dead, and all the words she had waited to say lay like boulders in the pit of her stomach, churning about unpleasantly and tormenting her with their horrid shrieks.
Why had she been unable to speak? Why couldn’t she let go of this load which had burdened her these seven years? Why couldn’t she, even now, forgive her? Wounds, deep wounds, had festered within her for so long that she could not imagine what life was like without them. Her mother was dead, but still she could not forgive her, or herself, or him.
It all began with that bastard of a boyfriend. He had a name, but she never called him by it. He did not deserve the honor of a name – nay, for that would make him seem human, and she considered the dirt beneath her feet worthier than he. She referred to him simply as “the frickin’ boyfriend.” She hated him with a passion nothing in the world could eradicate, because he stole from her the only person who meant anything at all to her. She and her mother had been best friends practically since the day she was born, and her mother liked to joke that she created her own best friend. They had shared everything – and basked in the joy of more laughter and happy days in a year than most people were blessed with in a lifetime. She shared all her mother’s woes with a patience and understanding not in congruence with her age, and because of this had less of a childhood than was perhaps fitting. But she begrudged none of this, and was willing to sacrifice whatever was necessary in order to give proof of the love she felt with all her being. She was continually endeavoring to prove her great love, and she suffered for it, but with a smile, for she would not have traded this for all the riches in the world. She was happy and lucky and she had glowed with contentment.
And then he came and took it all away. She spat at the very mention of him. What had he done, after all, to earn this right and privilege? What right had he to descend upon her thus and snatch all she held dear – drain the color from her life? True, he could do for her mother what she herself could not – take her dancing and go to bars with her – but she could not understand the great importance in these things. Were they really so much better than spending the day hiking in the fresh cleanliness of the mountains, talking freely and basking in the affinity of their friendship? Perhaps it was the newness of it that made it so irresistible, but still she could not understand when it persisted. From where did this man gain inherent superiority over her, that made all her love in vain – that made her mother choose him over her? The words cut more deeply than any knife could have done: her mother chose him.
She had not reacted well to his presence, refusing to see him and withdrawing into herself. It was her way of quietly protesting this grave injustice, her way of hinting that she could not accept this oppressive force, this enemy. But her mother did not understand this silent plea, and she paid it no heed. By drawing away, she expected her mother to follow her, to value their friendship above all else as she herself did, thus showing that she cared for her more, and always would – that no outsider could take her place. She desired this to happen, willed it into existence, but it did not. Instead of bringing them closer together, it pushed them apart, and the being she tried so hard to regain slipped through her clenched fingers. Almost imperceptibly, the present became the past, and the past was gone forever – a thing swept downriver by a fast current – all she could do was grieve its passing.
She tried to move on, but acute memories snagged themselves like angry thistles in her brain. Even now, after so much time had passed, they cut like poisoned thorns, embedding themselves in her flesh and spreading their wrath through her bloodstream. Like the time her mother had snapped at her and told her to get some friends her own age. She wanted her out of the way now – spending time with her daughter was now only second-rate, and more like a chore, for she had to pay for the ice cream. Things were free when she went out with him.
Or the time she couldn’t sleep and accidently woke her mother up because she made a noise in the kitchen. The mother who would have once comforted a suffering girl no longer existed, and she cared only about her precious rest. Center stage appealed to her, and there was not room for anyone else; at least only at appropriate hours. The suffering of others ought only make itself known when it was convenient.
But what hurt most was the day her mother told her that she was ruining her life. She was ruining her life because she refused to meet the frickin’ boyfriend. That was the day she left home – the day she threw her belongings out of a window and moved in with her father. She planned to be gone a week, but her mother made it absolutely impossible for her to return. The chasm between them widened so far that they could no longer see one another clearly. All that remained was a dim memory. She became a stranger in the home of her childhood – the home she had loved so dearly and declared she would never leave. She had painted those walls and dug those flowerbeds, the hours she had toiled over them – they had belonged to her, been her undeniable property. Now they were as separated from her as the bottom of the ocean. She was left with nothing.
She considered suicide. It seemed quite reasonable and practical since life was not worth living anymore. The future was as cold and bleak as a hundred miserable winters strung in succession. There was no point to living, really. All the best had passed and it made no sense to eke out a shabby existence in the painful shadow of her climax. The idea enticed her forcefully, and thought of it pleased and comforted her late at night. Maybe when she was dead her mother would feel sorry about what she had done to her. Maybe then she would feel she had done wrongly.
