tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25709912883657424552024-03-13T11:35:23.421-07:00Life and the WorldAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08768351086946739498noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2570991288365742455.post-53394383259196385522015-08-25T04:02:00.001-07:002015-08-25T04:23:00.825-07:00If I Start A Hipster-ish Food Blog I will call it Breaded Shrimp. The logo will be a black illustration of a mustache and a monocle.<br />
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I will post minimalist pictures of bowls with food in them. Mostly brown rice, soy sauce, and sriracha.(Not that I am entirely sure what sriracha even <i>is</i>)<br />
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I will include arbitrary pictures of empty sidewalks, red headphones(probably Beats), and a kitchen that is too good looking to be mine.<br />
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I will 'rediscover' things from the 2000's.<br />
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My recipes will seem healthy, but they really won't be, or maybe they will. It depends on whatever the trend is at the time of writing.<br />
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In my posts, I will seem thoughtful and down to earth. A next door kind of gal. I will mention real world problems such as missing my meditation hour because of (a fancy word that means diarrhea).<br />
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The writing will be really tiny and not quite black for some reason. The background will be white.<br />
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Eventually, I will run out of hip recipe ideas and start to plagiarize.<br />
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Obviously, I will be found out. Every one starts internet hating my blog.<br />
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I will have to delete my food blog from the internet because of all the abuse and the lawsuit. Also, for some reason, the death threats. I will get rid of all social media mentions of my blog.<br />
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Luckily, I will have used a fake online personality so my real life reputation is fine. Rosina Pratt, on the other hand, is dead.<br />
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But wait! What about that one Facebook post in my real name that got a whopping ten likes? I will delete it, but then I will realize, people have memories you know.<br />
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I will take Hypnotizing 101 and track these people down. Then I will make them forget.<br />
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Everything will be fine. I will start a fashion mixology blog. Or a beauty secrets/makeup tutorial blog.<br />
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LOL<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08768351086946739498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2570991288365742455.post-36732993576000682052015-06-29T07:14:00.003-07:002015-06-29T07:14:44.718-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08768351086946739498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2570991288365742455.post-9705864426029185182015-06-29T01:48:00.002-07:002015-06-29T01:48:41.671-07:00I Found This Quote Today"Where's your will to be weird?"<br />
-Jim Morrison<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08768351086946739498noreply@blogger.com0United States54.775345859364471 -91.757812529.253311359364471 -133.0664065 80.297380359364467 -50.4492185tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2570991288365742455.post-1270938106417891752015-06-22T07:36:00.001-07:002015-06-22T07:36:39.241-07:00Sorry I'm Late<b>I recently wrote a short story that I decided to share with you guys. Don't forget to comment if you have any feedback. Anyway, here it is.</b><br />
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Jenna closed her eyes and silently waited for her life to end. She had taken the inconspicuously gray pills half an hour ago, and so far nothing had happened. She unscrewed the tiny bottle and poured the remaining pills into her mouth. Now, all she had to do was wait. The end would come, soon enough.<br />
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The door banged shut,"I'm here! I'm here everyone!" Jenna cursed under her breath. This was not supposed to happen. Why had her roommate come home so early? Stupid woman. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Jenna willed the pills to hurry up and do their job.</div>
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Jenna had thought about leaving a suicide note, but then had decided not to. Now, she regretted her decision, but she still didn't feel bothered enough to get up from the filthy bathroom floor. It was too much hassle.</div>
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So she sat, halfway there, wherever 'there' was. Hoping dimly in the back of her mind that it wouldn't hurt. Also hoping that her roommate wouldn't open the door, or think to look for her.</div>
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Then Jenna wondered,"Should I feel ashamed?" She knew her death might cause some pain. Ruin her roommate's (she was also her best friend) life for a while. But she would get over it, just like anyone else who cared.</div>
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Honestly, Jenna couldn't wait to die. She just couldn't. It would be pretty great. Free at last and all that. She really couldn't. She just...</div>
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Jenna sat and waited some more. It occurred to her that death was taking a little long to arrive. She wondered why. There were no more pills in the bottle.</div>
