Killing Doujinshi Dbz

Recipe: Chicken rolls with raisins

Hope you like it, and I apologize for not putting scans if no pictures, but I have no place here scan, as can the doctored up again and using a scanner.

Today: chicken rolls with raisins

Enjoy! (Click on images to bring you to flickr and view them larger)






For if you want to read it bigger or more comfortable here you have the gallery on flickr: http://www.flickr.com/photos/61126799 @ N02/sets/72157626615026852 /

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I have a power ... I notice in the hair [CENSORED] TAS

Surely many reconozcáis the input sentence of this post, which belongs to the series misfits, a series that got hooked by something very simple, fun and original.
And do not worry I will not do spoiler.



is because apart from super elaborate frames, misfits me it is fun to watch, brings a smile to me the absurdity of the original sitiacion and their way of treating a subject so hackneyed (and especially for someone like me, avid comic reader) such as the super hero theme, thereby hands of juveniles responsible for some of the most colorful super powers, which apparently has to do with their deepest desires or his own subconscious.


- being told to him and his power fully ALONE FOREVER

Here the powers are used for good or for evil, but are in that line of dark gray and selfish, let's face it, how many are enfundarían tights largarían flying and fighting crime if you discover you have powers?

But of course the thing does not stop there, because our players also have the handicap of being already in itself a criminal juveniles, forced to do community work for his misconduct.


- If you just see ...

I also love his style, so independent, with a first chapter that seems more like a small theater, one need only look at the fact that more than just leaving them in the whole episode. Which is really giving a huge empty feeling, but that is compensated later started to appear side (not just in the plot, but as extras)

The musical score seems to me a wonder of the most varied, starting with the header, which is a song that is among my favorites. (If you are interested here you have the link to the list of spotify with BSO: BSO Misfits



not want to talk to not reveal anything, although I have seen is not too much, and I decided that view in English dubbing to like me very correct and tremendous fun to listen to (what you want to tell you, the voice of Kelly, but not the ifuckingloveyou the original price, I love English version) I hope you

throw a eye ligerita series, funny (Each episode to record at least get me a smile with the clever comments of Nathan Young, to whom I owe the title of this post) and original.

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Meetic Madness in Miami

I'm in Miami. More than one may be wondering, "AGAIN?". Yes, again. Whenever I can get away from Paris to come to my happy place, I do. Beyond the general culture of Venezuela, who believes that Miami is just the Dolphin Mall and Bayside, the last thing I do is to step into those places. The only thing I do when I come over here is going to the beach, rent movies from blockbuster and eating cereal watching Jerry Springer, Maury followed.

This Saturday I took 18 hours since I left my home in Paris to meet my parents. Between the time change, continents, languages, cultures, you get lost in the middle of everything.

I arrived at Orly Airport awake, active, Paris. Officially Parisian call me I can do. Will be Parisian attitude. Every day is complain all, the Paris talks about his city like a sewer. Even get to complain about the same things in Caracas, but on different scales. "The subway is shit, the city is filthy, there are gaps in the street, the uncertainty is getting worse, traffic is unbearable, there are too many motorcycles, the government is incompetent, and so on. "But even if you miss him shit to the city to the utmost, that no one would even think about saying that a city or a provincial French town is better than Paris because burst into laughter.

from Paris takes good care how she dresses. I have learned a lot here, and nor did I leave my house occurs in rubber shoes between Monday and Saturday. It turns out that if you badly dressed sales in Paris, "what matters, I go to the bakery in pajamas", you will be treated as inferior beings. The presentation is very important. On the street, you can see all types of styles, but precisely look like. After all, Paris is a of the fashion capitals. Only thugs and poorly dressed tourists. As the thugs hate Parisians and tourists, if you're badly dressed we're going to treat you badly. (Although I do not wear or the year living in Paris, I admit it: I hate tourists. They are slow, stand in the way and fuck life. If I had a nickel for every time I'm in a hurry going to school and there are some idiots tourists in front of the Sorbonne wondering why they can not come and visit the university, would be a millionaire. "mamahuevo No, you can not go and take pictures while we're in class! Leave crabs and get out.")

