… and I Didn’t Even Throw Up

We’ve been a little low on money over the last couple of months.

Regardless of finances, though, I was determined to take hubby to the ’31 Days of Chocolate’ event at the local Sebel (Bistro Allure, for anyone who’s interested). Because we share a deep love – of chocolate and other sweet and fatty things.




So much chocolate.

Chocolate cake, chocolate gateau, chocolate icecream, chocolate pudding, chocolate sauce, chocolate mousse, chocolate tarts, chocolate pieces… ummm, yeah, lots of chocolate. And a banana cake, for some reason. The only fruit available was thinly sliced on top of… you guessed it? Chocolate.

One vaguely scary thing was the clientele. Women. Wall-to-wall women. As hubby pointed out, though, it’d be a crap place for a man to try to pick up. He’d have to compete with the chocolate.

It’s funny, you know? I looked around, and I couldn’t help feeling just a little bit guilty that there were millions of people starving in the world, and I was about to sit down to a completely non-nutritious meal of fat and sugar. Consumerism gone mad?

Then I figured – what the hell, I’d paid now. So I started eating. Bahaaha!

Most of the way through our ‘meal’, I was flagging. Still hungry, but over it. So, I made a sudden decision.

Stuff the chocolate, I wanted hot chips!

I ordered hot chips, to the amusement (and envy, I bet) of the women at the table next to us.

YUM. Bistro Allure does damn good chips – but they don’t do many. However… it was the perfect amount. I polished them off (with much help from hubby) and went back to the chocolate buffet.

And now, for some strange reason, I’m craving fruit.


3 Responses

  1. Sounds like perfection to me! I am about to trawl the internet and find out when something like this is being held in Brisbane…… Although if I do find out that it is happening here and then I go and then get on the scales, we might not be e-friends anymore!

  2. Tamsyn – This is in Brisbane, at the Sebel in the city. Finishes Saturday, though!

  3. i never feel guilty about starving people somewhere else when I’m eating my favorite foods. A) it is not my job to take care of them B) this stuff is too dee-lishus to share (and probably wholly bad for them) and C) what am I gonna do, make them a doggie bag?

    there’s a laundry-list of complicated reasons why they, whoever they are, cannot eat. I can, and it behooves me as a resource-consuming, foreigner-exploiting American to do so with gusto and passion. “Don’t just eat a cheeseburger,” the sages tell us, “eat the hell out of it!”

    so i do.

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