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Cackles.From.A.Mad.Duck

'Who am I' she asks : A creative explosion of paradoxical remarks the student replied.

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food

Do What You Must, But Food Is Off-Limits

No, never. I shall never part with the sweet euphoria of food. It’s against the code of nature. The elixir of human life, excuse me –  quality life – water, yes, whatever.

This subject has been well articulated many times before, but to be confronted with it among people I care about. Something must be done.

Two of my girlfriends today was questioning whether or not they should stop eating, because one of them has home-stays who would rather starve to look pretty then get their, perhaps then-voluptuous and now-stupid, asses to work out. It’s hard to believe that this stuff still goes on. I mean, I thought it existed in some remote area like Hollywood, far far away from the Duck, and now it has flown to yawn at my front door.

To begin, my friends are nowhere near what I would call overweight, and maybe that doesn’t matter to them because I’m their friend, and we’re girls, and we’re bias and liars and suck ups. Fine. They’re average. Actually, one of them is slender to a point. And she is the precise one that brought up this bombardage.

One of the reasons I could think of off the top of my head as to why they would even bother with this sort of overdue idiocy, is that they’re Korean, and that their idolized K-pop stars are largely known to be not fit, but skinny. I make no exaggeration when I say I have made myself watch them through their performances on YouTube of what I gather is supposed to be the reenactment of the infamous sexy American business, but made the Duck shrivel up quietly inside and just assume a mask of utter, complete loss on her face. It was not sexy guys. I know I’m a female, but even in my wildly lewd imagination I cannot fathom the joy in trying to get it on with a noodle. A noodle-doll. Yes, a pale white, false lashed, contact lensed noodle-doll, that is what I see in my head. The only way they managed to pull off any sort of arousal was in being the innocent-sexy. To which an Asian man-boy in the audience flushed and covered his face with a large foam finger dedicated to that particular group. It was just a wink. Maybe cause their floppy bodies couldn’t exert any more physical energy for entertainment. Everything just seemed languid and slow, and to me it screamed no muscle tone whatsoever. 

Now, maybe I’m getting tough on those far away K-pop stars. Partially because, well I really just don’t like them, so I’m as bias as a mother bear, and that the talks of them planning to invade the international level of celebrity status, as in coming on over to my country, really makes me want to build those ground holes they reserve for war times and live out the rest of my sage years alone with my cat and my books.

You see this? Hips - And I'm smiling.
You see this? Hips – And I’m smiling.

On the other hand, I just wanted to reminisce back on some favorites of the classic world – like Tinkerbell.

I know she gets all fussy with her hips width in a few moments after this shot, but the point is that she was admiring herself. Her slim waist to be exact – which was only that possibly exaggerated and noticed through the phenomenon of her larger hips.

Personally, the Duck doesn’t have gargantuan hips, or sadly, the elusive dipping waist, so she cannot say she proclaims this for herself, but she has noticed that somewhere along the way, her hips width did widen and nowadays she had to look for a different number than all her previous years. At first, she was actually offended. Quite so. The fact that magically, those childbearing regimens decided to expand without her permission made her angry, and the fact that the Duck’s sister has remained dainty and slender despite her wolf appetite made her insecure. The regale family also has no qualms to point in your face and decide on the spot whether or not you’re curvy enough or past their standards. Then she remembered when the Duck’s cousin had developed those curves first, and how she had had no qualms to encourage her and tell her how womanly her profile looked.

I actually did mean it. Then I look at myself. What a hypocrite.

When at the end, one of them complimented on the home-stay’s loss of weight by drawing the line of her body curves in the air, the Duck said something that is even more hypocritical – Go work out, fluffbutts. 

I know, I wouldn’t take that advice if it came in a platter of muffins myself, but as a friend, as a human girl, you gotta do what you’ve gotta do.

The Day Before I Hatched…

Otherwise known as Mother’s Day.

Yes, that’s right, the Duck will be spreading all her rightful sovereignty over the blogosphere tomorrow – see she had wanted to be fancy with that word, but she probably didn’t even use that right. But what the hell, this day is for the mama’s, so I can afford to be an idiot for today. Just today. Like I’ve never done so before.

So remember how the Duck waddled around about how she never got to finishing up that CD she was going to belt out her beloved cackles last Christmas?

I did it.

But now it won’t play on a CD player because apparently all the softwares, virus, internet, computer junk simply did not cover the portion of codecs. I hadn’t even known what they were until 20 minutes ago. And I had almost downloaded a false file 15 minutes ago. The Duck was not meant for the 21st century.

It’s the thought that counts right? Yeah.

