Please . . please . . Please . . . . Please . . please, Wollongong, enough with the posts about how wonderful the eating is in Wollongong these days.
We get one new chain eatery in town, and people go beresk.
Now Melbourne, that is a city who knows how to do food.
I shudder to think what sort of frenzy the (mostly) culinary, cultural wasteland of Wollongong* would experience, if “Lord of the fries” ever opened an outlet here.
Perspective people, calm yourselves . . please.
*Of course North Wollongong is exempt from any, and all, besmirching. It, and its inhabitants of cultured residents, is (natch) utterly beyond reproach.
You know the aging process is well underway, when you’re sitting around with your gay friends, and instead of discussing appropriately salacious, lascivious, retched guy things, you realize you just spent fifteen minutes talking, and fantasizing about potato salad. Including a role play of Nigella Lawson, with heaving bosoms*, making aforementioned salad.
*The absolute tragedy is I didn’t need to stuff cushions down my shirt to get the tits.
What if the big N.A.S.A announcement is that they have found traces of humanity on earth?.