But in the end she did not, probably because she was too cowardly to venture into such a great unknown. Instead she tried to forget – tried to drown and bury her memories under a deluge and load of movies and parties – bury them so deep that she would never recover them. But as surely as oil eludes water, they surfaced and reopened all the old wounds. Waves of grief and regret ambushed her without reason or provocation, and she learned painfully that a person does not “get over” these sorts of things. These sorts of things do not simply go away. They cling to you, like parasites, until they become part of you; and you have to live with them, because there is not a surgeon in the world who can remove them.
Nevertheless, she managed somehow. She made idle friends who never called or asked her how she was doing. Her relationships did not last – her few attempts proved to her that they were her Achilles’ heel, and so she abandoned all hope of salvation in that direction. She labeled herself a misanthrope and dealt with it. She was not happy anymore, but neither was she dreadfully unhappy, and the pain of that first separation rendered her capable of coping with the problems that presented themselves. There were always more problems. She solved them just quickly enough to keep her life bearable, and she trudged her way through life silently, uncomplainingly, telling herself it was her own fault for pushing the best person out of her life and leaving that damnable August day. She had brought it upon herself. Brutal honesty did little to comfort her.
And then the phone call came that changed her life once again. Her mother was dead. Gone were all her foolish fancies of ever kissing and making up – going back to the way things used to be – and gone was any last, lingering hope that things would be better. There was no chance for redemption. Every day she had forced herself to get up, clinging to the religious belief that it was all a dream and that she would soon wake from it and see her mother smiling down on her, ready with a batch of freshly made pancakes – the feel of her mother’s soft hands with their strong, almond-shaped nails. Those hands would never move again. She had waited seven years for them to beckon to her, she realized, been quietly waiting, pretending that she had forgotten and pretending that she did not care. In truth, it was the only thing that had ever mattered to her. She shuddered as a surge of latent grief burst from deep within her. She wiped the stream of tears pouring down her face and dunked her head in cold water. How had it come to this? How had two people been so utterly incapable of resolving their differences in seven years?
It had been a steady path leading towards destruction, and they had caused it all. It was her mother’s fault really, because she had chosen someone else. Things had been wonderful the way they were; it was she who set out to change it – went looking for something better. No, it was her own fault, because she had refused to accept – refused to share the being she loved most, and thinking she could prevent the inevitable. She had protested in fury, but who but herself had suffered most for it? But, it was his fault, surely, for it he had not come along none of this would have ever happened. None of it would have ever happened.
All alone, she wept.
thanks krista!
thanks HP Fanatic! you’re awesome!
The vocabulary is great. A wide variety of vocabulary words were chosen, but none were so hard that I had to go to the dictionary!
The story line has a purpose, it flows well, it connects.
Theres so much imagery in here, that I can sort of see what I’m reading, which is a big bonus for me. I don’t like when I’m reading, and I can’t see what’s going on around the characters.
So all in all, very will written.
October 10th, 2009
Posted by admin in imaging center phone | 4 Comments »
From 1-10 rate my story(real) happened to me?
First day in high school. I was so nervous, although people say I am good looking all around I was still afraid of what people might think.Later on in the day I was the center of attention as usual and I made a lot of new friends.
I was having a blast until i see the most beautiful girl in my grade. Guys surrounding her thriving for her attention. From that first glance I knew there was something I would like about her. I get up from where I was sitting, people looking at where I am heading. I make it to the girl, look at her and give her a warm smile.I ask, what’s your name gorgeous? She replies "Alexandra Bhersafi" your? Oliver Wong Kee You. Nice to meet you. Want to go for a walk? She replies "Sure"
As we walk away from the large crowd, guys and girls looking at us thinking, what just happened. We walk and talk about a lot of things but not personnel things because the trust wasn’t there yet not even in me. She was soo different, I usually dated girls that were fun and active and flirtatious but, she was something above that, she was shy but can have open conversations that with people that she felt comfortable around, she was so pretty but she had such a low self esteem, she was by far one of the most caring nicest girl there is.
We were really alike. I thought to myself, I am aiming for her.
In the following weeks we talked and talked and nothing seemed to change. It was always the same over again and I took this as a concern but, something in me did not allow me to stop talking to her.
February 13th 2003
The Valentine’s dance is here. I have my date and you guys should know who it is "Alexandra". People know us, as the tightest best friends there is in the school. Not only that people constantly saying we should go out but we say no. We know how to keep a secret though we are dealing.
The dance begins and me Olivier the b-boy and the guy who does 3 martial arts just loves to show off. I leave my date alone in the corner as I rip the dance floor. Something i didn’t know though she didn’t leave me she dances hip-hop and jazz looks like when she’s around me she ain’t shy. That really made me happy.
