Seems safe, hey?
Not safe enough.
One now craves, craves, and CRAVES Betty's way retro chocolate fridge cake (not a euphemism, an actual cake) and is probably insanely lucky, blood sugar and insulin level-wise that is, that the hotel room does not come with a kitchen.
One has however yet again eaten the best chocolate since Finland - Cilla, Bateleur Investments Ltd. of Chisamba Zambia - but luckily only the one piece left on the pillow as a result of gross overtipping of the maid.
One is now almost forced to drink lots of wine to curb the sugar rush. Poor one.
2 comments:
Look, as far as the spit thing goes, I thought it would be neigbourly to... well, share my knowledge. Like telling someone they have spinach in their teeth or they hitched their skirt up with their pantyhose and is going about with their bum sticking out in an unattractive way. I always wish for such neigbourliness when I get home from dinner and there is still spinach stuck between my teeth. But such brutal honesty is not for everyone. So sorry.
About the cake, however, I have zero remorse. And right back at ya, actually, on the wine thing. Honestly, up till about five minutes ago I was not going to drink today. What was I thinkig?
Okay, perhaps you've got a point there, but I tell you, I'd much rather be picking spinach off my teeth than this. Will repress the whole ordeal now and only order things that come in still sealed containers. It'll be like it never happened...
Yup, devising ways of preparing the cake in a hotel room, without a stove, without any kind of utensils or bowls, and without a fridge actually. I think I'll have to rechristen it way gross bathroom sink cake.
Enjoy your wine!
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