Tuesday, April 14, 2009

can we go back to eating cheese now?

So I spent Easter pretty much like how I spent Christmas. It was just another day. (Christmas was spent in Buenos Aires though; slightly more exotic than Craighall.)

Did go to a restaurant though, order their finest thermidor and a glass of house, for lunch.

When dining alone, always take a book. I’m learning fast. Otherwise people automatically assume you’re lonely and are desperate for conversation. When all you wanna do is be left alone, to watch other people and talk to yourself.
(Under your breath. Talk all you want, but keep it down. Learn from the pro. Otherwise you will definitely get unwanted attention. Possibly from the other demented dude who is singing on the corner.)

Like any mad person; we need our peace and quiet. And that’s what I got.

I spent a bit of this weekend imbibing wine with friends in various locations and one offered me one of those Caramel Cream eggs everyone is hyperventilating about.

Firstly, chocolate in very small doses is average. It’s just OK. If I was stranded on an island and couldn’t see chocolate for a year I’d be crazily fine. Some people need chocolate like they need Carrol Boyes salad servers. (Please. No more fucking Carrol Boyes. Please.)

I need cheese, or else I die and slow painful death. Camembert and brie, tubs full of those bad boys.

Whatever, so I ate this egg. To see what all the fuss was about, and immediately hit the ceiling with blood sugar levels reaching fever pitch and one mother of a migraine.

Sorry, but it’s total overkill. People give this to children? Five could kill a grown man. That dark Lindt stuff is the way forward, with a cappuccino. Like they serve you at Vida.
So I spent much of my weekend doing the usual: wanking, cleaning, watching Playboy Girls marathons and reading this fuck off interesting biography of this woman who fled her Amish life. She grew up in one of the strictest Amish sects in America.

I read hectic biographies ok. The one about Fritzl, the one about the Belgian girl who escaped her paedophile’s cellar, and now this.

Crossing Over it’s called. She fell in love with a dude from ‘the outside’ and fled to Kentucky full of lust and wonton, (bless), while these Amish folk tried to hunt her down and manipulate her back into the clan. Not so bless.


Dude. She didn’t shave her legs until she was 21 and en route to another state, with an electric razor in the getaway vehicle.

The excitement for our trip – in 10 days – is climbing to a crescendo to the point of implosion.
Dove and I are going to be like The Kerrigans inThe Castle. People that have never flown somewhere before, basically. (‘We got two choices for deener, Ded, and we watched Jumanji.’)
Or worse, like Kevin & Perry Do Ibiza or whatever (‘All I wanna do is do it.’) We’re going to be embarrassing. I can just see it. The excitement is going to be embarrassing. Come nexxxt week Friday, we’ll be swinging off the oxygen masks, taking pictures and generally being juvenile chavs.
I’m now starting to imagine those nubile German chaps clad in their little skinny jeans, and I’m starting to find it sexual.

Shit. WTF is going ON?

I’m thinking a bunch of Aryans packing pecker into jeans that Pete Wentz wears, is suddenly sexy now.

Christ, I have German fever so badly at the moment, I really honestly don’t know what to do with myself. I’ve always loved German men, but this is ridiculous.
Nothing is helping. And I mean nothing. I’ll let you in on one secret: I have the hots for 3 German individuals at the moment.
Not one, three.
Three is better than one. More options. Splits my time too.

So I’m thinking about each German man in the bedroom for most of the weekend, except one brief period when a friend told me she got caught picking her nose the other day.

She hates the word ‘wanking’ (why? Seriously, how could you hate a word that brings so much self-pleasure?), and I cannot stand the thought of someone picking their nose and eating it.
Eating Snot. That is the worst thought I can ever think of ever. Ever. God help me I’m going to vomit.

Are we all animals? Seriously are we all cave creatures that haven’t had society bang this out of us? Someone pass the cotch bucket. It kills me. She was joking about eating it, but not about the initial diamond digging.

That image should improve my ‘get smoking hot for Germany’ diet quite a bit.


tyrone said...

Peas. You horny little devil.

So were you at Vida in Rosebank on Sat? Thought it was you but not 100% sure.

Revolving Credit said...

Do Amish people wank??

tyrone said...

Secretly, they probably do it in groups.

Peas on Toast said...

tyrone - DUDE! I was like, 'he looks just like Tyrone!' And I kind of squizzled, but didn't want to stare at you/this person in case you thought I was a crazy bastard, so I just assumed it wasn't you. Hahaha hilarious! :)

Rev - shit, good question! All I can say is that if I was Amish, I would wank. Would you?

Tyrone - like a...circle jerk?

tyrone said...

A circle jerk. Exactly. But shhh, don't tell anyone! And if I was Amish I'd definitely wank.

Hell, I can't think of any reason I wouldn't.

FUNNY. I was thinking the same thing... "Don't stare at her. If it isn't Peas, you'll seem like a lewd, dirty stalker. If it is, you'll still seem like a lewd, dirty stalker. And don't say hi in case it isn't and she'll think, NICE PICK-UP LINE DUDE!"

Ha ha!

Jam said...

Chocolate is so TOTALLY overrated.
Sorry about no phone call...was having a hermit weekend.
Pass the cheese.

Peas on Toast said...

tyrone - seriously, hahahahaha! Looks like you were on une petite coffee date as well ;) (she was hot bro), so wouldn't want her to think I was eyeballing her dude, see :)

Jam - hermitting ion cheese, don't worry babe, I was exactly the same. I spent more time on my couch than in my bed this last weekend! But soon would be awesome :) xx

Revolving Credit said...

Wanking and eating cheese = A cheese fondoodle

Peas on Toast said...

Rev you're ruining my cheese dream. Please. Just give me cheese. Without the fondoodle. I beg you.

kyknoord said...

Bluh. Those eggs don't provide quite the intense sugar rush that Happy Hippos do. My ex-girlfriend tried to kill me with the damned things.

Peas on Toast said...

Death by sugar. China, strychnine is so 1977. Sugar is the new cyanide.

icepick said...

Lindt, and deep fried Camembert!! Godam. Yes.

Peas on Toast said...

icepick...in a cranberry coulis! Fuck yes! :)

tyrone said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
tyrone said...

ha ha! know what's funny? she thought you were hot too.

maybe you two should hook up?

only if i can watch of course.

Peas on Toast said...

tyrone - hahah, HECTIC!

This conversation about 10 years ago, would've been really really wierd.


tyrone said...

SO weird. And taboo.

Anyways. Shows how the Net is changing social interaction completely. And how it can effect everything we do. Even coffee in Rosebank.

Peas on Toast said...

haha exactly :)
How hilarious. There I was minding my own business waiting for N and check it outttt!

So give me the scoop - is she your girlfriend/wife/sister/wife to be??

Miss T said...

sorry but I'm a chocolate freak...man i miss those marshmallow eggs. You know the box of 48? Can't get them here :(

Peas on Toast said...

Miss T - don't worry babe, I hear you're not alone. If I'm ever back in Dublin (which I may just be this year - will keep you posted), I'll bring over a box for you. :)

tyrone said...

None of the above. Just a good friend. But she is hot, I have to agree.

Peas on Toast said...

Tyrone - well it's always handy to have a hot friend, definitely ;)

tyrone said...

Damn right. Having a hot lass on your arm is ALWAYS a good thing.

Good for the ego. Good for the soul. Good for making exes jealous.

If you get it right, it's even good for sex.

The Seeker said...

On a more serious note... ;-)If you liked reading the book about the Amish - you might like reading the biography of Carolyn Jessop, who also has an amazing story of how she escaped from a fucked up mormon sect... very interesting reading... :-)