We danced a few slows. I get outside for some air, and I get a phone call. My best friend has just been gunned down. He was an amazing guy but was around a lot of bad influence. Memories poring into the core of my brain giving me images of everything good we’ve done. I start tearing for the first time in 5 years. Alexandra looks at me crying on the floor and she knows something is wrong because I told her I haven’t cried in 5 years she never knew why though.
She rushes to me, gets on her knees and holds me in her warm arms. I tell her what happened she is shocked. I also add it’s the 10th death i had in 5 years…. My dad’s death was by far the worst and she starts tearing too. She asks "Why didn’t you ever tell me this?" and "Why do you always seem so happy?"
I am so happy because of you. Your smile makes me smile and i didn’t want to tell you because i didn’t want to lose that smile if I did I’d be just as sad as i am now. She looks smiles with tears in her eyes. She says: " I have a confession to make" With that confession, I find out that she has deep problems too. Not involving death like mine but, her mom left her dad and her for another family. She was 9 when this happened she felt responsible for all that had happened. She cried everyday and at a young age she took huge responsibilities for her dad. He was a sinking ship but thanks to her he’s ok now with a much better wife.
We talked a bit after the moment of truth but, i forgot one last honest fact, I build the courage and say Lexy, I love you. I love you soo damn much. I want to be with you, I don’t know for how long. Could be a day, a week , a month , a year, forever even but baby would you just be my girl so we can hold hands and drift off into the unknown.
She stands up and pulls me up with her. She smiles and says YES and we kiss. My heart pounding so fast, butterflies in my stomach I was so happy.
We look at each other, and at that point, the FINAL point. I knew she was the one.
We run together back into the gym where the dance took place. Holding hands we request a song "Lost- Michel Buble". The D-j asks anything you want to say on the mic. I scream, everyone I love Alexandra Bhersafi and she is my baby and she always will be. We kiss and dance as everyone watches. Her friends have tears in their eyes my friends screaming Oli you the man!
That’s my story. We are now 2009 I am married to Alexandra and we are planning to have a good looking child who hopefully will go through the same thing we did.
She sure is my high school sweetheart 
No worries, i just randomly started writing this i don’t do this often.
What do you mean colorful though? And how can I spice it up?
You gave really good description. But maybe you could describe how the characters look like for example you could say how beautiful she is and since the kiss was very romantic and a very big part of the story, maybe you could describe it like..
‘She moved closer and reached out, her warm delicate fingers running through my face. Her beautiful golden eyes, her beautiful face everything about her was beautiful. She smiled and whispered ‘I love you too’. The words that felt so right, 3 words, eight letters quickly made me melt. She gently pulled closer. She closed her eyes, letting her lips press against mine.’
Your story was really GOOD. =) Plus, the plot line is good too and its really ROMANTIC!
October 10th, 2009
Posted by admin in imaging center phone | 6 Comments »
First Paragraph, would you be interested in reading this?
There’s a loud buzzer going off in the room, and my head is pounding. I’m not quite sure where I am as my eyes try to adjust to very bright lights peering in. A young nurse pulls back the heavy brown curtains in my room, and then I remember where I’m at. All these fears and thoughts start running through my head. I’m in Hell, otherwise known as The Polson Treatment Center, I’m in rehab. I sit up in my bed, as the overly friendly and cheerful nurse comes to my bedside, my long dark hair is matted to my face, I’m sure my mascara is smeared, I’m almost certain I look white as a ghost. And then comes the pain. "I need a bucket" I mumble. "What’s that you say sweetie?" The nurse says in her thick southern accent. " I need a bucket," I now shout "I’m going to throw up." Rubbing my back, as my head lays low, the nurse begins to speak. "That’s just the withdrawal, you’ll be ok in a few days, your body’s just getting used to not having the drugs in it." I look up, trying to make out this woman’s sweet face. "Where is the shower?" I ask quietly, I still have it in my head that I’m going to shower, get dressed, meet Cara for lunch, mimosas, and shopping. "Louise." The nurse says as she’s helping me out of my bed. "What?" I ask her puzzled. "My name is Louise, I’ll be your day nurse." she says as I’m ushered into a putrid lime green bathroom, the decor alone is going to make me more sick. The water from the shower hits my face, the warmth of it is comforting. I open my eyes, this is it I tell myself, for the first time, in a long time I’m really alone. I look down at my skin, my fake tan is washing away in the shower, some of my acrylic nails are missing, and I wonder how I let it all go away. I step out of the shower, grabbing the towel I look in the mirror at my five foot eight body, I see my bones protruding, my face so thin. I hardly recognize myself, and then comes the pain again, I lunge to the toilet, and as I sit there, on the cold floor, hugging the porcelain thrown, my life for the past two years flashes in front of me. My eyes closed, I see images of people, bright lights, loud music, Cara toasting me with a glass of Moet, me in my little Bebe dress, and then the drugs. As a flash of cocaine lying on a table, and me taking a hit off of it, I snap back into reality. flushing the toilet, I try and stand on my feet. I almost lose my balance, but I manage to stumble to the bed. I lay down and look around. No phone, no TV., no computer. Just a bed, a dresser, and a window. I pull the heavy blanket over my head and just wish it would all go away. It would be three days, before I start to feel some what normal, well normal meaning walking on my own, not running to the bathroom every twenty minutes to throw up, and no more night sweats.