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Eventually, Jenna realized that she wasn't dying. Reluctantly, she stood up. She brushed her teeth and rinsed out her mouth. Then she went to bed and fell asleep, feeling ever so slightly relieved.</div>
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***</div>
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"Jenna! Jenna! Time to wake up okay?... Jenna! JENNA?! Whassamatter sweetie? Oh God... oh God whassamatter?"</div>
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***</div>
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"911 what's your emergency?"</div>
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"She's dead. Oh God oh God she's dead."</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08768351086946739498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2570991288365742455.post-54003385019708099822015-06-04T22:59:00.000-07:002015-06-04T22:59:15.685-07:00Whipped Cream Eating whipped cream is strange. It seems like a good idea at first. It's cream, and it's whipped, what more could you POSSIBLY want? So you take a tentative lick, or maybe scoop a little bit up with your finger. It tastes pretty great too, even if it does leave a weird after taste in your mouth.<br />
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So you scoop up some more, and some more, and you start to feel like maybe you should stop. You're getting that weird fed up feeling that happens when you eat something that's either too buttery or too sugary. Yet you tell yourself that a little more won't hurt.<br />
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Eventually, you start to get a bit nauseous, and you realize that you should probably stop. Yet you're in too deep. Once you begin, you have to keep going . You realize this and plod on. Then you realize that you really do have to stop because you've just eaten five tablespoons worth of straight up whipped cream. So, making great effort, you stop.<br />
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And no matter how much lemon juice you squeeze into your mouth, that nauseous feeling won't go away.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08768351086946739498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2570991288365742455.post-80873951392524030982015-05-26T10:27:00.002-07:002015-05-26T10:27:26.841-07:00Getting Carried Away <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I pay attention. I really do. It's just that sometimes I get a little bored and...</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08768351086946739498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2570991288365742455.post-57046298764901280602015-05-23T09:45:00.001-07:002015-05-23T09:45:10.267-07:00If My Headache Could TalkMy Headache: I am going to make your life a living hell.<br />
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Me: Okay, whatevs.<br />
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My Headache: <i>turns up the pain </i>Don't ignore me!<br />
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Me: Stop! You're like sooo rude!<br />
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My Headache: La La La La I can't hear you.<br />
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Me: <i>reduced to begging </i>Please. PLEASE. STOP!!!<br />
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My Headache: Nope.<br />
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Me: You know I could just take a Tylenol...<br />
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My Headache: Too much over the counter medicine is bad for you.<br />
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Me: Yeah you're right...hmph!<br />
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<i>Time Passes</i><br />
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Me: <i>internally screaming in frustration and agony.</i><br />
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My Headache: LOLAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08768351086946739498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2570991288365742455.post-81772680483613129642015-05-20T10:44:00.001-07:002015-05-20T10:44:34.406-07:00I Just Killed Someone Face There are all sorts of resting faces. Some people have resting nice face, some people have resting sad face, some people have resting mean face... so on and so forth.I usually have resting average face, but sometimes I have resting 'I-just-killed-someone-face'.<div>
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I try to keep my face looking nice and polite, but it always reverts back. I could be thinking rainbows and unicorns, but my face is just like 'NO!' When I'm thinking,'I love donuts!!!', my face is thinking,'I am coming for you!' I'm pretty sure it's not good for my social life either, because I feel like no one wants to be friends with someone who may have just taken part in a homicidal venture. (Which I would never do)(Just saying)</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08768351086946739498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2570991288365742455.post-24054441094273832782015-05-19T03:23:00.003-07:002015-05-19T03:25:28.202-07:00Eating Chocolate Eating chocolate is an extremely time consuming and attention using task. Especially so when you spend an hour eating the whole box. Then you realize that you've just EATEN A WHOLE BOX OF CHOCOLATE! Then you spend another hour crying and guilt eating more chocolate. Okay, so maybe you just do the last part in your head, mostly because there is no more chocolate in the house.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08768351086946739498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2570991288365742455.post-58974705167077520142015-05-17T08:26:00.002-07:002015-05-17T08:26:55.267-07:00The Figurative Delete Button I'm a big fan of any sort of delete button. If you don't like what you've written as a blog post, you can get it out of your face in no time. Just press backspace. If you feel like your inbox is over cluttered with unread useless emails, just press that little g-mail trashcan icon. If you don't like a picture you've taken on your camera, just press erase.<br />
