Hold my Pussy!

Ever had one of those days?

Well, I’ve just had two of them, one after the other.

Yesterday, I managed to get most of my blogging done, except the my main post for Wednesday on Eco-Crap, which itself indicates some sort of disaster has fallen.

Not a disaster as in The Philippines with their typhoon, that was a disaster of epic proportions. My disaster was spending the day from 11:30am in therapy, yes, I went shopping.

On Tuesday I wrote that I planned to pay my rent and get my ink cartridge refilled, well it was 11:15 before I remembered it.

Fifteen minutes later I was out of the house. You see that’s the wonderful part of being a man; I can go from a standing start to being out of the house in 15 minutes. A women can’t do this.

Of course, the exit wasn’t as simple as one might imagine. Cloro wanted to come too. I got to the gate, through the gate, locked the gate, and Cloro wriggled under the gate, she sat there with a “where are we going?” look.

There was only one solution as I wasn’t going to escape that easy. I walked the eleven metres to the botequim, Cloro followed. One of the fregües was there having a quiet beer. “Gilsen, hold my pussy until I get to the corner!”

Gilsen grabbed an unsuspecting Cloro, and I hobbled off at a great rate of hobs, made it to the corner and effected my escape. Remember this was all in the fifteen minutes.

Got to town, got my ink cartridge filled, then the rent place had closed for lunch. Okay, in the event of this happening, I have a cunning plan… I went for lunch too. Braseiro is just around the corner. The next two hours was spent at lunch; you see at 60+ years old I adhere strictly to gentleman’s hours.

Time was marching on.

I had a good lunch, five pints of beer and a caipirinha to finish. I was a bad boy, but I still had a trick up my sleeve. During lunch I was served a cutlet of lamb. They used to have a nice jelly mint sauce, it was horrendously expensive, so they cut it out and yesterday presented me with a lime-green caseiro (homemade) version. It was as horrendous tasting as the old offering was horrendously priced. A discussion ensued, in which I lambasted their efforts and told them how to make a real traditional NZ mint sauce, promising to return and give them a sample as I had a spare jar in the fridge.

Time was indeed marching on.

I paid my bill, went and paid my rent.

Now the second thing I had planned (lunch wasn’t in my original plans, that’s what I love about plans, that element of flexibility was to buy a set of saucepans (pots of for our American cousins).

This is the part where I entered therapy. To get to the pots and pans section, I had to walk through the clothes section. I’m sure this is a deliberate plot. I happened to spot a pair of dress trousers, and there glaring at me was my size, 52cm. Draped them over my arm. Then I saw a nice casual but dressy T-shirt, once again, my size was glaring at me, GG (big-big); it joined the trousers draped over my arm.

I finally got to the pots and pans place. The moment I saw this box open on display with it’s dark red-finished non-stick pots, I knew that I had to have it and nothing else would do. The girl took them to the checkout for me, and I had to pass the wine-glasses. I saw a blog post the other day that suggested we need glasses as we get older and had a picture of wine glasses. So true, I thought to myself, so true; and the take 8 – pay for 6 tag was irresistible. New tea towels joined the trousers and T-shirt on my arms as I made my way to the checkout.

My therapy was a success, but by the time I got home the last thing I wanted to do was give an English class ;(my second student had already cancelled, but I still had Marcello at 5:30.

I didn’t actually get home, the taxi stopped in front of the botequim and I recognised a major ‘Fail’ about to happen. I got a bottle of beer and Cloro found me at the bar, “What’s this?” she asked pawing her way into the big bag. I took the wine glasses out in case they fell out. Cloro went to sleep in the bag and I rang my student.

My story was that I had just got home from town and my legs didn’t want to behave like legs, I was exhausted; if you want an English lesson, you’ll have to come to the botequim. Knowing that Marcelo liked his beer, the idea appealed immediately, in fact I could see his eyes light up at the idea; he was still at work, 20kms away.

Another beer, I was now officially waiting for my student. He arrived after the second beer, late as usual. More beer, and then football was on TV, which meant more beer. I finally got home at 9pm.

Today, wasn’t really any different, although I didn’t have lunch, but I did deliver samples of my mint sauce to the restaurant.

There you have it, two consecutive ‘Fail’ days.

Meanwhile, check out this logic…

Later.