http://www.myspace.com/confessionsofasocialclimb
ok so thank you to all of you for your opinions… technically its not the first paragraph, its bunched together because i wasnt sure how many "Characters" I was allowed to have on here. It is actually spaced out in the book format.
I am aware that it needs editing, right now im just in the process of writing.
and this is loosely based on my life and what has happend to me. The withrawls, as the person at the bottom stated. I do not want to say what shes withdrawling from/ her full situation. it will be revealed later on. you can go to my website, and read the first 7 chapters.
the book is called Confessions of a Social Climber.
http://www.myspace.com/confessionsofasocialclimb
dont stop writing edit in the end ok!!
it sounds interesting and something i would read
again lots of edeting but dont worry about that you can do that when you are done
good luck and wish you the best for this story:)
October 8th, 2009
Posted by admin in imaging center phone | 9 Comments »
First Paragraph, would you be interested in reading this?
There’s a loud buzzer going off in the room, and my head is pounding. I’m not quite sure where I am as my eyes try to adjust to very bright lights peering in. A young nurse pulls back the heavy brown curtains in my room, and then I remember where I’m at. All these fears and thoughts start running through my head. I’m in Hell, otherwise known as The Polson Treatment Center, I’m in rehab. I sit up in my bed, as the overly friendly and cheerful nurse comes to my bedside, my long dark hair is matted to my face, I’m sure my mascara is smeared, I’m almost certain I look white as a ghost. And then comes the pain. "I need a bucket" I mumble. "What’s that you say sweetie?" The nurse says in her thick southern accent. " I need a bucket," I now shout "I’m going to throw up." Rubbing my back, as my head lays low, the nurse begins to speak. "That’s just the withdrawal, you’ll be ok in a few days, your body’s just getting used to not having the drugs in it." I look up, trying to make out this woman’s sweet face. "Where is the shower?" I ask quietly, I still have it in my head that I’m going to shower, get dressed, meet Cara for lunch, mimosas, and shopping. "Louise." The nurse says as she’s helping me out of my bed. "What?" I ask her puzzled. "My name is Louise, I’ll be your day nurse." she says as I’m ushered into a putrid lime green bathroom, the decor alone is going to make me more sick. The water from the shower hits my face, the warmth of it is comforting. I open my eyes, this is it I tell myself, for the first time, in a long time I’m really alone. I look down at my skin, my fake tan is washing away in the shower, some of my acrylic nails are missing, and I wonder how I let it all go away. I step out of the shower, grabbing the towel I look in the mirror at my five foot eight body, I see my bones protruding, my face so thin. I hardly recognize myself, and then comes the pain again, I lunge to the toilet, and as I sit there, on the cold floor, hugging the porcelain thrown, my life for the past two years flashes in front of me. My eyes closed, I see images of people, bright lights, loud music, Cara toasting me with a glass of Moet, me in my little Bebe dress, and then the drugs. As a flash of cocaine lying on a table, and me taking a hit off of it, I snap back into reality. flushing the toilet, I try and stand on my feet. I almost lose my balance, but I manage to stumble to the bed. I lay down and look around. No phone, no TV., no computer. Just a bed, a dresser, and a window. I pull the heavy blanket over my head and just wish it would all go away. It would be three days, before I start to feel some what normal, well normal meaning walking on my own, not running to the bathroom every twenty minutes to throw up, and no more night sweats.
http://www.myspace.com/confessionsofasocialclimb
ok so thank you to all of you for your opinions… technically its not the first paragraph, its bunched together because i wasnt sure how many "Characters" I was allowed to have on here. It is actually spaced out in the book format.