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It's an easy way of getting stuff out of your face fast. I have recently adopted the delete button for my everyday life. Since there is no actual delete button to press, there is more work involved, but it is definitely worth it. Anytime I feel like I have too much clutter and general trash, out comes the trash bag and in goes everything. This is actually a big change for me because I usually don't throw ANYTHING away. ANYTHING! I AM HORDE MONSTER!<br />
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Life always feels better when you have less random scraps of paper stuck to your clothes and weird doodles thrown away in your closet.<br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><i>note: If anyone has anything they would like to contribute to the blog, be it photo, art, or writing, please send to this email:<b> lifeandtheworld@gmail.com</b>. I do not guarantee that your work will appear, but I do promise that I will not use it for anything else. Thanks for bothering.</i></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08768351086946739498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2570991288365742455.post-56543777254099776652015-05-15T00:22:00.004-07:002015-05-15T00:34:58.782-07:00Watercolor Pencils<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I recently discovered watercolor pencils. This is the result.</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08768351086946739498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2570991288365742455.post-81090413505053723222015-05-14T06:09:00.000-07:002015-05-14T06:21:35.980-07:00The Problem With Baking<br />
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I love baking, because I love eating. This might make me sound kind of greedy, but the truth is the truth.<br />
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There is one problem.</div>
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Baking takes waaaaay too long. </div>
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First, you have to get out the ingredients. That alone takes awhile. Where is the flour. Is it in the kitchen cabinet? Which one? Is it this one? Is it that one? Then you repeat the process like 500 times, or at least until you find all your ingredients.</div>
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Then, you follow the recipe. Sounds easy enough...right? WRONG!!! You end up putting too much of this or too little of that. What happens to me is that I hesitate that I didn't put enough sugar in. Then I put in more and end up ruining the whole thing.</div>
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Finally, after a lot of blood and tears, it's time to put everything in the oven. You're almost there! That's when you realize you forgot to preheat the oven. So you preheat the oven and sit there, waiting and wondering... Is it too early to put them in? When you finally get up the nerve, you open the oven and slide everything in. Ovens are a necessary evil. They might burn you. They might kill you. Who knows? But you need your sugar high, so you live with it.</div>
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This is the hard part. You sit there nervously waiting, waiting, waiting. It is your mission in life to get this right! If you do this, everything else won't matter. Aaaaall your other failures... but never mind, I digress.</div>
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The time has come. You take the baked goods out of the oven, burning yourself like five times in the process. Then you let them cool. Then you take a bite. Then you eat the whole thing. And if you didn't mess up the whole thing, everything that happened previously is worth it. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08768351086946739498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2570991288365742455.post-79908455408020523152015-05-13T09:43:00.002-07:002015-05-15T23:35:08.630-07:00How I Run When we were doing athletics, we had to run for 7 minutes straight at the beginning of every PE lesson. No stopping. Not only was it physical, it was also psychological. Psychologically excruciating.<br />
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I always began the seven minutes thinking,"This is going to be the easiest thing ever. I am like, the fastest runner here. OK, maybe not the fastest, but... still. I<i> am</i> pretty good." <b>(total lie)</b></div>
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Then, because I started waaaay too fast, I would start to double over, thinking,"Omigod omigod, cramps, I <i>need</i> to stop" but the PE teacher would be watching so I would keep going. </div>
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But, because I am a generally positive person, I would always go,"I can do this! I can do this! I'm a winner! And even if I'm not<b>...</b> whatever, I CAN DO THIS."</div>
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Even though I could barely squeeze the air into my lungs, I would keep going.</div>
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Then I would feel better about myself and think," There's probably just like 2 seconds left. I am like tots amazing. I'VE RUN IT ALL!!!!"</div>
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That's when the PE teacher would say,<b>"Five more minutes everyone!"</b></div>
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And deep down inside, a part of me would shrivel up and die.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08768351086946739498noreply@blogger.com0