At Orly, transparent as water Parisian who is and who is not. The thugs do not travel, so if you are badly dressed, you are a tourist, you're well dressed, you're in Paris. All is calm in Orly, never queue and the airport is large enough to not feel in a market. In contrast, Newark Airport, precisely the domestic terminal, is a grab-ass. Shock number one

. In Paris or see you face when you stamp the passport. In the U.S., you not only see your face, you take a picture, your fingerprints, etc. Fortunately, I am an expert with immigration officials. I chose a young officer and African-American. When I arrived I started flirting with him. "Here is my passport, my and my visa forms "I said with a big smile on his face. The attitude changed completely black and also the agent next door turned and said "this woman is too perfect, check it well." I grabbed it and say, "Yes officer, I have a huge problem, never choose the right men. I have to help. " Well, better not. The two officers were installed with me, one I read "Men Are assholes sweetie, you just gotta find an asshole that's right for you", while the other would say "I can be your asshole, I'm looking for a latin girlfriend." Total of the story that took me more than usual from immigration, but was because I was talking about five minutes more with the buddies. I spent

really stepped immigration and the United States. There they were, all the gringos in cholas, in shorts, T-shirts of their favorite sports teams, etc. Why the hell have to travel by cholas? These pussies mother and cholas are removed for two seconds! It is amazing how all white American men over age 30 can be divided into two groups, or are in a suit or are in shorts / jeans, white sneakers and white stockings.

If anyone ever said, "Paris is beautiful, my trip was fine except for the Parisians who treated me very bad ", let me tell you that your friend was treated poorly known to go dressed in sneakers and speaking English. If one day go to Paris and want to be treated well, then throw away the rubber shoes, get dressed decently and seek at least say "Bonjour."

Shock number 2. Flight Newark - Miami was hell. The French are very quiet, no matter where you are in the Metro, in an airplane, on the street, the noise level is always the same: a minimum. People talk quietly and to try not to speak in public places like the subway or on airplanes to avoid disturbing people. To me this general rule I like. You can read comfortable without having a chaos around them. The gringos, and Venezuelans, not so. We, them, talk hard, anywhere. The flight took me forever, the children were crying, people talking and everyone was eating those chips of shit. To make noise while chewing pussy mother.

When finally landed in Miami, I wanted to throw the floor exhausted and cranky. Yes, domestic flights in the Yunaites put me in a bad mood. Being surrounded by so much Imbeciles, contained a cage wheel, I feel like bursting into hatred, so the post.

I stand on the carousel to wait for my luggage. I was careful choosing my post, did not want anyone near me a lot. Suddenly, a white gringo mamahuevo next to me, too close. The corduroy was dressed in jeans, white sneakers, a hat and a shirt that said "Dad Jets." Moreover, this man had two slaves fantasy gold, a gold watch Walmart and rings on his fingers (several). White-trash. Out of nowhere, comes another idiot gringo buddy and asks "What does it mean on your shirt, Jets Dad?" The corduroy turns and with an arrogant face says, "Well, it means I am the father of a Jet, Jets Give. "I still did not understand what the hell was which. Mr Just said the father of a Jet, a small group of people approached him to pull you ball. Now not only my personal space was invaded by a gringo motherfucker, but also now corduroy seven others had been cornered me. Would give me a heart attack, but was so exhausted that I did not want to move. "Who is your son? What position do you play? "At that moment I realize they're talking about American Football. Bone the corduroy of the Rings was the father of a professional soccer player. "My son is like me, have a beard, is white, is high," said Mr.. WOW! What a great description, you just described to all the other gringos in America. He did the hard, not wanting to reveal type the name of his son and giving an air of mystery to the matter. People were pulling all ball and began releasing the names of the most important players. Finally, let the Yoyo Gringo: the son of the velvet was not one of the important ones. It took about six riddles for someone to say "Nicolas ...", and when the gringo said" this is my son, they all were as disappointed.

JA! Not only the father is a loser with rings on his fingers, sure the child is a hot-bench. For a moment I thought the gringo would leave the show and would stay quiet. But no, he needed more attention. He grabbed his cell phone and called Tom. "Tom, how are investments? ... Tom, do not make me go to Missouri, I like what I'm listening ... No Tom, you listen to me, I'm spending a lot of money on this project, I need you most of all, but I'm going now to Missouri ... Then call my agent ... "Who the fuck you think you're mother's cheating? For starters, just for starters, if you have so much money corduroy, agents and litter investing, what the fuck you flying in a triple airline cheap? If silver corduroy HAD, JetBlue would not be flying with us, you'd be on the flight of American Airlines, Business Class. Second, apparently the only one with talent is your son or even be a professional player has absolutely no merit of which can benefit the human race. Sweeper would be more useful to humanity to be a football player. All you can do is play your son, your son is a loser. And you're even more loser to believe that your child is a star and try to take advantage of that. Take off the top so the "Jets Dad" and put the "LOSER", because that's all you are.

