Home is just emotion sticking in my throat

Stayed home out of the sun today. Had to lay down in darkened room after the cake I ate for lunch, blood sugar was detonated out of control.

Lunch

Richard and I went to Ice Box for lunch because I had already had a healthy fruit salad for breakfast.

So I thought I would ruin a fantastic start by having cake for lunch. My food has gone badly wrong since Richard got here, I am glad he is leaving on Wednesday so I can get it back together again before coming home on Saturday. Obviously Richard is responsible for what I am putting in my mouth, there is no other explanation.

I ordered Peanut Butter and Chocolate cake for lunch which was kind of a mistake. It was not so much a cake as a block of butter. It tasted good at first but it was too much after a while.

I even left some which I never ever do.

Richard had a holy mess in the name of steak and eggs. It took ages to arrive and was covered in home made chips. American cafes try to make their own crisps which is a mistake as the only good crisps come out of bags from factories. It's not something you can make at home because they are always too soggy and so fail miserably at the first hurdle.

So anyway we hated everything. We think icebox is only good for cakes (coconut). It's expensive, crowded, food took ages and we are not going back. So there.

Tra La La La La

I am at my most brown. At school in typing class (giving away age here) we used to do typing exercises to Brown Girl In The Ring by Boney M. It was funny I didn't like school or attend much but I did enjoy typing class. We used to have this book of the text we were copying and we would sing the first line and then tap tap tap tap tap the tra la la la la la bit and do a really aggressive carriage return to plum plum.

I went on a date (I really try not to date as I find it acutely disturbing) with this idiot man who took me to see a movie called Into The Void which was about a mountaineering acident and the man was hearing this song as he was going in and out of conciousness. It was the weirdest date movie choice ever (before that one about the man who cuts his own arm off anyway)

Those who can't teach ...

We saw Bad Teacher last night it has mixed reviews but is very very funny. We love Cameron and have elected her onto our comittee of backers. (follow link for full and clear explanation of concept) anyway the film was especially amusing to us because Camerons approach to teaching is similar to mine.
She doesn't know anyones name, hates the institution she works for, hates most co workers, fills in time showing movies or clips from You Tube and she is only motivated by money and holidays. Roll on September.

Temptor

Richard is a bad influence. Today I already had eggs on toast ( and I have a wheat allergy) and a Quesadilla (more wheat, cheese, avocado and black beans) Carbicide. I am screwed. I have 3 days to detox after he is gone.

I'm dancing barefoot

Such a lazy day today so far. We had breakfast in Ballans where the air conditioning was broken. They had a huge fan in the resturant instead that was blowing the toast across the room as the waitresses brought the food. It was like a scene from The Wizard Of Oz.  We then went to the beach and Richard dropped me off at 6th while he went into Equinox Gym on Collins and 1st. By the time he collected me 90 minutes later I already practically had sunstroke. It was so hot but I love getting a tan so I am willing to suffer it. When he came back we walked down to the gay section of the beach. Richard doesn't like to be on the mixed sections for long. Obviously the gay section in Miami Beach is the busiest section of the whole beach but we do see people he knows there so thats always nice. One thing I noticed as we walked down Collins Avenue was the size of the cocktails that the resturants serve. They do this one where it is a huge glass of Marguerita with two up turned bottles of Spanish Beer sticking out of like cocktail sticks. Hideous but there was a time when that would have looked like a pretty good idea. The last drink I had was a Marguerita, straight up, salt and no ice at The Wosley in Piccadilly. I knew it was my last drink, I hadn't quite lost the power to choose but I knew I would so in the manner of the exception that proves the rule. I had just the one.

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