How to pick up chicks
January 15, 2009, 2:15 pm
Filed under: food, gadgets | Tags: , ,

Two of my favourite restaraunts in Dublin are Wagamama and Yamamori. Both require the use of chopsticks which the majority of customers can use. Except me. Everytime I visit, I have to smile politely and ask for cutlery whilst pretending I have no shame.

Deep down, I’d love to be able to use them, but whenever I try I end up making a giant mess everywhere, (so not pretty), or I get too hungry and end up begging for a fork. It’s their fault really for making the food so delish.

But now, finally, all my chopsticks problems have been solved –

I give you –

Japanese Chopsticks Practice Game !

Here’s how you play: dump all the chicks into the little bowl. Then take turns picking them out. The smaller the chick, the harder they are to pick up, and the more points you get.

Now I can practice at home, without making a mess, without the distraction of yummy Japenese food, aaand have fun, all at the same time! Amazing!

Excuse me while I go fish out my VISA.

Attack of the blob
January 15, 2009, 1:51 pm
Filed under: food, health

I dare not turn this into a diet blog. Not only will it bore anyone reading, it will depress the holy bejeebus out of me. Who needs a record of my miserable lack of willpower and my unending need for doritos lathered with hommous and Red Bull Cola. Oh God, I’m drooling already. 

Anyways…  I joined the dreaded WW on Monday. As in Weight Watchers. Sigh.   New year, new start, blah blah blah. It’s on near work at lunchtime which is rather handy but means that my stomach growled handsomely the entire way through the meeting. This in turn set off the stomachs of anyone within five feet of me, giving me a contagious fit of the giggles and making me miss the whole POINT of the meeting entirely. 

The really horrible part of the class is, of course,  the weigh in. I hadn’t weighed myself in a good three months, instead preferring to go by clothes sizes – the logic being:  if they’re not bet on to me, I must be doing ok. Unfortunately this mightn’t have been the best idea as I got a rather unpleasant shock on the scales. Kate Moss I am not but… that weight? Really? Sheeeeeeet.  The perky instructer didn’t seem too put out though as she gleefully wrote down my weight on a card and sent me on my merry way, bottom lip wobbling precariously.

Next week we have to attend the meeting wearing the same clothes to keep an accurate measure of our weight. I wish I’d known that before I went last week, wearing 10 layers (they’re fashionable, ya know) and winter boots. I won’t make the same mistake next time though – I’m going nekkid. She’ll never notice, right?