And right there I came out of Paris, I saw up and down with the face of "you're pathetic," I grabbed my bags and left.

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Seeking a vice

I I suffer from anxiety. As you may have realized the nature of the blog, I I take things too seriously, and to top it all exaggerating. While in Venezuela there are people on the beach, thrown into the sea, relaxed as the country goes to shit, I'm in France where I should not be complaining about anything, tearing the hair of the head.

For starters, the Masters of shit is unattainable levels of demand. Mother pisses me off so much studying to be never a day to reading. In the middle of everything I keep wondering, what this shit will fuck me? In the classifieds nobody is looking someone with my profile. Thinking about my options, I realize I can not return to my country because the pod is getting worse. And now, if Manuel Rosales runs for office again, I most likely have to Chavez until he dies.

The ment of anxiety is that it is hopeless. Need something that relaxes you, takes away the feeling that you're in a high-speed train that goes against a wall. For a moment I suddenly if he did not do everything alone all the time, I feel better. At least I thought if I were in love, life I seem so stressful. I got the perfect candidate and what I did, screwing up. Then I got to the conqueror and what I did, screwing up even worse.

With all this now I have even more anxiety. What I liked balls English? I am so fucked up! Really. My parents should use the next time you see me and go back to intern at Clinica Santa Maria. My problem is that whenever I choose the wrong candidate: best friend from college who only sees me as a friend , who lives in another country, and now that he has a girlfriend. Bravo! While there are women who are invested only in certain games, I pathological and self-destructive I invest in dead ends where there is a woolly shit waiting to return. When you realize that you are psychologically predisposed to ruin any chance to experience something romantic, you can not help thinking FUCK LOVE, I'd rather fall on DRUGS.

Obviously, when I think of drugs, gives me more anxiety. So what had started by anxiety level 3 now goes by 7 " I have to study too, my career does not work for half a shit, I have to stay in France because my country is in the pit, the jevo that I like has a girlfriend and Napa I get high I can not. " Just as the spirit of William Burroughs [1] appears to me, I remember the year working with my therapist rehabilitation.

Basically what I did in therapy was to discuss rehabilitation drugs, how I liked, how they helped me in my daily life and made me see my therapist instead drove me fucking drugs. Today I'm programmed so that when I think of cocaine, all I remember are the nosebleeds, so rods tachycardias you feel you're going to die and the vacuum so dark you feel the next morning. When I think of sleeping pills, remember the three washes the stomach. They are the best memories of the world, but yet, I was much laughter when he went to consultation with and he said "want to get a pea, to fall to pass and then send me some seeds to sleep" and she asked me "Why do you want to intoxicate? What substances give you? ". She never called pods by name, I said "parakeet, Kurdish and Tafila" she called them "substances" as if it were a metaphysical entity. I said "the huelengue" and she said "intoxication."

Obviously I will not relapse into drugs, but what then? What I can begin service to remove this feeling that my life is going to hell? A cigarette! A cigarette would help me relax. Just when I'm grabbing the wallet to buy a box of Marlboro, I remember it took me half a ball and quit. Turnoff which violent, the only decent part of me convinces me that cigarettes do not resolve anything.

For some reason, even though I know that cigarettes do not help me at all, but instead, joderían me even more, I still feel like turn one. Almost tremble thinking how rich he would light a panga, and would be even more rico prenderla con un vodka. “Déjame tomarme un trago”, salto. En vez de fumar y tomar, podría solamente tomar. Si me sirvo una copita de vino, un traguito de vodka, capaz pueda aliviarme. Pero apenas voy a la cocina y me sirvo el trago, una vocecita me dice “ Adriana pilas, recuerda que tienes una predisposición genética al alcoholismo”. ¡¡COÑO!!

¡Estoy en la puta mierda! ¿Cuál maldito vicio de mierda puedo empezar sin cagarme la vida? WHAT THE FUCK?! Y ni se les ocurra decirme, "Go to the gym" because I answer a "go to hell." I want to start a bloody ritual where every night after studying, and suck all my existential pean exaggerated light a fucking cigarette and I drink a damn glass of wine. But I can not, because vicious as I am, I could not control myself.

Damn it, can true, eleven junky, always a junky. Light a candle for me, gentlemen, and if the smoke of the candle they note, let me know.

PS: I went to therapy.

