Today for dinner I am having veggie sausages and half a "rustic baguette". Whatever that means.
My fiancé left two days ago so if I was Freud I would probably say that the fact that I only seem to be eating phallic shaped food means I miss him. Or something to that extent.
I bought the "rustic baguette" at a place called "French fantasies" that surprisingly enough does not specialize in latex style clothing and feather dusters, but pastries and bread. I didn't ask the French woman behind the counter what exactly made this particular baguette rustic. But I kind of wanted to.
Wikipedia says that "baguette" is french for "small cane". But if I literally wanted a small cane, would I still ask for a baguette? I might never know, and before posting this I will probably have forgotten about my desire for this knowledge anyway. I'm sure it makes for a lot of good pun though. French high quality pun.
26-year old Swede living in exile in Melbourne with lovely Aussie fiancé, trying to cope with the every day challenges of being unemployed while waiting for her permanent visa to come through.
Drinks a lot of wine, enjoys the guilty pleasure of semi reality shows such as "the city" and "real housewives of Orange county" and has the annoying habit of emotionally breaking down every 30-45 days like clockwork.