Chatbox in Friendster Blog Sidebar

A Friendster correspondent e mailed me weeks ago asking me how I put my Chatbox in my Friendster blog. I remember I also asked the same question to my Favorite ever blogger in the whole world, Gail. The only difference is that, just like a true friend, she answered me back immediately, while I kept my friend waiting for the answer.

To you, I am really sorry.

HOW TO: put a chatbox in your Friendster blog sidebar?

STEP 1: Go to your “Create blog”, then click “Typelist” on your Menu. (click images to enlarge)

STEP 2: Go to “Create New Typelist” box and choose “Links.” Then type an appropriate title for your Chatbox.

STEP 3: Click “Add this list to your blog” button. A box will appear asking you to save it, click “save changes.” Do not put any URL in the box.

STEP 4: Click “Add New Item” then paste the codes of your chatbox in the notes. You can post any codes in this Box, like puzzles, slideshows, or even miniature music videos. If you want to make your own blogroll, you can use the “Link Title” and “Link URL” boxes too.

STEP 5: However, your chatbox will still not appear in your blog, you have to go to your Typelist configure, beside “Manage” button, and click “As Text” then save.

A Letter to Someone

To whom it may concern,

While walking to school this morning, you must have remembered, I came across you jogging. I have seen you jogged along this street since you’ve recovered from your recent confinement in the Intensive Care Unit. I really do not care about your health or anything that has something to do with you, but what really caught my attention was the sudden smile that you gave me.

I was walking to catch the bus to school when I saw you running from the opposite end of the street. You were jogging, as what you’ve been doing for the past days, and you smiled at me. Seldom do I pause for anything on my way to school. If I sought to stop at every thing that is unusual that come and passes by I wouldn’t be able to catch the bus that will take me to school. But since your smile was indeed unexpected, I halted and looked down at my zippers.

Days ago, I met my Goddaughter’s mother. She stopped by our house to tell me her bizarre morning. She was walking to catch the tricycle to work when she met you. She was walking to work when you passed by jogging and you smiled at her. She knows very well how you despise her and she doesn’t really care since she hates twice. I asked her what she did and she said she just froze on the spot, unable to comprehend anything. She begged her husband afterward to explain him just what had happened. After some time of thinking, her husband concluded; she must’ve left her zipper open and you saw it and smiled. It isn’t impossible anyway, with your dirty deeds in the past who would not think so.

You were jogging this morning and I was walking to school. We glanced at each other and your grimy teeth showed, which made you look like an old toad looking at a juicy fly. I almost vomited on my uniform. I was mortified.

Yes, I clearly remember that day when you were rushed to the Emergency Room where I was about to have my internship. It was Wednesday afternoon, the day before my duty. I felt bad that I wasn’t there. However, I heard that you were later on transferred to the Intensive Care Unit of a private hospital. I didn’t hear much the name of the hospital but I was hoping that they’d sent you to the Hospital where I was going to attend my ICU duty.

Days passed until my two-week long stay in the Emergency Room fell from the calendar and I was moved to the Intensive Care Unit. I was already seeing it. How happy I was just thinking about it, oh, that would have been the happiest part of my college life. I have already planned it thoroughly. The vision of your demise as I looked at you lifeless body elated me so much. My hopes were high.

“Just 5 cc of air,” I whispered to my self. Just 5 cc of an empty syringe would be enough to steal away you life. The thought rushed into my mind as I was fascinated with the mirage of bubbles clearly passing through your IV tube from my syringe into your vein until they reach you vena cava, your heart and finally engulfing the alveoli of your lungs, forming an air embolus within it.

Just 5 cc of air into your bloodstream and you would have died of pulmonary embolism and no one would even suspect; death as a complication of the present illness.

To my dismay, you were transferred to a different hospital, not the one where I hoped you were confined. I sulked, finding only the solace whenever I meet your son in the bus that carries me to school and him to your nasty cell, haggard and losing weight. But I did not give up hoping that you’d die in that hospital, but as the proverb goes, “an obnoxious weed is hard to kill,” and so were you. You survived.

This morning as I saw you running from the opposite end of the street, as you fleetingly glanced at me and smirked, I almost found my self rushing to you and spitting at your face saying, “I’m going to have you murdered.”

With all regards,