Wednesday, June 15, 2011
I am a hamburger for the next few days.
Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd say.
I touched down in Hamburg last night and set about finding myself a decent sized sausage and/or schnitzel, and realised with horror: I couldn't.
I'm on a fiercely regimented [Germanic? Maybe?] 'Carbs Are The Antichrist' dieting regime at the moment.
After not fitting into a dress over the weekend, coupled with the fact that I no longer have the metabolism of a 20 year old apparently [Gak! Fuck! Bring it back!], I have deleted complex carbohydrates from my life.
Besides, my mate is on Atkins, so if she can do it, I bloody well can.
But the immediate problem with being in Germany is this: have you seen what Germans eat?
Dude. Pretzels the size of my plate; potatoes with a GI higher than a giraffe's ass. Meat that is fried in breadcrumbs.
My mouth has filled with saliva as I write this, as I'd fucking LOVE to smash a bratwurst in my face right now - for breakfast - but no.
Last night I wondered around the centre of town, looking for a fucking saladerie. (Is there even such a thing? If not, did I just give away an ingenious business idea? "Carbs Are Satan, Find A Saladerie, Fool?")
So I ducked into this restaurant that sold an array of Northern sea fish and eight types of schnitzel, and ordered the salad.
Then I realised with horror that the salad may actually kill me.
In all seriousness, there's an E.Coli infestation happening in Hamburg as we speak/I write.
AND women are mostly infected by it, and hundreds of people have died already.
And the problem? Glad you asked.
The E.Coli virus sits in fucking TOMATOES and CUCUMBERS.
What do you reckon the main ingredients in my salad were?
When do you reckon I remembered about the E. Coli infestation?
That's right. After I had finished the fucking salad.
If you never hear from me again, you know why.
In other news, Hamburg is nice.
Clean, efficient, filled with Hamburgers. As one might expect.