Saturday, May 30, 2009

shameless consuption

But before the mass gastronomic indulgence...something cute:

Deger saved a bird. Little twat was bashing her head into parking garage walls trying to escape, despite obvious windows and ways out, EVERYWHERE. Bird-brain. Odds are the little wench didn't appreciate Deger's awesomeness. So let's all appreciate on the bird's pea-brained behalf. All together now: AWWWWWWWW.

Now onto BRUNCH! We headed to a cute little place across the pond from Irish Village. (I have no idea what it's called.) And unlike the other ostentatious brunches where vats of gourmet grub go stale all day long, here you order one little dainty taste at a time, and they make each plate fresh. Genius.

Glam with sauce, delivered in dainty little portions, and as many as we want. Life's really rough sometimes.

duck won ton! Almost as cute as the ones still swimming around the pond outside, but way more delicious. And that's not pesto. It's dill-sto.

Deger and his mom check out a pre-wonton duck. For some reason he seems to be terrified of the water. (The duck, not Deger. Although Deger might be scared of the pond too.) He also doesn't seem to recognize the significant irony of the moment. (Again the duck, not Deger.)

And then off to Madinat to chill and digest. And by chill, of course I mean sweat.

Arab lights are neat, especially when the ceiling doesn't bother to block out the sky.

Canal side beer + shisha + beanbags = the perfect way to hunker down for the post-brunch recovery and enjoy the last few days of hot but bearable outdoor temperatures.


Meet Mo.

The chill, Arab teddy bear. Mo thinks he's an amazing dancer. Really, he's a bit uncoordinated.


Oh! Reflections!

What's a better way to end the day than a Strawberry Dacari at Trader Vics?
A dual strawberry Dacari slurp-off at Trader Vics with Veeeeee!

Full Moon Beach Party at Atlantis.
aka, snob-fest, kinda trying to be like the one in Thailand (so I hear), without the fun hippie travelers, and with too many stilettos, and silocon body parts. I have no idea why the women here insist on hooching themselves up, in order to sink their 3-inch heels into sand. But at least there were enough NORMAL people around in flip flops to sorta balance things out. A bottle of beer should NEVER cost that much though, especially when the bar makes you wait half an hour for change. I don't care WHAT city you're in. It's a BEACH party for Christ-sake, not the Oscars. make me cry a little bit on the inside.

Roommates, Leon and Benoit, didn't seem to mind though.

At least they had fire breathing and twirling minsrals to entertain the latent pyro inside all of us. (I wonder if they still have eyebrows.)

Another weekend, another gastronomic orgy
It's not a meal. It's an epic-Arab-seafood-extravaganza. Just the appetizers alone could have kept me satisfied for a week. Mmmmm...hummus.

One small tidbit amongst the abundance. Let's call it "Becky" just for fun. Becky here has been deep fried to a crisp, head still attached. Perfect for rapid munching and nonchalant decapitation. I ate her. Other folks at the table ate "Beckys" by the handful. Crunchy!

This giant prawn seems to have already lost this battle. The euphoric Delaney might be responsible.

Is that a mosque mole?
Post-seafood face-stuffing, we headed over to Lime Tree Cafe. It's good to walk these things off before you proceed to sit again. On the way we spied a flying hamburger balloon. Yes, Islam and American hamburger propaganda share the same prayer-filled sky.