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the coughing started towards the end of matt moran‘s masterchef theatre at the good food and wine show. as matt moran arranged raspberries atop a creme base, the one sharp point at the back of my throat grew into a great spluttering fit. i don’t think it caused too much disruption; the applause for the raspberry tart drowned me out.

but i have been coughing for just over two weeks now. at its worst it was the kind of cough that brings up brown and lumpy from my lungs. now, the germs seem to have all gone, but i wake up at four in the morning, still coughing, and the only way to get back to sleep is to watch cindy crawford’s informercial (“i never thought i’d be in an informercial…” she says, not batting an eyelid.) and read another chapter of “snow“.

having only vicariously experienced the good food show of previous years via grab your fork, i asked helen for some tips. “bring a backpack… get $25 worth of samples,” she offered helpfully.

so we hit the ground eating, deborah and i: lavosh bread topped with figs and white cheese, unusual jams — strawberry-balsamic vinegar-black pepper — on bite-sized scones, little cups of ready-peeled crabmeat, south australian pasta sauce made with south australian tomatoes, pomegranate green tea, chocolate…

for me, the show was all about chocolate. five minutes in we had found an organic chocolate stand with samples of buttermilk chocolate (“it is very sweet,” warned the samplegirl. and it was.) then we found the lindt stand, where a lady distributed raspberry lindor balls, and right behind her stood another lady handing out orange lindor balls. then the adora stand, where you present your hand, palm up, and the kind counter ladies filled it with callebaut chocolate buttons. the ikea stand missed a great opportunity to supermarket their range of swedish food (they were selling kitchens) but there was an enormous bowl of daim candies for the taking. not an hour into the show, we were walking down the aisles, woozy and lightheaded. but not one to let a feeling of unwellness stop me from eating chocolate, i plundered the sample trays of the three or four other organic chocolate stands, a generous hunk of a triple chocolate cookie and a teaspoon of wattle seed white chocolate mousse.

we sampled savoury for a bit — dried figs, fish tofu, curry on rice (twice!), corn chips — and then we bought the donna hay magazine show bag. curiously, it contained no donna hay products (besides the magazine, which irritates me), but was startlingly value for money. $7.95 bought us a couple of mini samples: a small packet of cardboard corn cakes and a tiny bottle of shower oil, but also a host of full-sized products like a pump pack of liquid hand soap, a tin of moroccan spice flavour rub, a 750g carton of raw sugar, a dozen dishwasher tablets, a pack of disposable plates edged with blue daisies, and a loaf of bread (!). [edit 22/06: and a three-pack of chocolate brownie-muffin bites, and a bottle of fiji water.]

across the aisle, the delicious magazine showbag upped the stakes with gourmet samples and a bottle of wine and a coffee voucher and a lindt chocolate cupcake, but you only got the showbag if you took out a subscription to the magazine. fair enough. but in a glorious twist of fate, deborah bought herself a subscription, and then handed me the cupcake. thanks, lady!

and so it was this moist, dark cupcake with the lush chocolate ganache that sat in my lap during the matt moran cooking show, though it didn’t really make it past the first few minutes. being in row g, we missed out on the plate of salt and pepper squid that got passed ’round the early birds up front, but he sure made it look easy, cleaning the squishy beast. “even simple enough for donna,” he quipped. then he picked up his cookbook several times, stroking the cover gently, like a proud papa.

the theatre disgorged right by the glitzy display of curtis stone’s new cookware range. silicone sheets with shallow star-shaped moulds for making wafers. double-walled glass ramekins. nice, and of course, we need more celebrity chef cookware. but the bright yellow C logo all lit up like broadway gave us the giggles.

we did a last lap around the exhibition hall, to buy the things which we’d been listing in our heads. there were other things we might have bought, at special show prices, if those prices hadn’t been tied to unmanageable quantities like five tins of powdered stock, or four bottles of soy sauce, for $10. (though at the kikkoman stand, we learnt that a teaspoon or a tablespoon of soy sauce in a dessert such as a lemon tart could really bring out the… tartness. when quizzed further, the counterman admitted that a tablespoon would actually be a lot, and the recipe developer actually recommended more like a teaspoon. perhaps the recommendation should actually be no soy sauce whatsoever in your dessert. anyone care to try this?)