I am aware that it needs editing, right now im just in the process of writing.
and this is loosely based on my life and what has happend to me. The withrawls, as the person at the bottom stated. I do not want to say what shes withdrawling from/ her full situation. it will be revealed later on. you can go to my website, and read the first 7 chapters.
the book is called Confessions of a Social Climber.
http://www.myspace.com/confessionsofasocialclimb
dont stop writing edit in the end ok!!
it sounds interesting and something i would read
again lots of edeting but dont worry about that you can do that when you are done
good luck and wish you the best for this story:)
October 8th, 2009
Posted by admin in imaging center phone | 9 Comments »
Is this Romantic?Should I this?
Here is the story of me and my high school sweet heart
What I want to do is read this to her before we go to sleep.
I want her to know i remember everything and that I love her soo much. Please read the story.
First day in high school. I was so nervous, although people say I am good looking all around I was still afraid of what people might think.Later on in the day I was the center of attention as usual and I made a lot of new friends.
I was having a blast until i see the most beautiful girl in my grade. Guys surrounding her thriving for her attention. From that first glance I knew there was something I would like about her. I get up from where I was sitting, people looking at where I am heading. I make it to the girl, look at her and give her a warm smile. I ask, what’s your name gorgeous? She replies "Christina Woodmen" your? Oliver Wong Kee You. Nice to meet you. Want to go for a walk? She replies "Sure"
As we walk away from the large crowd, guys and girls looking at us thinking, what just happened. We walk and talk about a lot of things but not personnel things because the trust wasn’t there yet not even in me. She was so different, I usually dated girls that were fun and active and flirtatious but, she was something above that, she was shy but can have open conversations that with people that she felt comfortable around, she was so pretty but she had such a low self esteem, she was by far one of the most caring nicest girl there is and she knew how to dance and fight.
We were really alike. I thought to myself, I am aiming for her.
In the following weeks we talked and talked and nothing seemed to change. It was always the same over again and I took this as a concern but, something in me did not allow me to stop talking to her.
February 13th 2003
The Valentine’s dance is here. I have my date and you guys should know who it is "Christina". People know us, as the tightest best friends there is in the school. Not only that people constantly saying we should go out but we say no. We know how to keep a secret though we are dealing.
The dance begins and me Olivier the b-boy and the guy who does 3 martial arts just loves to show off. I leave my date alone in the corner as I rip the dance floor. Something i didn’t know though she didn’t leave me she’s popping looks like when she’s around me she isn’t shy. That really made me happy.
We danced a few slows. I get outside for some air, and I get a phone call. My best friend has just been gunned down. He was an amazing guy but was around a lot of bad influence. Memories poring into the core of my brain giving me images of everything good we’ve done. I start tearing for the first time in 5 years. Christina looks at me crying on the floor and she knows something is wrong because I told her I haven’t cried in 5 years she never knew why though.
She rushes to me, gets on her knees and holds me in her warm arms. I tell her what happened she is shocked. I also add it’s the 10th death i had in 5 years…. My dad’s death was by far the worst and she starts tearing too. She asks "Why didn’t you ever tell me this?" and "Why do you always seem so happy?"
I am so happy because of you. Your smile makes me smile and i didn’t want to tell you because i didn’t want to lose that smile if I did I’d be just as sad as i am now. She looks smiles with tears in her eyes. She says: “I have a confession to make" With that confession, I find out that she has deep problems too. Not involving death like mine but, her grand father beat her every single day. Her parents didn’t know and she was too afraid to tell anyone. The beating kept going until her dad found out and banished the grand- father a scar she must carry forever but I was there for her.
We talked a bit after the moment of truth but, I forgot one last honest fact, I build the courage and say Tina, I love you. I love you so damn much. I want to be with you, I don’t know for how long. Could be a day, a week, a month, a year, forever even but baby would you just be my girl so we can hold hands and drift off into the unknown.
She stands up and pulls me up with her. She smiles and says YES and we kiss. My heart pounding so fast, butterflies in my stomach I was so happy.
We look at each other, and at that point, the FINAL point. I knew she was the one.
We run together back into the gym where the dance took place. Holding hands we request a song "Lost- Michel Buble". The D-j asks anything you want to say on the microphone. I scream, everyone I love Christina Woodmen and she is my baby and she always will be. We kiss and dance as everyone watches. Her friends have tears in their eyes my friends screaming Oli you the man!
That’s my story. We are now 2009 I am married to Christina and we are planning to have a good looking child who hopefully will go through the same thing we did.
