So last night J-Rab, me and some friends went through to this event called Taste of Joburg where you taste a whole bunch of signature dishes from the city’s top restaraunts and there’s booze there to taste too.
I like food, in vast quantities, so I decided to check it out. Also, my company does their PR, so we got free tickets (aahhh, the perks).
All in all I enjoyed it. I got to taste some amazing venison like ostrich and warthog and this made me happy because I’ve got this wierd deep down desire to eat as many different animals as I can before I die and now I can tick warthog off that list – score!
It’s people like me that ate the Dodo out of existence.
Best thing about the stand where they served the warthog was that at least two of the chefs manning it were very obviously wasted on coke and it was pretty damn funny.
The one came to our group to explain every detail of how they prepared the warthog and he was doing really well until he got to the carrots they had included on the plate.
His synapses were firing all over the place and as a result he just drew a total blank as he stared in mild panic at the offending carrot.
“And the carrots, um, ahh, hm, lemme think, um, the carrots we, huh, where is my brain today? Haha, the carrots are, umm, we, it’ll come back to me, the carrots…”
Ok Captain Kangaroo, take a minute there buddy, we can do this.
There were all kinds of dancers as well, the most impressive of which were a man and woman who were doing that kind of dancing / performance art where they hold each other upside down and back to front and somehow manage to balance themselves in these impossible positions, impressive stuff.
After they finished J-Rab and me got onto the stage and started doing our own interpretation of the previous performance, everyone around pissed themselves, that shit is hard, but we definitely nailed it.
It was a fun evening all in all, expensive as fuck (J-Rab and me dropped 400 bucks and still went home hungry) but worth it.
Which brings us to today, Friday, and the pile of work staring at me from my inbox, making me feel guilty. Better jump in there.