The Wordporium released some important
hot air words into the atmosphere on Thursday, and La Triv got an early mark.
Got a chance to see that Jigsaw’s back to doing what — aside from a couple of out-of-the-ordinary seasons — it does best: frumpy Mother-of-the-Bride pastel chic.
Not sure how closely you follow coverage of NSW politics *yawns* but impending funding cuts mean the Copperati are more (choose your own wordplay cliché) under the gun / in the crosshairs / staring down the barrel than ever, particularly with all the glassing and king-hits going on among the youngfolk. Appears they’ve had to call for out-of-town reinforcements.
La wondered into Zimmermann. Always a visual feast, if a little Bondi-babe-meets-Maypole-dancer-meets-Pigalle-hooker at times. Cottaged and frottaged up to this floral loveliness.
Might look a bit MOTB, but really quite gorge.
Come Saturday night, Signor Seriousimo and I lived on the edge and popped out for a 6.15 dinner. (Home by 8.30. Crazy times here.) Went to one of our long-time favourites, Fish Face in Darlinghurst.
Do these fellas look scared to you?
But we resistsed — in manner of James Bond, those crabbies will die another day. SS opted for scallops (“You just can’t beat a good scallop”) and I went for kingfish tartare. Delicioso.
Crabs and eggs are becoming a common theme here at La online home. Female JCC and I are engaged in an ongoing Pepsi challenge to find the best eggs. So far nothing beats these:
…but they are rare as hen’s teeth (boom boom!). So we’re working our way through a selection of others. Many factors are taken into account when judging, but the most prominent one is, I’m sorry to say, faecal.
And that’s about as rural as we get around these parts.