OMG THAT IS THE MOST ROMANTIC THING I HAVE EVER SEEN!!!!!AWW I HAV LIKE TEARS IN MY EYES!!! HECK YA U SHULD READ THIS TO HER….OMG HOW CUTE!!! THATS LIKE STORYBOOK CUTE!!!! AWW HOW LUCKY R U!!!! AWW I SO HOPE YALL HAV THE HEALTHIEST CUTEST MOST FUN LIL BABY EVER!!!!!! oh btw my name is christina too….lol makes me proud to hav this name….lol so in short ya u should read this to her….lol
October 6th, 2009
Posted by admin in imaging center phone | 15 Comments »
Is this a good book outline?
Before I asked a question about my idea for a book: http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=AjJzndBKG0q5v1BUlgaO82zsy6IX;_ylv=3?qid=20090504190105AAih2YS and now I’ve written an outline with more details and action, based on the answers I got the first time.
Kinnard C. Wright
The Iron Gang
Introduction: An insecure teenager befriends a group of young thugs and becomes one. Will he have to courage to turn his life around once he is confronted with similar problems as them?
Purpose: To explore the differences between middle class and poverty-stricken Black America.
I. Playin’ Around: The protagonist, Quay is introduced. He is a nerdy highschooler who enjoys gangsta rap and has always wanted to live the lifestyle portrayed in the songs.
II. Hooky: Quay and his brother skip school to go to where their father always warned them never to step foot. While Quay’s brother is not impressed, Quay sees this area as an opportunity to live the lifestyle he has always dreamed about.
III. The Trap: Quay and his brother meet Roc, Limpleg, and Carlos. Quay is able to fool them into thinking he is one of them by speaking with ebonics, smoking cigarettes and sagging his pants.
IV. No Way Out: The antagonists, Phil and Jason are introduced. The first time Phil meets Quay he recognises him as an outsider and tests him to see if he will fight. Quay is intimidated and backs down.
V. Hustlin’: Angel is introduced. Angel is an insecure, dimwitted young lesbian with an extreme psychological addiction to marijuana.
VI. Phatty Back: Quay loses his virginity to Angel’s promiscuous girlfriend, Kiara. She warns him not to tell Angel but Quay cannot help but brag to Roc, Limpleg, and Carlos about his affair.
VII. No Pretzels 4U: Quay first shoplifts and shares his spoils with the rest of the crew by having a cookout.
VIII. Rockin’ Like Nuthin’: Angel’s brother, Kwan is introduced. Kwan is an ingenious, psychopathic older youth with a love for the rapper Scarface. The first time he meets Quay he thinks his is an undercover police.
IX. Smokes: Quay has his first taste of marijuana. He enjoys his first experience of getting high with his first true friends.
X. Sunoco: Quay learns how to panhandle at the gas station.
XI. Finger Food: Quay is caught shoplifting and is banned from the grocery store.
XII. Feds: Angel finds out that Quay had sex with her girlfriend and instigates a fight between him and Phil. Phil demolishes him.
XIII. Caught: Quay is finally kicked out of his house and is forced to beg and steal to live. He starts to live in a house with Angel.
XIV. Upper Marlboro: Angel is arrested for shoplifting and taken to Prince George’s country Correctional Center. Kwan leaves her to fend for herself in the jail.
XV. The White Girl: Angel meets her new girlfriend from the phone chatline. Angel had been telling the girl, Hannah, that she was a male while Hannah kept from her the fact that she is White.
XVI. Miss Goldie Gets in Her Feelings: Angel’s mentor, Miss Goldie is angered by Kwan’s neglect of Angel and harsh words and spreads the word around that he is homosexual.
XVII. Positive Ass Nigga: Quay insults Angel and again is confronted by Phil and Jason. This time Quay somehow manages to best the two with the help of Kwan.
XVIII. Goin’ Through the Motions: Quay works in another county and distances himself from the crew. He still goes to see them on weekends as he has no one else to hang out with.
XIX. The Birthday: Quay has a disassociative episode after smoking marijuana and attempts to rape a young woman who happens to be Jason’s cousin. Jason’s father presses charges against Quay.
XX. Left Niggas Slumped and Mommas Down in the Dumps: Quay is committed to a hospital mental health ward for after attempting to rape a young woman. There he meets another young man with a similar background who got in too deep in a criminal lifestyle and sees him as if a mirror image of himself.
XXI. Razor Sharp: Quay attempts suicide to deal with the reality of his new life. He is again brought back to the same mental health ward and stays even longer.
XXII. Get a Tampon: Quay’s family stick by his side and help him through his legal trouble.
XXIII. Movin’ On: Quay, sentenced to probation looks forward to attending college and searches for a new job.
So, Whats the moral? you can pretend to be White Trash. go around do illegal things, rape girls and get away with it because your family is rich.
