'sup dawgs?

Yeah, so it has been a coupla weeks, and I've gone completely gangsta. It is awesome, now I walk with a swagger and I have lots of hos and dogs and I wear bling. What is that? 1999? Oh.

Well, fact is I haven't actually gone gangsta, I've more gone work/couch/work. And on Saturday mornings the riverside market in Lower Hutt owns me. I hate to be bossy, but y'all must go there. The fruit and veges are good, great really, however, the best thing is the bread. Holy crap. There is a stall that has the most amazing array of delicious bread I have ever had the pleasure to taste. This week we got focaccia, 6 grain loaf, raisin and caraway loaf (my favourite), turkish bread, apple danishes and some gorgeous italian bap things. I will never deign to touch a loaf of bread from the supermarket again (that was an outright lie, I am the market's fair weather friend). Grab a coffee while you're there from Espresso Rescue, it is to die for (I say things like this, since rather than be gangsta perhaps I'll go for being drama queen).


My baby is splendid. She is 6 months soon, and possibly the most delectable little piece of gorgeousness in the world. I'm feeling great, and would like another 10 babies now, but I think I'll have to get one of those Indian surrogates, because I can't really be fagged with all the pregnancy shizz again.


Business is booming. I'm touching wood as I write that though, 'cos I'm sure the recession will make it out to Petone at some stage and I'll be eating my words, or perhaps it won't and Petone will be a lovely little bubble of recession-denial.


Right, I appear to still have the ability to write more than 140 characters together, but I don't seem to have the power to make it cohesive or meaningful. Welcome to my world.