I mean, there are various problems inherent in this eating business.
a) Not many girls are foodies due to the fact that most are watching their figures (I'm Singaporean, and I'm a fat bitch, so I don't care)
b) We are but poor students, and unfortunately, all of us DO NOT go through a collective stage of broke-ness together.
c) We also do not go through a collective urge to eat a certain cuisine on a certain day
d) we have lives outside of eating, and each other
e) very few of us drive. and those who do, are (duh) the busy ones.
Gerri feels like French, I do not like French ANYTHING. The only French things I do eat are escargots, foie gras, good pate (not the Aussie stuff), non-salty caviar and croissants. I don't even like French champange. Bah.
I mean, a steak is a steak is a steak. Maybe I haven't eaten enough French. But unless it's uniquely French I see no all-consuming need to eat French. (except for the escargots)
This means that while I'll mainly be grazing on entree, she wants to go for the whole hog.
Her high-class French-eater compatriot is back home in Hong Kong eating even better French, so she's stuck.
I feel like vegetarian. Gerri calls me a rabbit. END OF STORY
I want to go outside the city to eat. No one wants to come because it's too far and they have big days tomorrow. Or. I'm too busy and it breaks my heart that they've gone eating at a place I've been dying to try for the last 2 years and there's no way of getting there except by car.
I want to go out to eat. Everyone else is too darned broke.
I feel like seafood. It's expensive shit. and most people have been where I want to go. and some people are allergic to seafood.
YOU SEE? The eating experience is fraught with disaster.
I came up with a devious plan one day, such is my devotion to food.
I shall turn myself into the antithesis of all I hold dear and true. I shall turn into a shu nu. A rebonded hair super deh pink-loving girl, taking deh-ness up to new levels of taoyan-ness. I shall emulate Zhang Ziyi in
I shall pout, adopt a whiny tone, make annoying whiny noises. I shall give little sneers, I shall rebond my hair! I will wear skinny-leg jeans and carry Dior saddlebags and Gucci totes. I will be fake! I will pile on the makeup! I will turn into a skinny bitch!
You know how Tom Cruise controls his girlfriends? Well yes. Like that.
All this so that I will snare some poor unsuspecting
fool boyfriend and make him carry my Gucci tote/Pink Dior saddlebag. I shall make sure he DRIVES. and then everytime he doesn't want to go where I want to go and eat, I shall simply either forcefully whack him with my shopping bags and create a huge scene in a crowded area to create maximum humiliation, or I shall start crying.
I shall learn tips from Gerri on how to cry at will. I will DISSOLVE. Yes, DISSOLVE into a puddle of tears. Then I will start whining in a really pathetic voice "You don't love me enough to drive me to Perth for dinner!!!!! BOO HOOO"
again. this shall occur in a really crowded public place so it looks like my boyfriend made me cry.
Between all these psychotic episodes. I shall be the ultimate shu nu. I will cater to his every whim, I will let him have his LAN gaming sessions for months in a row. I will let him upgrade his car to that heinous souped up level where there are blue brake lights, afterall, it will match my newly skinny figure and rebonded hair and deh attitude. Those cars don't carry anything more than 45 kilos in the passenger seat didn't you know? Otherwise there will be a serious LAG due to the amout of finely-tuned modifications he has made.
And then one day, I shall dump him for a socially inept heir who's quite happy to have a trophy girlfriend among his harem of women who are all after one thing, His MONEY.
AHHHH. you say. but there is one problem. "How do you expect to stay skinny when you're eating so much and getting chauffeur-slaves, erm, I mean boyfriends to drive you around????
But you see, I've got that covered too.
In true fashion, I shall do a variety of slimming-tactics.
I shall become anorexic, bulimic, and I shall eat laxatives with every meal and I will also take slimming pills such as Xenical. Sure I'll be leaking oil, but he doesn't have to know that.
So you see? It's the perfect plan to getting someone to cater for all your foodie needs.
Get a shu-nu-bitch companion boyfriend. QED. Ya-hear? because it's worth it.