the late night munchies

I've got the late night munchies, and it has nothing to do with anything inhaled or imbibed. It's because of a certain lady named Julia from a certain island called Singapore. Yes, that crazy island where I was born and where I don't seem to like anything besides the food. Well, call me a filial daughter because I now count two Singaporean foodblogs in my blogroll. Julia's got the skinny on everything from Chwee Kueh to where to get the best satay on the island. I feel I can trust her because, as is apparent from her reviews, not everything is delicious in her mouth.

I like people who can take a critical stance. You know, not the little cheerleaders fluffing their chests at the next available ham, but, that girl, the dark haired one sticking the butt end of her pencil in her mouth as she dreams about making out with Stephen Hawking. Actually, not Stephen Hawking... eeks... am I still doing this crazy list about shabby shaggamuffins?

No, erm... I like food blogs where it's not all "it's the best thing I ever had where you have to hike over ten hills" or "the most incredible vegetable seller in the universe with perfect organic what-a-ma-call-its." It's hard to believe anyone who can lay claim to gustatory orgasmic pleasure everyday. I secretly believe these orgasmatrons are lying to us, taking pretty digital pics, Martha Stewart style, of mediocre food, and then stringing us along with superlatives. After all, you can't lick a computer screen, can you?

Anyways, I'm getting off track. Give Julia a peek if you can. I like her writing.

(I ate a full bowl of polenta chicken soup, 12 prunes and two glasses of milk reading her. Now must sleep otherwise will keep eating till the birds start singing.)