Today I had a Luncheon date with Shivani, a producer for the English market. Producers exist in a purely fictional universe that the normal human being cannot comprehend. Sparky calls it "swimming in Producer infested waters".

I had to meet Shivani at a place called Laroche. I've never been to this place, it's not my kind of hang out. Maybe when I'm 40, if I ever get there, and have turned into a complete asshole. It's so devoid of humanity even the smell of the place is artificial.

I had Poached guinea fowl, morel and champagne cream with parnsip chips while my companinon had cured organic salmon gravalax, acacia honey and mustard dressing. Just incase you don't know, salmon gravalax is hardly what one would call a meal. It's looks like a pastry. My meal wasn't that bad but I could hardly finish it as the champagne cream was a little too strong for my taste.

Afterwards this chick lit up a strange cigarette that I've never seen before: has a long blue stem with a white butt, while I sipped on the wine curtsey of the madam waiting on us.