We'll start with food, which, you know, not rare!
MARKS AND SPENCERS, aka "THE DEVIL" (in a good way)
Marks and Spencers had only been a myth, up until I moved here. I'd never been in one, and somehow managed to not go into the one here for two and a half months. And then, it happened. One lunch hour, I remembered a family member who visited telling me how amazing the food was there. Unfortunately, they were bang-on!
I've been trying to find pictures of the heaven bits (not their real name, though it would definitely apply!), but there aren't any good ones!
What I can show you is this...
This is my food drawer at the office, right beside my desk, filled with just bad personal choices.
The first is on the left, some "Popchips" like things, cheese and onion flavoured. Those are relatively healthy, at 90 calories a bag. To the top left is something I spent $15.99 on just for the tin (love it!), and was then told there were giant shortbread cookies in it. Bonus!
Below that are the best little pieces of heaven, ever. The left of the two are these, well, you know the Crunchie chocolate bar? Some genius (not sure why I didn't think of it!) put that candy sponge deliciousness into little pieces, like a chocolate covered raisin. Woah, did they get into my face quickly! Speaking of chocolate covered raisins, those are on the right. Also delicious, but if I had to choose which to take with me on a deserted island, I would chose the crispy bit thingies, pas de questionnes (yes, that is the extent that I speak French, even though I could have looked up the proper spelling on Google. Let's blame it on I don't care).
ROMEO & JULIET, OUTDOOR BALLET STYLE
Alright, let's get some stuff straight here before I go on.
a) The only reason I understand Romeo and Juliet is because Leonardo DiCaprio is handsome.
b) The only reason I understand the ballet enough to not ask questions all the way through, is because I'm a grown-up and know not to. If I were ten, there would have been questions.
I went to this ballet because the last ballet I went to was when I was very young. When I say young, I mean it in that I asked my father during the Nutcracker, about ten minutes in, "... when do they start talking?"
Yeah.
Anyhow, I tagged along with a lovely group of woman, we had dinner first, and then cabbed 'er on over to Fort Hamilton for the show. It was a great show, under the stars, lovely ballet dancers, and a lot of man-bums. I'm sorry, it needs to be said! Spandex, like, extreme spandex, and little ballet-man bums, it was distracting!
Clearly, Bermuda has not made me a more mature woman.
Moving on.
When it was done, we caught the most adorable little tourist train back to town. This is the only show I got, as my iPhone doesn't appear to favour the night.
Behind that tree is half of the set! Any time Juliet spends in her bedroom/chambers, which is a fair amount, was directly behind that GD tree!
Near the end, when she's all, "Ohhh, I must drinketh this poison...", I moved, I wanted to see this woman dance. Again, I'm an seriously lacking in ballet knowledge, but I think she was brilliant. The stand "O" at the end of the performance would be a hint, at least to me.
A small rant begins below:
I'm tall. A lot tall. So, when I go out to venues where there are even-levelled seating, I always sit at the back, to spare those who may be shorter behind me the rage of having to duck back and forth behind my head. I've been told that this is a rare thing, thinking of other people in that regard, in those situations. Fine, so I'm nice sometimes.
Because of this niceness, I did this at the ballet. Sat at the back, and a few of the lovelies that I was with sat back there with me. Very nice of them.
Off I go to get a drink, can of Sprite, thank you, and I come back to a man taller than me, sitting directly in front of me! I'm sorry Karma, have I done something to offend you?
So, I'm the idiot ducking from side to side behind this jerk (maybe he's nice, but at that moment, he was a super jerkface), and then not being able to see Juliet because of that pisser of a palm tree.
I'll say this, tall guy, if you read this (yeah, pipe dream that is), be nicer to the human population. Self-awareness, hellooooo!
Rant over.
SATURDAY & SUNDAY WEEKEND FUNDAY!
Poetry at it's best folks...
This Saturday was excellent. The ballet was the end of it, so that we've already covered. Let's chat early Saturday. I slept. Boy did I sleep.
I realized quickly that I was no longer 16, so I got up and went about the day. I walked to the ferry dock area, and had a delicious toasted croissant with ham and cheese from D'Angelini's. They are lovely people in there. Well, most of them.
Then I sat by the water...
After the water sitting and rich people watching, I decided that I should check out a mall near by. See, a "mall" in Toronto is this monstrosity of a building, filled with things that only a fifth of the population would actually buy, yet somehow the stores stay in business. In Bermuda, the Washington mall is a very small iteration of that, with more than mildly useful items.
What I love about Bermuda is that almost every store along the two main east/west running roads can be entered on either of the two parallel streets, Reid or Church. It's brilliant.
I remembered that someone mentioned a candy store, that also sold toys. Yet another series of great choices began. I bought some candy (through truly, I knew I would be at the ballet with a group of women who love candy, so it wasn't a wholly selfish decision, and boy this they love the candy!), and then I bought the best, most useless child's toy ever invented...
Yeah, I own this now. This Koosh ball, make of plastic strings, and brilliance. Note the "ages 3 and up" label.
Hells yeah.
After reverting back from being six years old, I walked into this spectacular maze of stores that I'm not even sure has a name. I had no idea about it until my family was out shopping one day, found it, and then took me later on. It's this miss-mash of Hallmark-like stores, book stores, furniture stores, and just some overall excellent things. I found this chair...
I love this chair. Guys, it's a "leather" (for the price, there's absolutely zip way that it's real leather) rocking chair. And I fit in it. And it's comfortable. And it must be mine!
We'll see what happens with that. I'm mulling it over.
Let's break from Bermuda talk for a moment and discuss my love for random chairs. Back in the day, well, a couple of years ago, I was walking by this store in Toronto, on the same street that I was living on at that time, and saw this chair.
I bought it, because, HELLO, it's beautiful, and the kicker, it was $1400 for $199! Yeah! Who in their right mind would turn that down? Well, a normal person. I had nowhere to put it. Then I ended up having somewhere to put it when I was condo-livin' downtown Toronto, that was short lived, because as you all well know, I now live in Bermuda. My Ma is guarding that piece of magnificence for me until I come back. Lovely of her! I refused to sell it, unlike every other piece of furniture before I left.
Moral of the above, I suppose, is that I shouldn't buy this excellent "leather" rocking chair. Right? I mean, not only do I not really need it, but, I would have to ship that jerk back to Toronto, at likely three times the cost of the chair itself, whenever I'm back.
I suppose I could just charge up the ol' laptop, take it with me to the store every weekend, and hang out in the chair? No one will have a problem with that, right?
:(