so for me, what ended up in my shopping bag were three bars of single-region lindt dark chocolate (and a coupon for a free lindt macaron at the lindt cafe) for $5; the $25 adora chocolate showbag containing one each of their sixteen truffles, a dark chocolate bar, a bag of chocolate-enrobed turkish delight (from iran), and another mini belgian chocolate bar; and a carton of the organic triple chocolate cookies sampled earlier in the day.

way earlier. a week ago, i asked helen if two hours would be enough to see everything. wisely, she’d said to budget for three. as we left the exhibition hall, an announcement came through that the show would be closing in 15 minutes. i guess this means we’d been there close to six hours.

the show closed at six, but by five, the exhibitors had already begun scrubbing down their counters, and the samples were long gone. en route to the exit though, we were stopped in our tracks, because the good man at king island dairy was still handing out little tubs of chocolate creme dessert. what it is, is pure thick cream (53% milk fat, no vegetable gums or whatever) combined with belgian chocolate. genius.

i immediately wanted more, but it was dark outside, and there was a healthy walk to the buses ahead of us, and how were we to know that halfway through, it would begin raining sideways?

posted by ragingyoghurt on 19 June 2007 at 11:16 pm

permalink | filed under around town, bookshelf, chocolate, shoping, snacks

how has a week gone by already? it’s like time travel i tells ya. last sunday morning we were a flurry of activity, pretzel-dipping. this time i roped in eager little hands: grabby fingers to break up a lindt bar, agile fingers to fish pretzels out of the chocolate bath, grubby fingers from samples along the way.

we packed a picnic then: buffalo mozzarella and pesto sandwich for me, tasty cheese and avocado sandwich for the kid, and a little box of sliced tomatoes for on-site insertion. a couple of mandarins in the basket, and a few chocolate-dipped pretzels for good measure. we were off to the acoustica festival, just up the hill and then down the hill from home.

from the crest we looked down into birchgrove oval, and it was like a quaint village through the clearing. an arc of little white tents lined the perimeter, some festooned with balloons, proferring all manner of festival foods, sunglasses and quick massages. there was a giant inflatable slide, and a swing-carousel, and something with a row of clowns’ heads that swiveled to and fro.

in the middle of it all there was a boy and his guitar. he was the first act of the day, and the front row was his friends from high school. there was no second row — it was very early in the proceedings — so we sat a couple metres back, on my $10 “burberry” picnic rug, and minutes later, as he played an elliott smith song, all the food was gone.

“can we go and buy some ice cream?” asked the kid. it was a reasonable request, even though the new zealand natural ice cream stand was charging an unreasonable $4 per scoop.

we returned to our rug to catch as many minutes of act number two as it took for the pink ice cream to be eaten, and then, “can we go to the face painting?”

we returned to our rug — one of us hopping all the way — to see the third act of the day, but it was perhaps too much to ask of the kid. she was already being pulled in the direction of the playground up the hill. we left in the middle of some pretty good 12-bar blues.

considering the last live music i saw was baby proms at the opera house, and the second last live music was a playschool concert, i was pretty happy.

this makes me happy too: the six-month expired box of royce nama chocolate in my fridge is still completely edible! these little bricks of fine chocolate, each one dusted in cocoa powder, pack a punch of dark chocolate flavour and melt away to nothing on my tongue. actually, the google translated page tells it better:

it is the raw chocolate of the sweetness moderate adult. …the elegant fragrance starts overflowing, V.S.O.P was blended in the bitter chocolate. tastefulness it is the raw chocolate of the adult taste where the elegant fragrance and the bitter impression of overflowing do not accumulate.

all true. it is made with fresh cream, and apparently has a shelf life of one month. but i have put it to the test, and six months past 27 october 2006, they are still perfect. now that’s time travel.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 28 April 2007 at 9:15 pm

permalink | filed under around town, chocolate, kid, kitchen, snacks

in the midst of one of those two-hour, long-distant calls to nellicent the other night, i asked, “um, where is your sainbury’s?”. i thought that i’d made it seem an innocent question, apropos of nothing, though my index finger was making random loop-de-loops on the magazine page.

she gave it serious thought. “oh. it’s in [name of suburb], on [name of street] and –,” she paused, before the shrieking began. “i know what you want!!”

“argh!” i shrieked back, “i want it! i want it!”

“i know what you want! i have already bought it for you, in my head!”

