You know how on the plane they always give you way too much food, way too often, but you can't help but eat it all (down to the last cracker and cheese), because like, what else are you going to do?
So anyway, I arrived late, sweaty and flustered at Karen's house in Sydney (the taxi driver, the single worst of my life, dropped my sister and I off in the wrong place) - and I was thinking, oh no, she's such a sweetheart, she will have cooked us something amazing and I am SO FULL. I mean it. Stuffed. Don't need food.
Anyway, I think I'm making a name for myself - internationally no less - as the World's Worst House Guest. I turn up, flustered and lacking in charm, eat your delicious food, get slightly drunk and then pass out at 9pm before getting a taxi back to the airport at 3am - which means you need to get up to lock the door. I won't always do that exact combination of things, but similar - for instance, in Wellington, I drunkenly snuck in to my friend's house (albeit with her consent), borrowed her boyfriend's tent and left before she ever saw me. Oh and ate their bircher muesli and drank their excellent coffee. I am a true blue. (I think these kindhearted idiots must see me as some kind of 'long term investment' ... dear me!).
Anyway, back to important topics: dessert. Above: the pomegranate flavoured frozen yoghurt my sister bought me in Dubai airport. HOLY MOTHER OF GOD. Way to combine my top favourite things ever in one genius idea. Also, yeah, fresh blueberries, raspberries, blackberries and pomegranate seeds just sprinkled on top. The Middle East fucking rules and don't let anyone else ever tell you any different.
Well. Yes she was cooking us something, and let me tell you, Karen's potato greek salad was a) just what the doctor ordered anyway (fresh food!) and b) so good I forgot all about how full I was. Then I drank gin and tonic. Then I ate that piece of cake. Yep. I am the boss.
Anyway, I think I'm making a name for myself - internationally no less - as the World's Worst House Guest. I turn up, flustered and lacking in charm, eat your delicious food, get slightly drunk and then pass out at 9pm before getting a taxi back to the airport at 3am - which means you need to get up to lock the door. I won't always do that exact combination of things, but similar - for instance, in Wellington, I drunkenly snuck in to my friend's house (albeit with her consent), borrowed her boyfriend's tent and left before she ever saw me. Oh and ate their bircher muesli and drank their excellent coffee. I am a true blue. (I think these kindhearted idiots must see me as some kind of 'long term investment' ... dear me!).
Anyway, back to important topics: dessert. Above: the pomegranate flavoured frozen yoghurt my sister bought me in Dubai airport. HOLY MOTHER OF GOD. Way to combine my top favourite things ever in one genius idea. Also, yeah, fresh blueberries, raspberries, blackberries and pomegranate seeds just sprinkled on top. The Middle East fucking rules and don't let anyone else ever tell you any different.
Speaking of - see my window view of science-fiction Dubai below, featuring the Burj Khalifa tower and the Palm Islands.
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