This year, I didn’t even bother writing an English translation on the other side of the card anymore. My mother’ll never get around to reading it. She took 10 minutes trying to decipher through the Chinese. Let’s not get too optimistic. It cramps my style. But if I may say so myself, for someone who’s never written a word of Chinese since last Christmas, the Duck’s penmanship is surprisingly remarkable. No bragging of course. Just remarking. The phenomena that never happened last Christmas when I was using that black pen..

Regardless, I am proud to not conform. While my sister praised my mother to be the best, as I believe you fellow quails would. Ha! – and I had actually eaten you all for dinner. Wrapped in bacon. –  I wrote to my mom , you like to party and you suck with sentimental issues. Sometimes I feel like you’re a child.

The rest of the 3 paragraphs be darned.

She did get me back though. On the other side of the card I put a baby picture of me, where even the mini me knew to flap her wings and pose before she attempts to fly off the side of the balcony in an airport. Instead of commenting remarking on how friggin unbelievably adorable baby Duckling was, she dared to ask me – next year, can you put a picture of Milo (my cat)?

I’m bruised. My ego has been crippled. It’s like shaving away from my bountiful plumage.

I swear next year I’ll put a picture of my baby cat alright. Have him soaking wet so that he’ll look like a rat. His fur will stick down, allowing us the sight to marvel at his, ahem, bountiness. Then he’ll be like a fat rat. And of course I knew all of this not from experience. Just pure imagination of the wild mind.

Now the Duck must retreat back to her duck pen to strangle the CD she created. Or she just has nothing to say for this because she’s way too excited to, ahem, remark about her birthday tomorrow. For now, she can afford to celebrate for being young. Ha, how devious was that? IMAG1464

You see that big ball of meat? You guys do taste good with bacon. So does salad.

Cooking For Dummies

You know those books you see in the library that supposedly teaches impossible lessons for Dummies; like you cannot simplify the creation of a computer or the fact that math hates everyone. Well, this isn’t one of those. Neither am I a cooking channel. This is a preview of your next generation.

The times that my mother have been gone there’s always a shortage of food in the fridge, one because I don’t cook, two because I don’t have a car to drive anywhere for take out or grocery, or alas, the Duck is just too damn lazy. Either way though, I hated it when adults came over and commented on how “I was running low.” So tonight, we I feast. 

Nothing fancy, but I do dare brag that this came from someone who dumped raw rice in a wok. And this.

Before.
Before.
After.
After.

 

Miraculous things happen.

The Duck is an evolved swan Ducklet now.

 

 

Chicken that you cannot see.
Chicken that you cannot see.
Look, look!  I'm a big gilr now !
Look, look! I’m a big girl now !
Who knew, orange juice actually went well with honey, garlic, ginger and pork chops
Who knew, orange juice actually went well with honey, garlic, ginger and pork chops.

 

 

 

 

 

Most important lesson: Dump excessive ingredient (peppers) into some new dish as if it was meant to be.
Most important lesson: Dump excessive ingredient (peppers) into some new dish as if it was meant to be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

But of course, after all of that, I forgot to eat dinner.

Oh, and I went thrifting for the first time.
Oh, and I went thrifting for the first time after getting jealous of my mom’s old outfits. Now that’s really something. 

Surely, You’re All Tickling My Nickle

Oh, what’s that word to say ‘it feels damning good‘ in a non-sarcastic humbling way.
None?
Okay. It feels damning good to be given the Liebster award; third time’s the charm !
I retain my bragrights™ in all forms. Now, whenever my mother brings me out and asks me the godforbidding crisis question – What are you doing with your life you crazy duck – well mother oh mine, you miniature swan, I’m winning fictional awards that forces encourages me to do good acts of sharing. I might even just follow the rules this time. Might. 

liebster2

I find it fun that each time there’s a new version of this award. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that they were totally evolving just for me.
What’s that? The frog in the well? The only piece of blue sky. No sir/m’am, I dwaddle in my much larger pond. My view is beyond the horizon.

Before I go on preening my fur and allowing you guys the perverse glimpses of what makes up the unruly Duck, I have to stick my head in the water and thanks fellow Peckish Kiwi for giving me this award. What you need to know? It’s about food. Half of you probably already went to hell on me – fatass. My bonus : He keeps me slick with greasy pride. Yes.. allow the preening..

To begin, all great artists must trudge through 10 feet of boring crap, then later tell you how heartily they bounced through that, before they reach the golden monkey. Well, I’m not an artist. Fact 1.The first painting I ever done without the urgency of a grade is mostly finished.. not because the brushes are completely done themselves. So.. Rules smules, it’s really just – 11:11+11(<200)→ !!!

Based on that, you already know what an amazing mathematician I am. That’s a fact. 2.

