I am sitting at Primi in Camps Bay, enjoying the after-effects of a facial and massage from the Little Mouse, drinking coffee and watching the ocean. I could get used to this being-unemployed-thing.
Otherwise... hmmm... pretty chilled. ....
AH!
AHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!
My tastebuds have just been ASSAULTED!
Gross! Ewww!!!!!!! Yuck! Blech!
[spits, scrapes tongue with knife]
[drools a bit]
WTF.
I ordered a bite to eat with my coffee. One egg, one piece of toast, 2 pieces of bacon and some roasted tomato.
There I am, merrily eating away when suddenly, out of nowhere, my tastebuds are attacked! Then, in self defense, they crawl into the recesses of my tongue, screaming for mercy. Seriously, there are claw marks on the inside of my mouth right now. I'm so grossed out.
Dear Primi;
Do not try to inspire 'global fusion' to your dishes by artfully decorating the plate with swirls of Marmite. If I want that horrible brown sludge on my food, I'll ask for it.
Love,
T-Lo
About Me
- T-Lo
- After 12 years, 3 passports, 20 countries, 5 work permits, 1 permanent residence permit, countless passport stamps, 3 no-cents-to-my-name moments, 1 incident of everything-I-own being stolen, (almost) 3 university degrees, 1 bout of pneumonia, 1 sickness requiring a tropical disease specialist, 5 interesting career paths, 1 Big Leap Of Faith, 9 ridiculously long layovers, many Airplane Party Packs prepared and consumed, (only) 1 threat of arrest, 1 mild detention, dozens of rivers paddled, handfuls of mountains climbed, 4 oceans swum, a few fights fought, many animals seen, hundreds of exotic meals consumed, 47 tears shed, thousands of friends made, hundreds of thousands of memories stored and a million laughs guffawed... it is time to go home.
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