Posts by Lola
Rap v Rosettas. What’s cooler? If you were at Market Lane for Rosettas For Relief to raise money for Japan, the answer was clear. Rosettas rule this city’s streets and lanes.
So you have my do’s and don’ts, whether you’re a humble waiter or hungry customer. I may be right, I may be wrong. But I still always try to be nice.
While it pains me to admit… I’m going to put it out there… waiters aren’t perfect. They can be grumpy. They can be rude. They can be full of themselves and deserving of a right old slap across their smug little faces. They can be just as bad as customers.
Ok, here it is, my scientifically-proven way to get your waiter’s attention, keep him/her onside and get what you want. You’ll notice I’ve grossly exaggerated the scientific basis of my work. I am what is known as an Over-stater.
Complaining… How do you roll? Are you the type who gets their kicks from sending something back? Or the one who wants to crawl under the table when their dining companion complains their hot chocolate is too hot and chocolatey?
The boys of Bon A Manger – sandwiched in the centre of the CBD – are up at 3am, sourcing fresh ingredients from the market to work into original, tasty salads and sangas. Impressive no? Sandwiches seem to be all the rage in the legal district and Bon is the newest kid on the corner of the block.
Athletes and caf-letes listen up…a new power couple is making its mark in Melbourne with the unification of bikes and espresso at the Bike Gallery. In the cool-parched desert of Camberwell there sits a bike shop unlike any other.
Queues generally indicate thereâ€™s something at the end worth waiting for. Unless of course youâ€™re at the bank in which case itâ€™s hell boring. Unless perhaps youâ€™re there to deposit your Tattslotto winnings. Hazaah! But unlikelyâ€¦ I digress. Three Bags Full is one of Melbourneâ€™s serial queue creators but delicious things come to those who wait.
We are a learned crew, us Melburnians, a real city of students. Not in the way that provokes imagery of drunken youths out on a Thursday night for $2 pots in a seedy, sticky-floored establishment, but rather, we could tell you some nifty things about coffee that interstate people would turn their noses up at, and probably call us wankers.