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EIGHTH TASK: JUNE 1ST - JUNE 30TH

Our eighth City of Dreams task will be…. What is your Happy Place?

Does your celeb have a favorite vacation spot? Is their home their happy place? What about when they’re working? Do they have a favorite restaurant that they would consider their happy place? Is it a person? A pet? The possibilities are endless!

For this task, you’re welcome to create a moodboard for your celeb’s happy place. You can also write about it, have your celeb post to Instagram about it, or whatever your heart desires! Just make sure you have your celeb tell us why they chose this certain person/place/thing, etc. for their happy place!

Be sure to tag your posts with #cityofdreamstask and tag us at @cityofdreamstasks so that we can reblog it and show off your celebs’ happy places!

#cityofdreamstask #task eight

Too Close for Comfort.

Fame, Celebrity, Stardom.

Rumi knew exactly what she was getting into when she became famous. She knew that people would love her. They would want to meet her, and in turn she wanted to meet them as well. She didn’t want to seem completely unapproachable if her fans saw her out. Maybe that was her first mistake.

It had started nearly a year ago. She would get small gifts dropped off at her door, harmless things like notes and small trinkets. Rumi wasn’t worried, it’s not like her fans were beating down her door. Then it started getting more intense. Pictures of her from outside her apartment, phone calls where no one would answer her. Then came the knocking on the door. It would always happen when she was busy, and couldn’t answer the door. Then it would happen early in the morning after she had gotten home from the clubs, and in the clubs she’d get random drinks bought for her, from “her biggest fan.”

Of course she would never drink them too scared that they would be laced with something. She upped her security, and tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. Until things in her home would start changing. Sunflowers would be changed to roses, things would be missing from her fridge and polaroids started showing up, of her sleeping. Them, in her bed, taking pictures of her. Most nights she slept hardly clothed, if clothed at all. What if…? She couldn’t think about that. It made her sick to even imagine the possibilities.

She had seen his face a few times, hiding in the crowds or on security tapes. She knew who he was, and if she ever caught him she would not hold back on charging him with anything. Stalking, breaking and entering. And then this week made all of that come to a screeching halt.

Monday, seven am. Rumi rode in the backseat of a black escalade. The windows were tinted, and her three bodyguards were trailing behind her in a black Mercedes. They were headed to a shoot, for a brand deal when a red truck came speeding behind them. They were recklessly driving, swerving in and out of the lane. The Escalade sped up some, and in due time. The truck rammed into the Mercedes and sent it flying into the air, flipping it onto it’s hood. The truck was still going but not being controlled due to the driver being dead from the impact. It swerved off the road as well and Rumi’s car stopped, the police were called, and she waited. She saw the driver of the truck as he was peeled out of his vehicle and put into the ambulance. It was him. It was her stalker.

She was shaken up to say the least, but worried for her bodyguards. She put each of them on her hospital tab and was all too willing to pay for them. She knew that fans were sometimes a little too obsessed, but this man wanted to kill her. This man was willing to die himself as long as she was going too, like some fucked up suicide pact that he made on his own.

She was glad that she was safe, though she didn’t know when the next super fan would come along, and if they would be even crazier.

#task eight

PRE-SEASON TASK EIGHT

The before picture, the before weight, and the last time I will ever be either of those. Taking my before picture was hard – I’ve been actively avoiding photos since I realised how much weight I had gained. Anyway, when I have an after photo to go with my before photo, I will show all my lovely followers and readers. Until then, it’s for my eyes only. My ‘before’ weight is 80.5kg. More than I’ve ever weighed before, and 15kg more than I weighed this time last year. And definitely more than I will weigh a week/a month/a year from now. My before measurements are terrible too. Which I guess it would be weird if they weren’t, not that it makes me feel any better seeing them. Chest: 102 cm Waist: 88 cm Widest (hips): 110 cm Distance from knee: 17 cm Right thigh: 60 cm Left thigh: 59 cm Right arm: 33 cm Left arm: 33 cm The only measurement I am surprised about is my left thigh. It looks a lot smaller than my right, but obviously it’s just changed shape drastically, not size. I have been doing my exercises though, so maybe they helped (I hope so anyway!) Also, other exciting stuff – it’s officially Week One! Time to work my ass off, and change my life!

#personal #12wbt #task eight #stats #goals

New Year, New Blog Posts!

I'm baaaaaaack.

By actual popular demand, and the fact that several glorious Christmas presents have got me itching to cook real food again, and the fact that I found my camera after months of having it lost amongst V's things in Phoenix (and with it scores of unpub'd blog posts in the making!!!), BARFOOD LIVES!

Sure, I'm not studying for the bar anymore, which makes the title of the blog even more confusing than it already was. I suppose I could change the name to . . . Clerk Food? Clood? But no, that would be a terrible idea for many reasons, not least of which is that I'd lose all my hardearned streetcred among the masses.

So the name remains. I hereby vow to post at least three posts a week from now until August, when I may need to take a break for moving very very quickly across country with dog (just found out "start date" for next job is meant to be 1.5 months before "end date" of current job - I think I'll need to violate the temporal prime directive to get this one done.) But as usual I find myself extremely far out on a really nerdy tangent and probably scaring people.

Hey, here's the part of the post where I start talking about food! I figured a good place to start with my new year, new blog thing would be to show you some pictures of the New Year's feast made by seven of us law school buddies who met up in a house in Scottsdale for a NYE reunion. The food was wayyyy better than the company. JUST KIDDING!

Here are the four types of bruschetta we made. Winner of best/most unique: granny smith apples, goat cheese, maple syrup (does that count as savory food with fruit?) Other good one: roasted red peppers, garlic, bacon, cilantro.

Eagle-Eye View.

In that bowl there to the right sits one delicious beet salad. I'm pretty sure it consisted of beets, blue cheese, bacon, tomatoes, pears, and candied walnuts.

And JR made some realllly good brussels, and boy were they a sprouted.

Did any element of this meal not contain bacon? That's one of those questions best left unasked. Or unanswered. Or something where the result is that you don't feel bad and you just keep right on putting bacon on things.

Here we are, about to chow down. And yes, if you were wondering, the owner of this VRBO had left allll the tags on the placemats. This fact, and several other details of the house, gave me the distinct impression we were staying here.