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Wow, how hard is it to go back to work after a four day weekend, guys? I’m struggling today. It’s 3pm and I’ve just checked my frequent flyer points balance because what better way to get over the holiday blues (even a small one) than to book another holiday? Despite it only being a three day trip, our little rendezvous to Melbourne over Easter was fantastic – lots of rest, some touristing and most importantly, no shortage of deliciousness. .
I had a free pass last night! This doesn’t happen often. The last time I was out on a weeknight doing something not associated with work was September last year, I shit you not. But if I plan far ahead enough, sure I can take a night off. Last night’s occasion was a show at The State Theatre, Red Bull Flying Bach, where breakdance crew Flying Steps interpret Johann Sebastian Bach’s music in dance. It was pretty awesome, but what was more awesome was the fact that I Got To Eat Out. ON A WEEKNIGHT. .
Last weekend came and went in the blink of an eye. Don’t they always? On Saturday morning, we brunched at BangBang Espresso Bar & Cafe, a cute little place perched high atop the Reservoir Street hill in Surry Hills, a hill I’m all too familiar with trudging. But yet, I’d never actually been in BangBang and wow, my life is that much better now that I have. .
I don’t pass judgement on the things I eat based on whether they’re healthy or not. I simply eat things that I like, be it quinoa or burgers or um, an ice cream filled Krispy Kreme donut. If something’s healthy, I suppose in the deep recesses of my mind, it gets an extra brownie point, but in all honesty, I don’t ever eat something “just because it’s healthy”. Life is too short, people. .
steamed murray cod fillet, shaved abolone, snow peas, black fungi, ginger, green shallot vinaigrette I say this often, and I mean it even more often: I never ever associate my work with my social media. It’s not that I’m ashamed of what I do on social media, I just (a) know of people who’ve been busted talking about work on the Twittersphere and (b) I really don’t want to censor my potty mouth, just in case work people happen to see my feed. So even though work paid for Panu and I to have dinner at three hatted Est., I’m still not going to talk about it, in fear of being dooced one day. .
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