---

[1] American novelist known for his novel "Junky" and "Junkie" which chronicles the lives of heroin addicts .

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Two men, a road and Wendy Sulka

"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned"

Here is the latest installment in the series "Two men, a way." As you know, some time ago I met a Frenchman, then a English, and started out with both at once. Eventually you end up with both, in the case of French that I did not deserve to treat him so badly, in the case of English because I did not deserve to treat him so well. So, here I'll tell you why I lasted so long with English and why it took me so long to see it.

From the first time that English girlfriend said I had, I thought "this is just for one night." I threw myself into the adventure because I figured it would be only physical and temporary. But the first morning together, I woke up with a loving kiss. That was the first time I realized that the English had two sides, one visceral and insensitive, another loving and handsome. For narrative purposes, we call the first side The Bastard and second The Confused.

After the first night, I imagined that the English do not write me or anything, was quiet with the idea of \u200b\u200bnever seeing him again. But the next day I received a text message from him asking how he was. Why do you write to me if you have a girlfriend? Does she think that send text messages girlfriend is taking it? Is that English is confused? That kind of behavior, send messages, be loving, is part of the Conquest . Are we surprised? A English conquering America?

That weekend she invited me home, I went along and accepted the invitation. Are we surprised? Any American India falling into the trap of a conqueror? That night I thought for a second, suddenly English is not that bastard, but . We were in the middle of a conversation, I was talking and suddenly I interrupted, "give me a second," he said. He stopped, reached for his cell phone and called his girlfriend. Chapeau! [1] Not only was he called to say hello, but it also set up a good ten minutes to count the stories of the day. I should have stopped, I should have given a slap by mamahuevo and go. But then I thought and I said, you have to stand up and slap his girlfriend. I at least I was always aware of the situation, that India's poor are getting screwed much worse.

The following Saturday I was back at home. The Confused received me with all the hospitality of the world was warm and this time even bother to call Wendy, his girlfriend, before I arrived. We went to a party and between drinks The Confused I released the next pearl, " if this continues it will become something else" . It seemed as if the English were confused, and I was confusing to me.

The next morning appeared The Bastard . "I hope you're clear that this is temporary, I'm so in love with my girlfriend." I was so offended the way I said it, like I was stupid. For starters, I never said I did not understand anything from me. If someone had to give clarification was me, so I said "enough for me to know that you have a girlfriend for no falling in love with you. "

Yes I confess I was confused at some point. For example, one day I was alone at home thinking of him and turning to our own history as the naive teenager. I realized I was thinking like a typical woman, and I do not ever let me be the typical woman's box. "Adriana Bello Russián Valley, in the name of Plato, do not be distracted, he is nobody, get real fucking." To reinforce my belief that English is only a bastard, I went online and got the detective try to find out who was his girlfriend. All I knew is that is Peruvian, has 10 years older than me and works as a waitress in Madrid. I fell into a picture of them in Peru. When I saw it I thought, " Have you got to be shitting me!" .

Wendy Sulka Imagine in 20 years malacabada by drugs, so is the girlfriend of English. What I could fall so low? How could I have believed for a moment that I could choose me? I wound by a someone who prefers to Wendy Sulka, the waitress of 35 years in Madrid on me. Life is Shit.

The big question is, why I went with him for four weeks? I will not lie, because I was stupid . I thought I could control the situation, really wanted to see if you can go out with someone and control their emotions enough to not roll. Although right now I am safe from all, at some point I did think " if only ..." . I rolled up as the very stupid. The letters were not in my favor. To begin with, this man has a chemical that attracts me too, its smell, taste, etc. If we add that The Confused I got to like the loving and caring he was, was playing with fire. If I feel stupid and deceived ( Scorned) , is because I took too long to realize that that side of him, loving, caring and confused , never existed. It was just a strategy on their part to keep me hooked on his game. In the end he stays with it. I embarrassed, and he sure will marry, Wendy have children and will never read this post.

My friends played a huge role in this experience. Each took one side, some went down the path of " not think so, enjoy it and go. You are strong ". Others tried to console me with "you never know " . Almost all told me what I already knew, " you deserve more, let that jerk" . I especially thank Mrs. Silly by eternally wise advice about the English male culture.

is a general culture which does not learn from somebody else. Of these four weeks I lived and learned many things, no regrets. If I'm honest, this is the first time I go out with a mamahuevo of this magnitude. There was only one before him was a bastard, but I really take my hat off to The English .

My history with the English ended. If anything was an open window, this post serves as my atomic bomb to end it all.

