The return of the boss
She who must be obeyed returned home last night, bearing big hugs and a large box of Vietnamese food. I deviated from my diet of the last few days (sandwiches, beer and snacks), and we went to MK for dinner.
For those who don’t know, MK is a Thai institution with thousands of branches across the country. You get a pot of hot stock and you purchase stuff to throw into the pot and cook. They also do plates of duck which are as good as you will find anywhere. The boss chooses the food, and there is usually too much. After a time she will announce that she is full and “the rest is for you.” When I can’t finish it I get into trouble for wasting food. But the food is tasty, the service is quick and the price is reasonable.
After dinner I offer her a chick-flick, the Sex And The City movie. Having mentioned before that Jock tends to wake up next to women who look like a horse, I now realise that he has probably been sleeping with Sarah Jessica Parker who looks like a Grand National horse that fell into the first fence.
All of the women in this film are unpleasantly shallow, materialistic individuals; hard to care what happens to them, easy to wish that they might all be crushed by a runaway mobile crane within the first half hour. Sadly this didn’t happen. so I left the wife watching the witless women and disappeared into the back room and watched Carlos Sastre win the Tour de France from that obnoxious Australian.
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