“well,” i said, “i hope that you are not talking about cheese.”

because i surely wasn’t. a week ago, i’d read a story on anya hindmarch, in “vogue“, that mentioned a shopping bag she’d designed for sainsbury’s in the UK, in one of those everybody-wins exercises to reduce plastic bag consumption. and what a bag. before it’s even gone on sale at the supermarkets, it’s already sold out its online pre-sale allotments, and gone on to appear on ebay at forty times its original cost.

we went on to discuss the logistics of obtaining one (or two!) of these bags — which sainsbury’s branches might sell them, and if she might have to rope in one of her friends in case there was a one-per-customer limit (there is!) — and now that i’ve read a bit more about the madness, it all seems just a bit too stella-at-target.
so perhaps i won’t be getting one after all.

but what better time to spruik the raging yoghurt shopping bag? ok, so it’s not designed by anya hindmarch, is not a limited edition, will cost you more than £5, and will make me a couple of bucks too… but you can hang it over your shoulder and carry all manner of groceries in it, just like the sainsbury’s one. anyway, don’t you just need another canvas shopping bag? i myself have a selection of eight or ten hanging from my laundry door.

and while we’re on the hindmarch comparisons, look what i made saturday morning: chocolate-covered pretzels.

after breakfast (sour cherry jam on buttered rye and caraway bagel, yum) i melted down a 100g bar of lindt dark chocolate in a large bowl over a pot of simmering water. i tipped in a bag of salted pretzels, and stirred until everyone was well-coated. i fished them out with a bamboo skewer and laid them out to set on a sheet of grease-proof paper. it’s an effortless and addictive snack, i tell you, with the bittersweet chocolate (just a thin enough coat to start melting in the warmth of your fingertips), and the sharp crunch of the pretzel, and the lingering surprise of a random salt chip.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 15 April 2007 at 1:42 pm

permalink | filed under breakfast, chocolate, kitchen, nellie, shoping, snacks

my breadbin is a large pink enamel trough (enamelled pale buttery yellow on the inside) with a wooden lid for slicing bread on (though i have not done so). i would not be surprised if it suddenly twisted itself up into a horn of plenty, because this is what it holds:
– 1 loaf of sourdough soy and linseed
– 2 blueberry bagels
– 1 muesli cookie
– 1 dark chocolate sour cherry cookie
– a bag and a half of japanese rice crackers
– and the last couple of slices of supermarket bread, several days old, on which i am now waiting to develop those furry green clumps of mould before i put them in the bin.

there would’ve been a macaron (or two. or three!) in there as well, but… well, you shall see.

yesterday was a busy day. before our 12.30 lunch date, we had already made acquaintances of the waterfowl (and single displaced pelican) on the victoria park pond; gone on everything at least once in the park’s playground; and handed over $4 for the muesli cookie at toby’s estate — well, it is a pretty good cookie, large as a small bun, moist, packed full of brown sugar and wheaty bits and a harvest of dried fruit. after some hijinx in the shoe aisles of kmart, we bought two pairs of boots (child size 6) for the coming winter, and then settled in at tomodachi with deborah, for agedashi tofu, sashimi salad, and an assortment of exotic maki from the sushi train. a sizeable feast, though i think the kid came away best of all, having charmed herself all the cherry tomatoes in the salad, and more pieces of salmon sashimi than you’d think a two-and-a-half year old would want.

midweek, leading up to lunch, we had already discussed dessert. words like “macaron” and “chocolate tart” were bandied about the ether. beb patisserie on broadway, as you know, does a fine line of exotic macaron, and across the road, the bourke street bakery satellite beams you a full range of sweet tarts. alas. our worse fears were realised as we arrived at beb: those “for lease” signs i thought i’d seen whizzing past on the bus a couple weeks ago, they were indeed pasted up on the cold glass windows of the dark little shell. all the shop fittings were still there, but the sign on the door, unglamourously askew, said “CLOSED”, even though the list of times posted right next to it indicated that it should be OPEN.

we grieved only the briefest moment before turning on our heels and crossing the street. at bourke street bakery, the chocolate tart beckoned, but after picking a sourdough soy and linseed loaf (eschewing the hot cross loaf — a gigantic, craggy hot cross bun, which sounded very warm and spicy from the handwritten description, and which i will no doubt return for one of these days before easter, and make into slices of very buttery fruit toast) i found i no longer had a longing for dessert. the chocolate cookie, a sizeable disc of chewy black packed with chewy sour cherries, was almost an afterthought (but of course i had been thinking about it ever since the plan for lunch had been hatched).

and so that is why my breadbin is packed to capacity.