---

[1] Chapeau in French means "hat." In French, instead of saying "hats off" to express your amazement at an event, saying only "hat", chapeau.

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Two men one way, part two.

Those who read my previous post know that I was dating two people at once, the French and English. Even when at one point I had fun hanging out with them, there came a point where it was too. The truth of the matter is that I'm not unhappy. At heart I am a sensitive person and the French did not deserve what I was doing. As mentioned before also, in both games would only be the same.


end at someone is never easy, but even worse when there is nothing to stop. I had not been long out with French, it seemed ridiculous to half sit and say "I do not want to follow." Moreover, the gentleman had been so good it deserved to be told in his face, "Chacaíto."


On Wednesday, the French called me and asked me out. We agreed to go to lunch. I went with a single purpose, to end the "ma cherie." When we were way to the restaurant, the French made another of his comments like "when we live together." There had not come to the restaurant and I was desperate to say "ENOUGH!" I could not control my expression of total hatred. He realizes that something is wrong. "Well, I'm not saying right now, but still have a future, right?". Do not! What fucking intense! I tried to change the subject, but no answer was more paranoid, "Do not think of us? Is everything okay? "Ah pod, I dropped the fruit bowl, I thought. I tell you to stop intensity, which enjoy the moment, not thinking much at all. I should have ended at that moment, but the truth is that I was straw completed in the bus.


When we reached the place, we sat and stared at me intently. It was not the first time he did, stay silent and look at me intensely as if I were the woman of his dreams. I returned a kind look, "you lost something?" I started the live show ardi vs madness to change a bit the tone of the situation. I told her about my Monday without hot water and when I finished he laughed, sighed and was silent. Really man? Will you remain silent? I tried again to avoid the awkward silence and asked, "And you? What was your week? ". I responded with this gem, "I did was miss." There is no point! But this is the last straw. Where was the French first date? Who was this asshole? What kind of response so corny and little thought is that? Deep breath and I repeated the phrase like a mantra: "just wait to finish the main course."


While entering, I realize that some times the human tendency to discuss things with his mouth open. It was a bummer astronomical. If in themselves and their cloying kitsch was at that time was already disgusted with their lack of manners. I could not wait until the main course, I burst at the end of the entry.

A: French you tell me, tell me something funny.
F: Eh I do not know, I can not think of anything.
A: Why is time not tell me anything?
F: is that you intimidate me. (STRIKE 1, Coward)
A: Would I intimidated? Why?
F: I do not know. (STRIKE 2, Stupid).
A: But the first day do not intimidating. Definitely a lot has changed since then.
F: Something has changed within you? (STRIKE 3, Vivid)
A: Yes, precisely why we are here.

someone When you finish, you have to shut all doors. You can not leave any hope, you have to understand that or that hell freezes over you come back with him. So, I did not apply the "not you, it's me." Apply to the problem is that you are too serious too fast. There is startled and says, "Were the thirteen missed it?". Obviously they were the thirteen missed asshole. Without me saying anything, began to apologize saying I was drunk and was worried.

A: French friend, do not you have you wondered why I did not you attended these thirteen times?
F: I thought you were in the bathroom, which I had lost the phone, anything.
A: Neither was sick in the bathroom, and I lost my phone. Once I saw that you left me 6 missed calls, do not want to talk. I rejected the call 7 times.

The Frenchman looked down and said, "I can change." What kind of person change for someone else? It makes no sense, I threw the other question, "do not you prefer someone who loves you for who you are?" Even when he realized then that I was right, he deserves better than me, began to tell me he more time, we could have some fun together, which I liked. Honestly, I gave the French straw. I'm not so special. I wanted to say, "you deserve better than this," but if you said this, he would listen "if you want to shape me, still." That's why you have to close all doors. It is the only way to ensure that the person is not glued to truly get rid of someone.


Most times, when someone ends a relationship, it's with hot washcloths. All the phrases "if we had known before," "not you, it's me" make the other person believe there is still hope. As you say these phrases cliché, the other person understands "we have to wait for the right time," one day he will change and I will want to let me wait. " But the truth of the matter is that nothing will change, things are as they are, period. Before planting a seed of doubt into French, I told the truth, "French, at first I liked. But from the missed calls and your comments and I do not like most. Here there is hope. "


After paying the bill, the French left with his head between his shoulders. Just as I felt sorry for a nano second and left there feeling freer than ever, without any remorse. I only hope that Mr Kharma not shit to me again the next.