Yeah sounds pretty realistic. Quay is his "street" name right? You have to write it right or its going to look like the inner city kids all they do is try and rape and fight each other. I am also not really buying the mental institution part. Rape won’t get you sent to the loony bin it will get you sent to jail.
October 6th, 2009
Posted by admin in imaging center phone | 3 Comments »
How much would I get for a desktop with the following specs?
HP Pavilion a1210n Desktop PC
Includes HP vs 17 Pavilion Monitor, HP a1210n Pavilion CPU, Keyboard, Wireless Mouse and a (FREE Printer [HP Deskjet 5440] a $100.00 value), Free webcam and Free Speakers
CONDITION: Grade A
Works exceptionally well.
Product Specification:
CPU and Memory:
* Processor Brand: AMD
* Processor Class: Athlon 64
* Processor Speed: 2.2 GHz
* Processor Number: 3500+
* Installed Memory: 512 MB
* Cache Size: 512 KB
* Memory Technology: DDR SDRAM
* Maximum Memory: 4 GB
* Number of Installed Processors: 1
* Maximum Number of Processors: 1
* System Chipset: ATI Radeon Xpress 200
Storage
* Included Drives: DVD±RW (+R DL)
* Hard Drive Capacity: 200 GB
* CD Read Speed: 40 X
* CD Write Speed: 40 X
* CD Rewrite Speed: 24 X
* DVD Read Speed: 16 X
* DVD Write Speed: 8x (DVD-R), 16x (DVD+R), 2.4x (DVD+R DL)
* Drive Controllers: Serial ATA
Monitor and Graphics:
* Media Center: Yes
* Video Integration: Integrated
* Video Memory Technology: Shared video memory (UMA)
* Display Type: None.
Communications and Networking:
* Modem Speed: 56 Kbps
* Network Support: Ethernet, Fast Ethernet Connectors
* Interface Provided: Parallel Port, VGA, Phone line, Ethernet Expansion
* Slot Types Provided: PCI, Processor, Memory, PCI Express x16
Software:
Operating System: Microsoft Windows XP Media Center Edition 2005
Included Software: Adobe Photoshop CS4, Microsoft Office 2003, InterVideo WinDVD 5, Microsoft Works 8.0, Quicken 2005 New User Edition, Microsoft Money 2005 Standard, Norton Internet Security 2005 (60 days subscription), InterMute SpySubtract Pro (60 day of live updates), Sonic DigitalMedia Plus, MSN Encarta Standard, Apple iTunes, Muvee autoProducer, Adobe Reader 7.0, HP Image Zone Plus
Dimensions and Weight
Weight: 24 lbs.
The people that would would be interested in using a computer that old, generally get the same thing as a hand me down from relatives or friends.
Also people are catching on to those printer cartridges which are very expensive to refill or replace. I got an old HP laser printer that someone was throwing out. It came with two cartridges good for over 30,000 sheets.
To keep it all in perspective, I just sold a computer on eBay that was a year or so old for $150.00. That’s with a new 500GB HD, NVidia 7300GT and 2GB DDR2 OCZ gaming RAM. Mind you that was the computer with nothing else.
People will really be looking for something that will run Windows 7 starting now. It’s really the best Windows so far. Your system would be slow for Vista or Windows 7 even if the graphics card had the proper shaders (which I doubt it does).
A student on a budget might pay up to $100.00 for your whole system, but I doubt if they’d pay shipping on top of that.
Once people figure out it’s cheap to build an Intel i5/i7 1156 based machine and DDR3 comes down a bit more in price, even the 775 based machines using DDR2 will be in the bargain bin.
Also the AMD Phenom IIs are so much better, no-one’s going to pay much for previous AMD machines.
October 4th, 2009
Posted by admin in imaging center phone | 4 Comments »
Do you find this piece disturbing? It’s a story that I wrote. It’s 800 words long.?
I started to feel sharp pains on the left side of my head. Rubbing it did not seem to help at all. There was a flash of red light. The image of the kitchen blurred and faded and I found myself in a big city, standing in the center of a street. My heart thumped rapidly after finding myself being surrounded by tall buildings. The cars around me were upside down and some of them above me protruded out of the tall buildings. Master was not around, I couldn’t sense his presence anywhere. The driver of the flipped over Caring Bears van did not move. Covered in blood, his pupils rolled into the inside of his open eyes. A group of strange people in front of me gave me creepy stares.
Why is everyone looking at me?, I thought. What’s going on? Where’s Master?
I fell on my knees, shaking violently. Tears ran down my eyes, grabbing my hair.
