NaBloPoMo – Day Twenty Nine.

29 11 2007

Two more posts. Two more posts. Two more posts. Two more posts.

So… how’s November been for you… hope it’s been as bloody exhausting as mine…

That’s nasty of me… I take that back.

Naughty LaLa.

Anyhoo… yesterdays post got me thinking about drunk food and Tjo’s comment made me wonder what is considered drunk food in other countries.

Tjo’s wrote: “We don’t really have late night curry around these parts… just pizza, falafels & Chinese. You can find noodles and chicken balls strewn all over downtown on Saturday morning if you’re, say, walking home from somwhere around 7 am…”

I am not a big fan of eating once I am drinking I usually just want another drink… however I usually get something when someone else points me in that direction.

In Australia I would say it would have to be the humble old kebab or a curry. And they wrap those fucking kebabs so tight that one night I was just getting mouthfuls of paper (Hi Schmoopy)… so I chucked the whole thing into someones front yard.

Oops.

Maybe kebabs are very Sydney orientated because I know in Toowoomba for ages all we had open late at night was Subway, I have a vivid memory of buying a six inch meatball sub and then swinging it around in that big long plastic bag they put them in, prompting a guy to say “So you know how to swing a 6 inch Julia?”

How random… standing in front of a pub, pissed, with a sub in your hand.

But then a few years ago old Charcoal Chicken started opening up late at night… I once watched about 3 pissed people masticate a chicken with their hands on the curb.

In the UK kebabs are also popular but we used to order a serve of chips with shaved kebab chicken meat on top and then garlic mayo drizzled over it.

Is it any wonder I turned into a fat pig in the UK? (No. That is not a question I want you to answer)

So… what do you eat after a big night on the razz?





NaBloPoMo – Day Twenty Eight.

28 11 2007

Short post tonight. I have had a hard and very fucking long day at work.

Laksa makes everything better.

How’s this for sad?

I had many a drunken curry from this place.

I just don’t know if Surry Hills will ever be the same without their greasy, runny vindaloos.

In a way, my stomach thanks you.