Expensive Tastes

You know what I like, nay, love? Expensive shit. But, not to the point where I’m an airhead bimbo who marries a sugar daddy to get it. That’s just dumb.

Naturally, my lack of money (an occupational hazard of being a student) has prevented me from enjoying such wonders as lobster, crab, fillet steak etc on a regular basis, and my expanding waistline means I’ve had to cut down on the booze and fancy chocolates rather dramatically. But, after losing the best part of a stone, I said “fuck it” and decided to put a bit back on, because my jeans were too big and I couldn’t be bothered to buy any more.

Anyway.

There’s something about me which causes me, no matter the establishment I’m in, to find, and immediately want, the most expensive item in the whole place without looking at the pricetag, only to suffer a crushing disappointment when I can’t have it.

A perfect example. At this crappy restaurant I was at the other day (which I complained about) There was lobster, crab, steak, lemon sole, and other delicious sounding things on the menu, all of which were astranomically priced.

Okay, £22.00 for a steak is way over the top, but it’s kind of expected with lobster.

Another example, at Loch Fyne, a lovely restaurant I would highly recommend, I immediately wanted lobster again, but, remembering I only had so much money, went for scallops.

Again, pricey, but absolutely fucking delicious. I could have had a burger, but to hell with that, I like real food.

A non food related example would be that I was wandering around TKmax, partly out of boredom, partly because Mother was there, and partly because I wanted a new leather jacket, (something I wasn’t to get until two days ago, and this happened a few years ago).

Anyway, wandering about, I suddenly homed in on a stunning purple leather dealio, whose fabric felt like silk, it fitted like a dream, it was warm and breatheable, the colour matched my hair pefectly, and it made me look awesome if I do say so myself.

After preening and posing in the mirror and chatting to myself out loud, drawing the attention of the drab little beetles doing their shopping, I took a peek at the pricetag, wondering if I could beg Mother for an early Christmas present.

It was three

Thousand

Pounds.

Reduced to five hundred, but still.

I dropped it on the floor and got the fuck out. I’m not paying that for a jacket.

A Hearty Slap Up! Or Not.

Being a seafood loving creature, I tend to eat fish quite often, though I will very rarely say no to a thick, bloody steak!

That being said, I had to say no today, as one of my favourite pubs at home recently underwent a transformation into a bar / restaurant type deal.

It looks lovely on the inside, but in reality, it’s not all that great.

The food was overpriced and of poor quality. I had fish and chips, as this was one of the few things I was able to afford. The starter was some mushroomy thing on toast (it had a fancy name, but that’s all it was) with was underseasoned, soggy and unappetising. It was generally wet. While the fish itself was nicely cooked, the batter was soggy on the underside, the chips were floppy and tasteless, the mushy peas were a mound of solid, shredded giant snot, and the whole thing was covered in salt. Thanks, but I like to be able to add salt to my own meal if it needs it.

Other than that, I tried some of my table’s other dishes; and lets just say I was not impressed. The parsnip mash was not mash, but half liquid, half lumpy vomit, the broccoli was undercooked, the chicken under-seasoned, and the bloody wrong meal come to the table for one of us.

Dessert was okay, but nothing to rave about. I can’t even remember what I had, it was so underwhelming. Something with peach ice cream in it. I love ice cream, I love peach, but this thing was nothing special.

I’d have LOVED to have started my meal with fresh dressed crab, and then had steak (blue, obviously), but that would have left me about fifty quid out of pocket. Fifty! I can go to Weatherspoons and get a perfect steak and a pint for about six quid. And I bet you, a pound to a penny, the steak at spoons would be nicer.

Needless to say, I won’t be eating there again. Yuck.