So I had had so many bad feather days in a row that the cocopops tasted like cauliflower. You know the feeling. Even the news that the book we're editing is going to be ready for print soon, felt nothing. The announcement of the brilliant work plans for the next year made me stare the wall. The sunshine made me visualize my upcoming bad-bikini-day. The buses were on time and there was nothing to complain about and it made me mad. Well, the rise made me smile. Little.
So I went to the shop to buy food. What to do with the extra money, I thought. Should I buy new jeans, I wondered and put a cheese on the trolley. Should I cut my hair, I pondered, and bought some pineapple-orange-apple-passion-banana-juice. Or would it be good to finally buy the two plates, I thought and placed two rhubarb pies over the cheese. Maybe I should get horribly drunk, I pictured whilst lifting up 8 kilos of dog food. Maybe buying shampoo for the rest of the year would do the same I thought and saw a lovely red-veined sorrel. Or should I buy a plane ticket instead I heard myself asking from the Fuji Pinks.
There was a man looking at me speaking to the apples. He was smiling. I smiled back. I bought some grapefruits. The man, who could have been Chris Cornell's long lost brother from Cyprus, bought grapefruits too. I walked to see the breads. He wanted to see the breads too. I rushed to the bananas. He sent me a kiss and I accidentally bought two kilos of fair trade fruits. I think he noticed I don't live alone, so he left and I went to pay. 75 Euros and 30 cents. Damn.
About Bourdain - To be honest, I’ve met rather too many chefs who were trying a little too hard to be Anthony Bourdain, whose death was announced today; some of them ended ...
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