Everything is sooooo off kilter this morning. My stomach hurts and my eyes hurt…but my head is okay, so long as I don’t move too quickly in any one direction. I’m craving a hot chicken roll very badly which, for a vegetarian, is weird in itself. I have to leave for work in about 15 minutes, and when I get there (in about an hour, because I live at one woop-woop end of Perth and work at the other), I’m going to be there for six fucken hours on my own, and I might try to suicide in the sushi machine or something. Or I’ll just hate on customers all afternoon. And I appear to have shrunk: my workshort is excessively too large. I’ve had to check a few times to see that I’m wearing the right thing, because it just doesn’t feel right. And I know my workpants are around here somewhere but it’s so far beyond my ability right now to even think about looking for them, that I’m just going in jeans, and will probably get in trouble. I love my jeans.
I think I’m actually just craving the bread and mayonnaise in a hot chicken roll. I might go enquire as to whether they’ll make one for me at Chicken Treat. Yeh. Best idea ever.
Erin + cocktails + credit card = bad mistake.
The chilli cocktail tasted like one of those chilli Tim Tams that they brought out earlier this year. It wasn’t that good. BUT good news is, we chose the best night to be at Box: the Face of Perth competition was on, so we got free drinks on entry, and hors d’ouvres (spelling..?), and a private function room, and oyster shots, and we weren’t even part of the celebrations! And a friend-of-a-friend happened to be in the comp, and came runner up. Go Ali!
Mrrmr grumble, sushi bars await. If you’re thinking of buying sushi from any major south-of-the-river shopping complexes today, please don’t. I can’t handle your custom.
