The Story Continues (Continued)
Once I realised I was in the direct firing line of a dozen photographers and about to be arrested by a big brawny policeman (who was obviously more on the ball than everyone else), I made a dash in the direction I came from. I did however get to see the back of Edward’s head – It was nice.
(The photo below was taken by a Maple girl on her break, Rob is directly below the S on the State Theatre sign that I should have seen when I checked in – on arrival I assumed that the barricades were there merely to stop dickheads like myself from falling into the street).
What? I was upset.
In no time at all we were living it up like R Pat. Complimentary Vogue? Don’t mind if I do.
Mum and I talked into the night about everything that was going on in our lives. I promised her that once I made it big I’d buy her a holiday home in Vaucluse with a hot pool boy who looked like Usher circa 2000 to keep her company.
The next morning we woke up ravenous from all of the shit talking. Although we were meant to meet friends for breakfast, I begged her to stay in the hotel so that I could soak up as much of the cleanliness and admire the solid ceilings before returning to The Dirthouse. The beauty of holidaying in your own city is that you know where to get exactly what you want!
Coco Noir in the Westfield serves The Grounds coffee and gives fab discounts to those who work in the centre. My time as a Maple boutique girl certainly paid off! As they were preparing my order I ducked into the lavish David Jones food court to get fresh pastries and a handful of juicy grapes as well as some date logs and a couple of bottles of mineral water.
Ta Da! Breakfast in bed…