(no subject)
Spent a most gratifying weekend with my very female, very young and
very upwardly-mobile Deloitte posse. Caught Millions which was a very
pretty show and the week earlier, some french flic from the ongoing SF film fest.
to satisfy my francophilia. Was trying to coerce pple to join me on
another film francais on Francois Mitterrand, but i guess that was
pushing it too far since no one would even hear me out..
Convinced that i'm returning home really soon (havn't bought tix yet though), I've gone on a rampage of sorts around the city. Indulged in cafes upon hills and restaurants along the water while going nuts around Hayes valley scouring little boutiques of overpriced foreign imports.
Along the way i picked up some shampoo and miracle whitening toothpaste with money that would no doubt be better spent on food, clothes and water for Somalian children.
The shampoo, i'm relieved to say really does work wonders. The toothpaste though, is kinda suspect. Its so futuristic, it comes in 2 seperate tubes for AM and PM usage. While the "citrus & peppermint" infused am tube tastes, smells and no doubt foams like my previous Crest from Kmart the PM one is kinda nauseating with its "camomile aromatic oils". there i am trying to fall asleep, and my mouth is more fragrant than my recently laundered sheets. it's as though i've swallowed potpurri, and its not pleasant. I'm keeping a photo diary of the shades of my teeth to chart the efficacy of this mumbo jumbo. Afterall, according to the good Dr. Jonathan B levine D.M.D (Cornell and Boston), its supposed to bring my teeth 6 shades lighter. and should it not work, and should my state of unemployment and resentment at such Successes-In-Life persist, I could always sell my sad tale to FOX news.
Wrapped up the weekend with tiramisu at Steps of Rome. and god, the HOT MEN. i can't say i'm one to ogle, but seriously, its as though the criteria for working there is being HOT (i can't even seem to spell this in non-caps, it just doesnt do justice), inability to speak english, having names like Paulo and Antonio, and a penchant for taking off your shirt and dirty dancing with a suspiciously large number of birthday girls. Not only do they tango with clients, breathe steamily into your ear while holding the small of your back to ask you to move your chair over, they also smear birthday cake and lick it off your breasts. on the bar top. somethign i definitely will not be seeing in singpaore.
Convinced that i'm returning home really soon (havn't bought tix yet though), I've gone on a rampage of sorts around the city. Indulged in cafes upon hills and restaurants along the water while going nuts around Hayes valley scouring little boutiques of overpriced foreign imports.
Along the way i picked up some shampoo and miracle whitening toothpaste with money that would no doubt be better spent on food, clothes and water for Somalian children.
The shampoo, i'm relieved to say really does work wonders. The toothpaste though, is kinda suspect. Its so futuristic, it comes in 2 seperate tubes for AM and PM usage. While the "citrus & peppermint" infused am tube tastes, smells and no doubt foams like my previous Crest from Kmart the PM one is kinda nauseating with its "camomile aromatic oils". there i am trying to fall asleep, and my mouth is more fragrant than my recently laundered sheets. it's as though i've swallowed potpurri, and its not pleasant. I'm keeping a photo diary of the shades of my teeth to chart the efficacy of this mumbo jumbo. Afterall, according to the good Dr. Jonathan B levine D.M.D (Cornell and Boston), its supposed to bring my teeth 6 shades lighter. and should it not work, and should my state of unemployment and resentment at such Successes-In-Life persist, I could always sell my sad tale to FOX news.
Wrapped up the weekend with tiramisu at Steps of Rome. and god, the HOT MEN. i can't say i'm one to ogle, but seriously, its as though the criteria for working there is being HOT (i can't even seem to spell this in non-caps, it just doesnt do justice), inability to speak english, having names like Paulo and Antonio, and a penchant for taking off your shirt and dirty dancing with a suspiciously large number of birthday girls. Not only do they tango with clients, breathe steamily into your ear while holding the small of your back to ask you to move your chair over, they also smear birthday cake and lick it off your breasts. on the bar top. somethign i definitely will not be seeing in singpaore.