My Own Private Izakaya

Monday was Baby's birthday. Call me what you want, but I'm a proud Daddy and my Baby is gonna get a party for her big day, even if she is a Jeep. According to the insurance papers, Baby turned 1 year old on Monday but she's really 3. We don't like to discuss the two years she spent neglected on the lot, serving as a target for incontinent sea gulls and racking up a whopping 24 kilometres, probably just driving around the dealership. She's now up to 3600, and has enjoyed covered parking for the past year, despite the occasional scratch thanks to some neighbours who refuse to park their great Mercury boat straight and who have the audacity to blame the scratches on their grandchildren who swing open the car doors caring not and thinking only of all the fun they will have at grandma and grandpa's house. I think not. I'm not saying anything, but even an idiot can correct a parking angle... They're my neighbours and they've made assurances, so I try to get along with them, but that doesn't mean that the dings will stop.

For Baby's birthday, we had chocolate caramel flan or something, and Chunky Monkey ice cream. It was scrummy, but technically I don't think it was a true flan. We didn't buy a gift for Baby, because that would be ridiculous but we went for a drive on Tuesday. Ali and I went to the north shore to check out Orange Peel's restaurant only OP was working in the dishpit that night and different people were working the front. She came out for a few minutes to tell me that I was a loser for having a party for Baby, and worked quick to come drink with us but we left before that. She fronted us the appies and the dessert, making us pay only for the house pad and the prawn rice. The appies were crab filled wonton which I ate 4 and Ali ate only 2, and the dessert was sticky rice with mango for Ali and deep fried bananas for me. OP is working like crazy to pay for a trip to Australia. I am secretly jealous, but I can only take one holiday at a time. Japan is next, Iriomote here I come! But also Ibaraki and maybe Hokkaido.

Wednesday I picked Ali up in Durban and went to a little place that I've been keeping secret for a few weeks now. It's not really secret, its been splashed all over the internet, but I haven't mentioned it before. There are three locations in my city and we always go to the same one because its close to home for Ali, plus we like one of the chefs. He's got this crazy do that reminds me of Kazushi Sakuraba. Of course I'm being facetious, but the staff are very welcoming and the food is always good. The dishes are small, meant to be like tapas but are very well priced. I told Ali about Sakuraba and was surprised that she knew him. Thinking I was talking to a closet wrestling fan, I told her why I liked Sakuraba. A smaller plucky Japanese fighter beat the crap out of a Brazilian legend and, despite my recollection, triumphed after about 2 hours of jumping, kicking and crazy ass punching. His debut performance at the PRIDE fights was so good, its a verb. Nowadays, Sakuraba has dropped the coif, and has put on weight to fight the bigger guys. Maybe when I get cable television again, I will watch more Sakuraba matches, but for now I can only copy his crazy style next time my neighbour scratches Baby.