[ the blueberry bagels (by bagel house) were already there. i bought them at the supermarket on special, but for the last few weeks i have been seeing a bagel house cafe slowly take shape on darling street. i must investigate further. ]

posted by ragingyoghurt on 31 March 2007 at 4:51 pm

permalink | filed under around town, drawn, lunch, snacks

a fillet of salmon meets its demise, surrounded by green: green peas, green mash, salsa verde.

bloody hell. has it been a week of freakish death or what? i started watching “look both ways” last year, and one of the characters, an artist, had moments where she saw random and violent ways in which she came to an end. these episodes — being flattened by a train, or eaten by a shark — were animated in the style of her painting… and were strangely similar to the fleeting glimpses i get from time to time: if i’m standing high up somewhere, i look down and imagine myself broken on the ground below; or if i’m waiting to cross the street on the corner, i might see a car riding the pavement and ploughing into me. which is what happened to those people in kogarah. did they ever think it would happen to them? i never did see what becomes of the movie; it was a rental, and halfway through it started sticking every few seconds. i returned it unfinished, and got a credit on my account, and eventually used it to borrow an instalment of the last season of “six feet under“. me, obsessed with death? naw.

there were times in the last couple of weeks though, where i thought my unravelling would be due to the book i’m currently working on. i cannot describe to you the despair i felt as i opened each jpg, to find that it was yet another badly lit, out-of-focus snapshot, and that it had been scanned in at too low a resolution; a blessing or a curse — that it could only be used small? by last weekend, the RSI had set in, and my eyes itched in revolt when i so much as glanced at my screen. still, i felt like i had finally broken the back of the beast. i knew where things lay; i knew what had to be done. and then the email came in:

“i am going to send you the book map that we changed around a bit too (minor) so maybe send the pagination once you have done your stuff.”

you did not hear the screams, but they were so loud (major), in my head.

but it hasn’t all been crap, even when my grandfather died last thursday. he’d been sliding into dementia for years, and had suffered a series of mini-strokes which left him increasingly placid and smiley. he no longer knew who i was, and i hardly saw him anyway. but when i was six, he taught us — me and my cousins — such things as not to point at people with our chopsticks, and not to sit at the dining table with our legs propped up on our chairs; only rickshaw drivers sat like that. he obsessively clipped stories from the chinese newspaper and pasted them into his scrapbooks, and sometimes he would test me by making me read headlines. he never really accepted the excuse that i only knew the simplified modern characters. he was admitted into hospital already halfway gone. my mum txted me while we were at the powerhouse on that day — harmony day — when all visitors wearing thongs (footwear, not bumfloss) got in for free: she was on the 7.30 bus to KL. barely twelve hours later, they shut off the machines. and off he went.

if you go to the powerhouse museum before april 22, you will get to see guan wei‘s splendid mural on the walls of the top floor, a “floating, poetic corridor in which history and memory, fact and fiction are blurred” [in his own words, from the powerhouse website]. it is great, and there is a stuffed wombat.

so there was that, and also, one day i made green mashed potatoes — buttery mash with some improvised salsa verde swirled through (with extra salsa verde on the side) (and enough mash and salsa verde left over for two more meals consisting solely of mashed potato and salsa verde).

and yesterday, walking through pitt street mall, the kid and i simultaneously glanced over at the entrance to the myer food hall, and simultaneously registered that there was a pair of gigantic golden bunny ears popping up over the escalators. specifically it was the lindt gold easter bunny, ten feet tall, the best kind of inflated doll. we had just missed some sort of chocolate demonstration, but the lindt girl offered us a lindor easter egg and a little easter chicken from her easter basket. (and then while waiting for the bus, maeve insisted on unpeeling her chicken, and the whole body of it fell out onto the funky black ground, leaving her holding onto the tiny hollow head, still wrapped in foil, and she was rightfully traumatised, but there was funky black matter stuck to the chicken, though only on one side, so i broke off the tainted side and gave the rest of it back to her, and she ate it and was mostly fine except for a bit of a loose bowel today.)