If you happen to catch on think that my devilish head is just a slight too big for my hat, you must know I’m impersonating Scarlett O’Hara because I think I could lap her beaux twice over. Granted Rhett Butler was 17 years older. Hmm. Tasty old men indeed. 3. [I’m not weird. Ish. Refer to my wet dreams]

In the case where I finished the entire book in the span of a day and a half, I must reward myself to be a futuristic-robotic-genius. 4.

Having also sacrificed in that heated period of living through 1860-1870’s, I suppressed my  overly try-hard bladder 5. for extended periods, which on several occasions has taunted me to bare the weight of trying to pee without noise as a guest. Of course, that’s when it acts up. And as I had reasoned, its overbearing nature has all that has to do with the tantrums of a high metabolism. 6.

Given that I am still the charming petite duckling, I happen to chew everything. Soup, ice cream and all. 7. Defying against the impossibilities of a flat beaker, hence I must say I am also somewhat of a trooper. 8. A nicer way to say stubborn as a bearded bull.

As I’ve recently returned from a trip from Seattle, I can safely tell you I did not spend more than $100. Or so. Clearly, the results of every man’s dream. 9. Oh bother, now I’ve got myself all wishywashy with gloat embarrassment. It’s going to take hell to be rid of my ever blushing cheeks. 10.

Alas, this is somewhat of a true embarrassment..much as I love the holiday spirit, my Christmas trees are still up and about. I’m torn between a secret wager against myself that they’ll last straight through to December and save me the the trouble, or smacking the next person who comments without worship upside the head. Pragmatic lazy. 11.

Not enough guys? Oh you spoil my ego so.

1. Tomato Sauce or Ketchup?
Make it saucy. 

2. Tortellini or Ravioli?
Food. Food. Food. 

3. Early bird or Night Owl?
If I could, I’d remain in a half deprived mode of early bird frenzy with the slackings of nocturnal starvation.

4. If you had a cow, what would you call it?
BETSY! No idea why.

5. If you were promised $10,000 a day for the rest of your life, but had to spend each lot of $10,000 in the day you received it (so no using finance or hire purchase), what would you spend your first $10,000 on?
Chocolate, food, clothes, spoils for my fat cat; As of the moment I’m a little terrified that I do not know how to rid myself of this money in a day. Tax doesn’t exist right?

6. Are you more likely to be ten minutes early or ten minutes late?
No..the duck is never late..not because its wings are made for looks and not for walking. Or flying.

7. What’s your favourite go to meal when you’re just cooking for yourself after a hard day of work when you are feeling lazy? Or if you don’t cook, what’s your favourite feed me now I’m hungry meal.
Home: Chocolate. Restaurant: some healthy stuff like cashew chicken with veggies that I really just couldn’t be bothered with if not for the masking sauce.

8. Do you dream in colour?
What’s this? Course, the duck sprays out rainbows.

9. What’s your favourite Eddie Murphy movie?
I’m going to apologize for having to Google that. I know the name. Much like I vaguely gauge the names of our current political parties.

10. Have you ever talked your way out of a speeding ticket?
No sir, I sprout broccolis and fly. 

11. What’s the best thing about this blogging gig for you?
Stomping around in my one-man masquerade. 

F.e.l.l.o.w .Q.u.a.c.k.e.r.s – Tonight, you may tell your overbearing parents that you were nominated by the Duck™

I’ll make this easy for you guys. I have one question, so answer it well; like I said, I just might follow the rules

– if someone were to travel into space and takes a regular clock ticking on earth’s time, since I don’t think it necessarily slows down visually, how would it regulate for the space traveler given that 1 year in space is equivalent to 10 years on earth (supposedly)…
As for the person themselves, if they happen to fall asleep for a few hours, wouldn’t that equate to them sleeping for several days since their bodies still run on earth time?..No bladder issues anyone?

Okay, that might have been two questions. Did I not say what a great mathematician I am? If you must, I concur my question is full of horsefeathers. Answer it anyway, cause you’re all full of goosefeathers and that’s what makes the world so great.

Say hello victims mes petits chouchoux. 

http://thebottomofabottle.wordpress.com/
http://fishofgold.net/
http://wholeyjeans.wordpress.com/
http://rarasaur.wordpress.com/
http://stuphblog.wordpress.com/
http://wordsandotherthings.wordpress.com/
http://earthfirstnews.wordpress.com/
http://dysfunctionalliteracy.com/
http://whatimeant2say.wordpress.com/
http://mrsdsmaunderings.wordpress.com/
http://jessicavealitzek.com/

To honor myself the rules, I hope that everyone here has less than 200 followers so I’m still following the rules. [Edit: Yeah. So to hell with it, foul play is my calling]  Ah, it feels good to be spiteful again.

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