And Merry Christmas and, eventually, a Happy New Year! It’s that time when I don’t have a day that’s not the birthday of a friend. Like my friends are competing with Christ or something (said the religious fearing Christian in me, awaiting lighting to strike).
I am sipping coffee from my brand new “Drama Queen” in capitals mug, getting ready for a day to complete my identity card and other tasks. In thirty minutes I will have to rush out the door, but until then I can browse old pictures and remember. I think Belfast and Strasbourg compete in my head for the title of “Most boring city I have ever visited”. Clean, civilized and plain boring. But maybe I am mistaken.
Taking advantage that my site is up, because you never know when your bandwidth can be exceeded, let me tell you a few things about “my” restaurants.
The “first” one is “an old one”, meaning that I wanted to write about it for a very long time now because of the bill at the Chinese restaurant, “’round the corner” for les conaisseurs, which literally lists the courses like this: E02, G02, G05, B12, C01, F01, water, Prigat, Pepsi. Enjoy!
The “second” one is the most expensive, well, my most expensive. A sort of all you can eat, only about 30 dollars per person. It’s called Churrascaria Carnivore and their wireless was not working when we were there.
If after Churrascaria I could barely move (read roll to the taxi), at Unirea’s food court shushi place I had the most expensive fast food. In my life. Half the price compared to the above mentioned, but my stomach was not even half full. More like half fool.
Now, let’s move to the Middle East. Not literally, only culinary. Both places I am talking about have an improvised decor, but the food was delicious. First one on my list Coin Vert, at the more expensive end, about 2o dollars, worth every penny, even for the service. The “second” one is Abu-Abdu, the final reason for these lines you’ve been reading. I was there last night for the first time. The food was excellent and the service passable, that is if you don’t mind eating in a cantina like atmosphere under the hawk eyes of the supervisor who literally has his desk in the “restaurant”. The fauna was remote and friendly and neighbourhood like. It’s right next door to my place, so I can picture myself there sometime soon
Now, credit goes to fellow bloggers who make me join them at times and get out of the house: vvritz, high low profile, was Transilvania and the nice co., the terribly late one, his gayness, the one and only. Thank you , I’ve had a great time every time.
Like instead of me? Like call Romer!can. Like write a post on how outraged I am about the lack of promotion for GayFest (that starts tomorrow). Like ask Mazi why she switched her blog to private. Like how much I enjoy listening to Kenneth Bager.
I am overwhelmed. I have also had an almost near death allergy situation this morning. Send me your money and good wishes. Thank you.
LATER EDIT: The ill repute Windows/Picasa habits die hard. I am still fighting, but it’s both frustrating and funny to post a picture the size of the above. I promise to get better real soon.
Because they feed your friends. They proofread your books. They want you home for Christmas, even when you plan differently. And the list goes on.
Reading. That is the advantage of traveling, when your plane is late beyond belief. Like the joke with the cops patrolling in pairs, one for reading and one for writing, I had all my bases covered. Five hours late(r) I had finished reading a book. For the time being bloguette007 was in charge with writing, in flesh, but there was little to write right then. Also, already done writing her piece was Anna Gavalda, with her I Wish Someone Were Waiting for Me Somewhere.
They say traveling is an experience, it opens your horizons, might even be a lesson. A simple mind could hastily conclude the more you are spending traveling the better you become, but that doesn’t go when it’s night an you are stuck in empty cold airport and you have actually finished reading your book.
If airport sleep deprivation was the cherry on the cake, it was a rotten one. But Barcelona, no connection whatsoever to my palatable reading, has pretty much made me feel so alive. If your cherry is rotten throw it away and enjoy the cake.
To quote lovely
bloguette007 as she was expressing herself post-Chemical Brothers, in the killing October rain and wind, while we were unsuccessfully looking for that elusive thing called taxi. Oh, and called so many times!
Dearest, how could you accuse me publicly I don’t know who Andy Fletcher is?! And yes, I enjoyed him better than the brothers. Music-wise.
I am definitely addicted to love. Being the attention whore that I am, Internet provides me with a fair share of love and affection. Yeap, Internet is thus an addiction in itself. Getting the fix, only makes me scream for more. So, what has lovingly happened over the web to generate the rambling above?
Somebody has bought two dot coms for me.
The bitch on duty has decided I am a solar kid, and the bleak template you are currently following is not me. Unfortunately, health issues have kept the terrorist on duty and his said mother confined to a bed in the infectious disease hospital. I’d like to take this opportunity to convey my get well wishes. The template is awaiting, bitch 
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I have received
the ultimate compliment “extra-witty dude; check out his blogroll too; note to self: unrecommended, if already 1 am, we need to wake up in the morning and the coffee is not strong enough” and the cutest name in
Faking life: Monosoux. To set the record straight (ooops, sorry kids, could not find any gay phrase!) I am also Dualsoux, and occasionally Multisoux. What can I say, it comes naturally when you are a Gemini.
To stick with the loving, I am honoured to star in this post and Gramos’ fantasies, I suspect in an intellectual kinda way. Guys, I have not forgotten my promise, just not doing well on time.
For the love’n'hate part, my beloved bloguette complains here I am not picking up my phone, but I did. Also an email exchange with Andressa about gay blogroll love not returned. Well, Simon’s final say on this matter is “When I don’t ask for love it doesn’t mean I don’t need it, it means I want it without having to ask for it”. I know, Simon doesn’t seem to be much of a problem solver. I guess I’ll just have that program management talk with him, the one I have been postponing, read avoiding.
Razorlight had one of those breakthrough performances at the festival: I remember liking it, but, since I don’t have them on my playlist, I cannot hum any of their tunes if you prompted me. Luckily, they resonate to my friends
daily life, and hence to mine.
The guy also has a killer body, at least for my taste, and shows it on stage. Now that in communication terms is recall, in capital letters As a consumer, I recall something else, something I didn’t like. In fact I was really bothered at the time. Photo reporters allowed in front of the stage were evacuated before the white shirt came off. That is OK. But photo reporters front row in the crowd were asked, and no so kindly, by guy in the Razorlight staff not to take pictures later on, during the performance. At some point with some insistence closely resembling anger and threat. That I didn’t like. For the Razorlight PR and staff, read the rules about on festival taking picture, and let the guys know before getting on stage and deploying you to horrid tasks amid the unsuspecting fans. And that brings me to awareness. We are all aware we look sometimes look our best, and we don’t necessarily look our best when we do our best. That is why many artist restrict and control the time reporters can take pictures during concerts. But that is during their own concerts, not necessarily festivals, where different rules apply . Are you aware of that? Anyway, I don’t think the right to one’s own image can justify violence of any kind. There are other options to consider, especially during artistic performances.
I hope that doesn’t sound like a big fuss. Looking back, I am certainly more relaxed about the whole thing.
I think my next post will be poll-like: “Should hot stars wax their armpits?”. Although I think hot guys and body hair sometimes go very well together.
Copyright © 2007 T0p D0g Reloaded. Darkwater Theme by Antbag.