and two sundays ago, we went to the playschool concert in tumbalong park, during which a purple paper birthday cake was unveiled, and everybody sang “happy birthday” to the sydney harbour bridge. the cake was nice and all, but nowhere quite as delicious as jay la’gaia.

and then later in the day, we walked over the bridge, and looked up into the steel arches, and down between the gaps in the roadway into the deep green harbour, and by the end, just as it began to drizzle, i hadn’t fallen in, or been flattened by a girder.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 29 March 2007 at 9:47 pm

permalink | filed under around town, at the movies, chocolate, dinner, kid, snacks, werk

after spending the night mostly awake and upright in my airplane seat, i stood in the red lane for about an hour as the one xray machine available was put to work (slowly) keeping australia’s borders safe. as it turned out, my booty of dried mushrooms, dried scallops — oh how i have missed you! –, chocolate, tea, biscuits and antihistamines was waved cheerily through.

ah… tea. a good cup of tea is hard to find, in singapore. no, wait. a great cup of tea can be found if you want a local teh c: a puddle of condensed milk in a thick china cup, topped with hot tea and swirled into a sweet caramely beverage. or a marsala chai pungent with spices, at the dosai place. but if you want a nice cup of normal tea, say for breakfast, you will pay $5 for a twinings english breakfast teabag swimming in a pot of hot water. the amount of water will be too much for a single measly tea bag, and you will spend all of breakfast time wondering why the hell tasteless brown water costs so much, eh? rivercafe? “modern australian style” indeed.

when i got home, i brewed a cup of toby’s estate’s strong and delicious australian breakfast tea, tempered with a good slosh of full-fat milk. it was perfect with the valrhona chocolate biscotti that i found (and which was bought for me, thanks frenchie!) at da paolo gastronomia, the deli arm of my new favourite place to eat (western food) in singapore: da paolo pizza bar.

the biscotti give a solid crunch of unexpected buttery saltiness. the plain version is served with your chocolate gelato in the restaurant. the chocolate chip (i use the word “chip” loosely; they are really just large chunks carved off the block, i’m sure) version is all sweet-salty mind-boggly good.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 5 March 2007 at 8:27 pm

permalink | filed under chocolate, drink, snacks, trip

[ a picture of a baked treat: a slab of pandan cake topped with a good smear of red bean paste, enveloped in puff pastry; it has been baked, in its entirety, with a sprinkling of polo topping, and then sliced down the middle and filled with buttercream. in the background, a steamed pork bun. ]

there you go.

’round about noon yesterday, after we had walked through the ten courts of hell, and climbed the winding path up the hill which culminated in a vibrant tableau of the journey to the west, it began to drizzle. we were damp and sticky from a moist, 34 degreed morning, so we took it as a sign to climb back into the car and leave the feral gorillas for the next trip.

the rain was pelting down by the time we got to crystal jade kitchen, and the queue for a lunchtime table was long. from the bakery annex, i put together a quick inflight care package for nellie; she was booked onto KLM, so she’d need all the help she could get.

CRYSTAL JADE CAKERY
( JUNCTION 8 ) PTE LTD
1 Cake Cup 1.05
1 BBQ Pineapple Bun 1.24
1 Pineapple Kaya Bun 1.33

and for myself, just to make me feel better,
1 R.Bean Pandan Cake 1.33

it worked, i think, though it hasn’t stopped raining. everything around me, indoors even, is limp and damp.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 1 March 2007 at 11:39 pm

permalink | filed under around town, cake, nellie, snacks, trip

this eating like pigs…

continues…

a. post-soba dessert at ajitei takashimaya
(maccha sundae anmitsu with warabi mochi, maccha jelly, tinned peaches, some strange salty beans and a tiny jug of raw honey.)

b. chocolate buffet at the fullerton hotel
(maccha and chocolate pudding with gold-leafed berries; followed by a hot chocolate made to order at the hot chocolate bar: select from bowls of single origin valrhona chocolate pieces to be melted down in a saucepan of hot milk by the hot chocolate flunkie, and served with two salted pretzels; followed by many, many little dishes and shot glasses to the point of unwellness.)

c. trip number two to the zoo
(feeding time for the piggies — a great puddle of chopped up papaya, corn, bananas and gunk inhaled amidst constant low-pitched grunting — after which we saw, close-up in the rainforest enclosure, bats eating watermelon, after which we had to make our way to the ben & jerry’s at the exit for a tub of cherry garcia.)

