Well, actually this is the absence of Friday Night Drinks. You see, tonight I was to record the inaugural episode of Friday Night Drinks, the podcast that is yet to be. I was foiled on three accounts:
1. I forgot.
2. I didn’t actually have a Friday night drink (until now, that is).
3. The batteries in my digital recorder are flat and it won’t even turn on.
So you see, I tried.
I met up with a friend for dinner, and ate pretty average risotto at Trotters. I really had higher hopes of that place, being a Lygon St institution and all, but honestly, I make a better risotto at home, and it doesn’t cost me $15.90. One might say that’s comparatively cheap for a risotto, and yes, there certainly are places where a creamy rice-based dish will set you back a lot more than that, but still, if I pay the better part of 20 bucks for a meal, I at least expect the rice to be properly cooked. Surely that’s not too much to ask?
Then we went to see Vicky Christina Barcelona. All I have to say is, I want to go and spend “the summer” (whatever that is, does anyone really know? it’s a very vague definition) in the company of bohemians in Spain. Or Italy. Either will do me just fine. And wear linen pants with great aplomb. And have Scarlett Johansson’s hair. In fact, I think I’d just like to be Scarlett Johansson.