I think everyone who reads this will appreciate learning that, in a recent fit of self-loathing over our debaucherous lifestyle and its disastrous impact on our mental/physical well-being (read: waistlines), Al and I decided yesterday that we were going to do the 10-day Master Cleanse fast.
I think you'll appreciate this because - after schlepping through traffic to the organic market to buy the laxative tea and the special maple syrup and dragging my tired ass out of bed early this morning to squeeze lemons and make 3 litres of the crappy drink - I lasted three hours before I caved and started shoving my face with croissants like I had just survived a famine. THREE HOURS! Basically, my drive to work + two hours of sitting at my computer stricken with panic about what I had gotten myself into. (Seriously... my heart was actually racing.)
Let this be a lesson to us all about trying to be something we're not.
Weekend in Abu Dhabi was fab - definitely a good, relatively (relatively!) serene getaway from the insanity of Dubai. Note to self, though: when a hotel in the UAE (where even the most "finished" things are unfinished and a brand-new "Old Town" is being constructed with no irony whatsoever) willingly admits that it is in its "soft opening" stage, think twice about staying there. It wasn't a bad experience so much as a frustrating one, but hopefully by the time the "hard opening" rolls around, they will have enrolled the staff in emergency English classes, halted the 24/7 jackhammering around the pool perimeter, and oh yes, mastered the art of cooking chicken so I don't bite into a raw breast in my sandwich. Ick.
Okay gotta run, off to a late dinner at Irish Village, which - you will all be shocked to learn - is neither Irish nor a village. Bless this place.
