Dirty Desserts

D and I were out to lunch last week for a break away from the office stomping grounds. It was at a lovely little Latin cafe. A fancy-ish one. Y'know, where they line up impressive (and impossibly fatty) pastries and cakes in the outer window. A line of artistic sweets that scream, "You wish you could eat me." And dammit. They're right. The arrogant tarts.

After D and I had finished a fantastic lunch (in the normal cafe area), we had to walk by the tempting desserts that were arrayed along a glass panel leading towards the exit. Each one was sumptuous looking with yummified this and sugar-topped that.

We browsed hesitantly. I was certain not to buy one. I couldn't. I wasn't good enough. But D charged on gallantly. He looked at the cakes and even though he wanted something the cakes weren't doing it for him. Then I saw them. The profiteroles. I prodded D and asked him about the cream-filled puffs.

"I don't know," D said, "Profiterole is such a dirty word."

"Is it? I've never thought of it as dirty or clean. It's just yummy, creamy pastry with chocolate sauce."

"Nah, I don't like to eat them because they just seem so dirty."

"Hmm. Profiteroles. The dirtiest of desserts. Yeah, I can sort of see it."

Hilarious. I've never thought of particular desserts as being dirty. Is it in a literally dirt-grimy-needs-to-be-soaped-down type of way? Or is it a sexual thing? Am I missing the boat completely? D didn't go on to elaborate but I find it very amusing that profiteroles are at the top of the dirty dessert list.

What about creme brulee? That sounds a bit dirty to me. And it's French. Or perhaps peanut butter ice cream? Everything just tossed in willy nilly and swirled around a bit. Tastes fantastic. I don't honestly know how profiteroles fought their way to the top.

Bush is a filthy monkey

The President's (ha! can barely type that) State of the Union address is on at the moment and he's still going on about the same shit as 5 years ago. Iraq this. Terrorists that. Staying in Persian Gulf hoopla. Apparently all of us Americans are supposed to be thankful for him and his admin starting an illegal war, wasting billions upon billions of our money, and let's not even talk about how down stream America's international rep has gone.

I can't stand Bush. He can't seem to get a single sentence out of his mouth without fucking it up in some way. Who knows what muck he's going to get us into this year. Roll on the election!!

Dentist

I have got to get to the dentist. It's been less than a year since I've been there so it actually could be a whole heaping pile worse (i.e. never). But there's been some damage going back about 5 months now that I still haven't corrected.

I don't know if it is a) I don't like the dentist (and let's be real, who really enjoys that sadistic place? Except the weirdos who get off on pain?) b) I just really can't be bothered (um, that is another way of saying lazy) or c) There's nothing good in it for me. I don't care about the free toothbrush and floss. Give me a necklace or free tickets to a concert or better yet--money. Yes, it would be awesome if the dentist decided to pay me for being such a good patient (that is, showing up in the first place).

The goodies that dentists dish out to people (after they are through with the torture--"Let me just rip this tooth out of your gum, don't worry, yes, yes, swallowing the blood is normal. Yes, I know it hurts, don't worry you've got a jazzy blue toothbrush and minty waxed floss coming to you") just isn't enough to compensate for the discomfort and sheer anxiety a trip to the dentist ensues in most people.

Not that I have a severe phobia. I just don't like the dentist. I think you'll find most people agree with me. Unless you are one of the masochistic few who like drilling and pulling of teeth. You weirdos.

I suppose there are a few goody-two-shoes out there who have never had to worry about getting their teeth drilled. Probably the ones whose parents are dentists themselves and therefore are sheltered from sugar until they are 13 and discover good-natured cigarette-trying, snicker-filled, beer-guzzling rebellion. But in adulthood, they are actually very good about their teeth and don't mind the dentist. Oh, to be spared the anxiety...

I, on the other hand, have had cavities since I was 10. Sugar was my friend. (And still is, obv, hence the teeth problems). Fear of white coats and flouride treatments run wild. The sterile beast. I shall ask for a pretty necklace next time at the dentist. Or at least $20. It's the least they can do.

Fuck

I just wrote a gritty big post on the crazies in this city and now it is forever gone because of a stupid, stupid, filthy computer button pushed accidentally. Fucking technology. I am most distraught.