“Are you okay?” said a woman’s voice. “What’s wrong are you lost?”
A blonde-haired lady knelt in front of me. I breathed even harder, I became even more scared.
What does she want? I thought
“I want to help you” said the woman, “Are you lost?”
“Leave…me…alone,” I whispered.
“Come on, let me help you find your parents,”
“LEAVE ME ALONE!” I screamed.
With the slash of my arm, the woman flew backward, crashing into a window of one of the tall buildings. The large crowd scattered and ran around like a frightened group of ants, making their ear-splitting screams.
Make it stop, it’s too loud, I thought, covering my ears. “Stop it! Just stop it!
“STOP IT!” I SCREAMED, “TOO LOUD!”
Several cars floated and flew around at the direction of my arms. Some of them crashed into buildings and others either fell onto the screaming crowd or swept them away. Shards of window glass fell on the floor. The cars dropped into the crowd. The Shards floated, and with my powers I managed to break them apart into small sharp pieces.
“Kill…” I whispered, “Kill them all… I’ll kill them all… Master is watching… he is…”
I flung my arms forward and the small glass shards rained down upon the crowd. Drops of blood sprinkled and everyone fell onto the ground. No one got up, I didn’t hear a single heart beat, not one person breathed. I suddenly felt…happy. Silence broke into the area. I laughed watching the blood spatter all about and everyone falling down. Everyone was dead, killing never felt this great.
“Master…are you watching?” I whispered again. “I…killed them.”
Suddenly, the back of my foot became very painful, it felt like something bit me.
“Meow.”
Where did that sound come from?
* * *
The city faded away and I found myself lying on the cold white floor. My head ached and I felt a little bit dizzy. I got to feet and held on to something. Standing up became difficult. The kitchen was empty, but close by there was some chatter. The moment I got myself together, I went to the location of the chattering.
Solana was holding her cell phone, while Aiyana attempted to grab it from her.
“Stop it, Aiyana!” barked Solana. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Why are you doing this, mum?” yelled Aiyana, grabbing her mother’s arm. “Lily’s my friend.”
“Friend?” said Solana, pointing at me. “You call this psychotic FREAK, you friend? If you were old enough to know what was going on, you would know that she slaughtered nearly half the population of Grendel City four years ago! If I don’t call the police soon, we’ll be killed!”
“Grendel?” I said, walking closer.
“Stay back!” barked Solana. “Don’t you dare come any closer, you monster!”
I made a short gasp in horror, and my chest became very painful. It was the worst feeling that I have ever felt.
She called me a monster, I thought. Why? What did I do wrong?
“Solana…” I said, clutching my chest. “Why?”
“I finally remembered what happened four years ago. Now that you fell on the floor shouting, KILL KILL!!! Kill them all!! That girl on that paper was really you. Yes, I wrote the damn paper, one week later I moved here. This is why I moved here, to stay the hell away from you! A twisted killer.”
“But…You’ve been kind to me…” Heavy tears rushed down my face
“I can’t believe I allowed some wanted some sick and twisted killer in my house!” Solana raised her voice. “I offered you food and a place to stay, you made friends my daughter. I couldn’t recognize your face until now.”
“Stop it…” I whispered.
“From now on you stay away rom my daughter!
“Stop…” I said.
“Mum, please stop.” said Aiyana. “Cut her some slack, she probably doesn’t remember it all.”
12 minutes ago – 1 week left to answer.
Additional Details
11 minutes ago
aUTHOR’S NOTES: HELLO, THANK YOU FOR TAKING THE TIME TO READ THIS EXCERPT FROM THE STORY THAT I HAVE WRITTEN. WHEN I WROTE THIS SOMETHING DIDN’T FEEL RIGHT. I FELT LIKE IT WAS TOO WEIRD AND PEOPLE WILL LOOK AT ME THE WRONG WAY. PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF IT SOUNDS DISTURBING. AND LET ME KNOW THAT YOU ENJOYED IT.
10 minutes ago
ON THE SCALE OF ONE TO TEN PLEASE RATE HOW DISTURBING THIS IS.
9 minutes ago
JUST TO LET YOU KNOW, THIS IS THE MAIN CHARACTER TELLING THE STORY, SHE’S 12 YEARS OLD. SHE JUST HAD A FLASHBACK AND REMEMBERS HER SIX YEAR OLD SELF SOMEWHERE.
PLEASE READ THIS AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK.
6 out of ten, I feel. I guess I have been desensitised by computer games and TV.
October 2nd, 2009
Posted by admin in imaging center phone | 5 Comments »