The Irony of de Feast

It is truly cruel and unusual punishment to give a woman recovering from a stomach bug a $100 voucher from Indochine. It really is. I just unearthed this from Indochine and realised I have to use it up by tomorrow. Ahhhhhhh ... the irony! The irony!!!

So I called a friend to ask if she would like to go to lunch with me - my treat. After all if I can't enjoy it, at least someone else can. I'll just have safe soups and tea. I will try to bring my camera so I can post the piccies. Before she demolishes the food.

I wonder if I should give my old mates there a call to make sure they are OK with that though ... hmmm ...

Anyway, am trying to eat something here and still not having an appetite. I bought some lemon fish and sauteed kale for an early dinner (real early) as I did not have any lunch. I barely ate 1/3 of it. Sigh. The only thing I seem to be able to stomach is the waterchestnut drink I bought. Major sigh.

Hopefully tomorrow my appetite is better. Luckily I asked a friend who's a big eater.

Gave the ole Indochine a call and Mike is so cute. When I told him I wanted to take pictures for my blog, he started giving me the ole big brother talk about being careful not to give my address or contact details as "all those people are psychos". LOL. So sweet.

Which means I am one too, I guess. Since I am a blogger. And I visit other people's blogs. And leave comments. Usually of the lascivious variety too.

"oooohhhh, that looks soooo delish!"

"I just love dark chocolate lavishly lathered with whip cream"

"Drooooool ... just look at those luscious droplets of ambrosia slithering down the velvety skin of that mascarpone-stuffed, sherry poached peach"

I mean, if that is not a sign of complete dementia, what is??? My apologies to my oft-visited sites such as OsloFoodie, StephenCooks, Fresh Approach, Spiceblog, etc for being the psycho who trawls through their blog. Eh, so guys .. what's your contact details then? Bwahahahahaha! *Makes vain attempt to hide twitch and WMF knife.*

Categories - Rambling Prose