Whoa

I just got back from watching this film. Talk about a punch in the gut! It's filmed in a documentary style by the actors and feels very real. People have compared it to the blair witch thing in the late '90s (style-wise, obv, not plot. And it is in color. And not gay). Go check it out. It is good.

Driven to join

Facebook.  After the constant stream of pressure from several friends from around the world to join either facebook or myspace I have finally given in.  Yes, am a bit disappointed in myself for finally jumping the cliff but you know what?  I just got in contact with friends I haven't seen in about a decade.  It is crazy shit, actually!  The bf is groaning at me whilst I type on the computer to another "friend."  He's all "I thought you'd never do this!" and "You're not going to become totally addicted, are you?"

I was always a bit of a snob when it came to facebook and myspace.  I thought it was too much effort and all these "friends" made me feel a bit odd.  Like what if all my "friends" have a million others and I'm stuck with the usual 2?  But fuck it.  Especially after a few people kept emailing me with "You have to get on [myspace or facebook] because otherwise you can't see my pictures and you are in loads of them!"  So, I've done it and it isn't that bad.  I quite like facebook, actually.  Except I am a bit daunted by all the doodads on people's profiles. 

I find these sites super easy to make fun of.  Really easy but I'm going to give it a rest and instead give it a go.  So, yes.  Facebook.  It's not just for American college kids anymore, apparently.  And I'm probably the last person to join.  Besides the bf.  He's still holding out.  But don't worry, he'll join 'the dark side' sooner or later... 

Overtime

Apparently working 9-5 ain't enough in the corporate world. Not surprising, obviously, but it's becoming a total grind on my Monday through Friday life. The girl I work with and I (we share the same position, oh joy) have been saddled up and brushed down for more than we can chew off, if y'know what I mean. I work very hard throughout the day and at 5 o'clock I'm going home to the gym and my bath (work the agression out and then tell myself everything is ok with hot water...).

Americans work really hard. And I am becoming suspicious about these so-called 'perks' the corporate yokes thrust at us from time to time to keep us momentarily happy. A reminder that we're the lucky people, the "chosen ones," if you will.

But it's all bullshit. Honestly, we only get 10 days of holiday a year. The French get something like 40 for chrissakes! And it is illegal for them to work over 35 hours a week! I am thinking about moving to France just for this. For real. I can speak passably bad French (hey, I'll improve). I can drive on the right side of the road (the same as Les Etats Unis, non?). I actually like Escargot (who does not like slugs smothered by garlic and butter? Who?). I could loosen my work ethic quite easily. Seriously, this wouldn't be a problem.

Operation Easy French Lifestyle In Progress.

Do not disturb me. *sulking off to lair* (i.e., the bath).

Holiday

A brief one but there was over a week spent abroad in the land of bangers and mash and pasties (the pastry kind not nipple). I have now crossed the pond 34 times in 7 and a half years. But it was the bf's first time in Big Ben Town. It was go-go-go the entire time to cram in 1000 years of history and sites. Obviously, we didn't get to everything. But there's always next time.

Now I'm pooing myself about the trip to Brazil next month. Am in the gym everyday to get fit for Copacabana beach. Or Ipanema. Christ, so much pressure! But if this is what my worries are I have nothing to moan about so it stops here.

Yes, travel. Hurrah, it's good stuff! Below is a massive spider taking over London. Otherwise known as art outside the Tate Modern. More photos from the trip can be viewed here.

Back!

I'm alive. No need to send out the online search party just yet. Seriously. Tell them to back off. I'm trying to cope with the busy-ness that is my life at the mo. Apparently, my job thinks I have morphed into 12 different people and can do 12 different jobs at 12 different times throughout the day. The fuckers. Free lunch in return. Big fat furry deal. I'd like the taxes that were taken out of my bonus back.

Anywho. London. Yes, it was excellent fun. Got a little rowdy and pissed, a bit whingy here and there about how ungodly expensive that place is. It doesn't matter. I still adore it.

Photos being uploaded as soon as I get a free second. Happy New Year, everyone! Apologies on the whingy post.