posted by ragingyoghurt on 28 February 2007 at 4:07 pm

permalink | filed under around town, chocolate, ice cream, snacks, trip

hui(2) niang(2) jia(1). traditionally, the second day of the chinese new year is when those daughters who’ve been married out return to their old family homes, bearing gifts for the parents they left behind. and so, my good mother bought us all bus tickets to KL, and we rode into town with a box of mandarins, a box of persimmons, a box of belgian chocolate truffles, and half a tub of plant fertiliser.

there is quite a range of buses to choose from doing the singapore-KL route; some have toilets in the back and karaoke lounges downstairs. some have a hostess who serves you a satisfying meal of dry-fried beehoon with nothing more than a few bean sprouts and a couple strips of thin egg omelette. based on the bargain price of $50 for the return trip, we rode the one which is known for nothing more than its on-board oreo snack. and it’s true, behind the check-in counter at the depot office was a wall of cartons: classic oreo, and a new-fangled variant filled with an unholy (though strangely compelling) union of peanut butter and chocolate creme. krim kacang dan krim coklat!

at the pagoh reststop, i bought a beefburger and a bag of fries, solely on the basis that on the bus, it would be easier to eat than soupy noodles… and then many hours later, during the night, in the royale bintang damansara hotel, i had four dreams about vomitting before getting out of bed at 6am to make my dreams come true. twice.

the rest of the day was spent in bed, in the darkened room, while everyone else went about paying their respects and exploring the hot and dusty hellhole that is KL. nellicent was kind enough to bring me a $14 (ringgit) green tea frappucino, of which i only dared to drink half because i wasn’t up to experimenting with verdant vomit… but it really is my favourite starbucks beverage.

the next morning i was healed enough to savour teh tarik and roti bakar from the greasy, greasy place next door. it turned out to be honey toast, with a bright yellow slick of what i’m sure could only have been planta margarine. mmm.

we ate at aunts’ houses, and at indian eateries. at ikea (it was across the road from the hotel, really), we bought a packet of mild, milky cheese to supplement the pitiful hotel buffet breakfast. at the indian vegetarian place, the kid was plied with free pappadums. at my grandmother’s, we feasted on such things as stuffed crabs (in which the crabmeat and minced pork and other things are put into the crabshells, and deepfried) and salted vegetable and duck soup, which we will never know how to make, and perhaps soon, will never have to chance to eat again.

sigh.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 25 February 2007 at 2:38 pm

permalink | filed under around town, breakfast, dinner, lunch, nellie, snacks, trip

there is not so much eating between meals (she says, suddenly remembering yesterday’s jalebi eaten on the walk between mrt station and home), but i am never hungry in this country. i will go as far as to say “always full”, and i suspect it has something to do with the high protein content of the meals. it is not necessarily the way i wish to be, because really, i would like more snacks, but what can you do?

[ shrugs ]

we are getting brown, all of us, except monsieur olive, who diligently reapplies his 40+ spf at regular intervals. yesterday, around lunchtime, my mother accosted an indian woman in the street, and asked her the way to komala vilas. the lady asked where we were from, and laughed when we replied, “singapore”. she gave us directions to mustafa‘s too, and sent us on our way to a dosai feast.

two dosai in two days, and still not quite the record set in crazy bangkok, where five papaya salads were consumed in as many days. one of these we bought from a stall outside a temple by a canal; it cost 20baht — quite a bit less than a dollar.

three days later we chose to forgo the $18 papaya salad at indochine/forbidden city/cocoon/whatever the hell the name is along the singapore river. i expect it would have been as lacklustre and overwhelmingly disappointing as the duck and green (hah!) mango salad we had instead. tchk. indochine.

the days are passing quickly in a slow blur of blocked sinuses and ears, and heat-induced sleepiness. the other afternoon, we made plans to leave the house after a twenty-minute nap, but suddenly it was three hours later. we have been to the zoo, and the kid has ridden an elephant, and i have bought two pairs of fake crocs, so definitely, things are getting done, and objectives are being met… but there are still sweetcorn ice cream sandwiches on rainbow bread to be had, and the chocolate buffet at the fullerton, and perhaps a pair of running shoes.

[ shudder ]

in conclusion, i would like more snacks, and more naps; and indochine should change its name to “flavourless trendy tryhards”.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 17 February 2007 at 2:42 pm

permalink | filed under snacks, trip

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