Christmas ~ a time for celebrating the birth of Christ, a time to gather with family, a time to share the wonders of a white Christmas or for those in the Southern Hemisphere, the wonders of shrimp on a barbie.
But for me, too far from home and having no such religious inclination (I’m busy enough what with my worship of all things edible and spend Sunday mornings eating not praying), Christmas doesn’t appeal to me in the same way as it does some others ~ as a highly spiritual and loving time when families far and wide gather to eat turkey (or tofurkey as it may be in this day and age) and drink eggnog. Or vodka.
For me, Christmas is an excuse. An excuse to eat, cook, bake and sleep in. And further more, it’s an excuse to wear green and red at the same time because damned if I’m gonna be caught wearing that at any other day of the year.
Read the full post here…
.
The word “Interflora” is one that arouses in me a number of different emotions. Flowers, romance, love, envy, disappoinment, failure… just to name a few.
I’ve always worked in an office environment and don’t be pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about. When the receptionist calls to say someone’s received a bouquet of flowers from anonymous (because the receptionist never knows who it’s from) and the lucky girl walks off in an air of feigned aloofness, suddenly turning her slow stroll into a dash as soon as she’s out of sight.
When she comes back, a bundle of floral delights in tow, we all oooh and ahhh and gush over the bouquet of roses! lillies! everything! and thoughtfully chirp along with each other about oh, your man, he’s so romantic. You’re sooo lucky! when all we’re really thinking is, fuck. Why doesn’t my man ever send me flowers to the office?
Oh, right I know. Because I seem to have a knack for finding men who, well no it’s not that they don’t buy me flowers, but they are ever so misguided as to think that having flowers delivered to the office is unromantic. That it would be oh so much more romantic to be given flowers in person. After work. At a romantic dinner.
How wrong they all were.
Guys. Read it here and read it now.
It ain’t about romance. It’s a fricking competition so please. Help us win, send us flowers to the office.
Read the full post here…
.
I think it goes without saying that the power of uncooked cookie dough is vastly under-rated in the world of consumer behaviour. How its floury, grainy, brown sugary texture feels pressed hard up against my mouth.. {shudder} I’m getting all hot and bothered just thinking about it.
Add to that a complete over estimation of chocolate chips and the cookie dough truly becomes a source to be reckoned with.
Read the full post here…
.
