<<I am NOT a cheesy tart">>
A blueberry tart, perhaps?
Is there such a thing as a tobacco tart?
Speaking (most indirectly) of tarts, I got e-mail a few weeks back from a woman who used to work for a magazine I sometimes write for. She's now working for something called Restaurants Asia, and wanted to know if I was interested in doing a monthly piece for them. I leaped at the opportunity, with visions of dining in the finest available locations, saying snotty things about the pesto, and having chefs quivering before my feet awaiting my verdicts. First assignment just came through, and they want me to write about a local fast-food chain that is widely rumoured to produce burgers from a combination of sawdust and minced earthworms. Turns out it's a trade magazine, more interested in business than food.
Another illusion bites the dust. I'll still write it, though, as long as I don't have to eat the food.
Looking out the window a little anxiously, as there's supposed to be a huge typhoon right on top of us, according to all the weather reports. No wind, though, and it's barely raining. The ones they anticipate never happen; when they tell you it's going elsewhere you get demolished. The way of the world, third world anyway.
Steve
(PS Don't put all the blame on Freddy. I do provoke him mercilessly, and I suspect a few others have done the same...<g>) |
