Tag Archive: brass monkey


That Funky Monkey

Thi, apprently, is a Funky Monkey

This, apprently, is a Funky Monkey

Yes, that funky monkey again.

Last night was brass monkey weather, even more so than the previous day and night.

Not often I have to resort to a blanket on the bed here in Rio, but last night it was essential.

MWPG left a comment about a brass monkey, it’s a Beastie Boy’s song. That’s where the post title came from… Funky Monkey was in the song.

Now, I have heard of the Beastie Boys, but never consciously listened, nor even knew any of their songs. Having now heard the Beastie Boys, I am in no doubt as to why. The cacophony was so painful that I had to switch it off and look up the lyrics to find the connection alluded to by MWPG.

I’m sorry MWPG, but there are some things that should just be put out of their misery.

I am a wiser man today.

I noted the other day (WordPress report) that this blog has 696 followers, wow, great. But as I only get at most 16 likes (that’s a new record) for the posts… I am left wondering what the rest of you are doing with your left hands as you scroll through my words with the right. Because you are certainly not using it to press the ‘Like’ button! I know some of my posts have sex, and some are even perverse, but stop doing that… you’ll go blind.

Why do people complicate simple things? I hit a page yesterday that perpetuated the myth that brass monkeys losing their balls was a reference to testicles. redxcloseIt was a Brazilian blog in Portuguese, I wrote a reply in my best Portuguese handwriting, and then discovered that I had to go through a series of painful contortions in order to post the comment, couldn’t be bothered, so I hit the big red X.

I see that Israel is hell-bent on genocide again. Netanyahu is using this latest round of rockets from Gaza as his excuse. The few rockets that Palestinians are capable of sending does not warrant the sledgehammer tactics being used to annihilate a whole people. And they are looking at getting a bigger hammer. Despite lip-service to the peace protest, Netanyahu is just not interested in peace, he will settle for nothing but extermination.

After the cold night, the sun is out, the washing is on the line and today is the final of the world cup. Then the world can return to normal.

Now if Argentina put this team in the field, would the Germans even be worried about the ball?

Ball, what ball?

Ball, what ball?

What a Messi that would be!

The game yesterday showed that the Brazilian team is getting better again; only three goals against instead of seven. That’s more than a 50% improvement.

I still think the silly hats should win.

Or perhaps FIFA could hold a facing-painting cup…

fans_2936689b

And… the prize goes to the man in the rolled gold trilby and transparent head! Quote from the Goon Show.

I see a suggestion that surfing should become an Olympic sport, why not face-painting? The ancient Greeks would roll in their graves.

Lunch today… Feijoada

Feijoada - you don't want to know what's in it

Feijoada – you don’t want to know what’s in it

Feijoada is basically black baked beans and parts of the pig you never knew existed. It’s wonderful!

Blogging right along. Two to go.

Later.

 

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A brass monkey

A brass monkey and balls

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not bathing because it’s Saturday, I do bath on other days too.

Actually, I shower.

But the last two days being ball-freezing cold, I have neglected my bodily needs.

Clorinha doesn’t seem to mind.

Being purred to sleep each night is wonderful. She’s up/down onto the bed as soon as I am. The up/down depends whether she leaps from the floor or the window.

A solid boomp in the face, she snuggles under my chin, pushes her nose into my armpit, not a place where I’d put my nose voluntarily, and purrs me to sleep.

Now the brass monkey above, is not the same brass monkey that I used in my reference to ‘cold’. Although, it is often mistakenly so.

Also a brass monkey

Also a brass monkey

The saying comes from an old naval term; a brass square used to hold cannonballs on a ships decks.

Once the weather got cold enough, the brass plate would shrink and dislodge the cannonballs.

See, nothing to do with testicles at all.

.

.

This is also a Brass Monkey

Another brass monkey

Another brass monkey

Dark rum, vodka and 4x the amount of fresh orange juice.

I fully suspect that this might knock one’s testicles off; or at least severely batter them about a bit.

The world is just full of brass monkeys.

The Sun is out, still cool, but after 48 hours the rain has stopped.

Today is Brazil vs Holland to see who is the third place getter in this infernal World Cup.

Both countries, Argentina and Germany believe they have the advantage for tomorrow’s final.

One has a pope, the other has an ex-pope.

footballpopes

Battle of the Popes

Really, it’s out of FIFA’s hands right now.

Loftier decisions are being made.

Read an interesting irritating article yesterday. British parents have been prosecuted for taking their kids on holiday to Australia for three weeks during term time.

The law, once again, proves to be an ass. It also shows how woefully inadequate and screwed up our education systems are.

Those kids would have learned more in three weeks travelling than they would have learned in the same period in school.  I say that with some authority, having declared that since I have been travelling throughout South America, my education has been completed; actually, it is an ongoing process.

Well, the sunny day was short-lived, it’s raining again. I wonder if Clorinha has the sense to come in out of the rain today?

Speaking of cats, I am going for a trip down memory lane.

Yesterday I found two photos long forgottten archived of Ellen Suelen, my step daughter, when she was seven.

The subject was the birth of Hello Kitty’s first litter of kittens. The place, on the mat under my bed. Five tiny damp furry balls were produced witnessed by Ellen, who took an immense interest in the proceedings.

Ellen immersed in the procedings

Ellen immersed in the goings on under my bed

Ellen dutifully informed us of every bloody detail, much like  a football commentator, lurid in every aspect.

As the proceedings came to a close, Ellen rolled over and looked up at me

As the proceedings came to a close, kittens all safely latched to a teat, Ellen rolled over and looked up at me

“I’m not having kids!”

“Why?” I asked innocently. Unaware that I was about to wear the brunt of a seven-year-old’s logic.

“Too messy!”

With that little anecdote, today’s postings come to a close.

My dishes sneered at me again while making coffee, so I will nap to get over that, much cheaper than therapy.

Oh, lunch, weinerschnitzel and bruschetta.

I had planned on a bacon & egg breakfast, but as it’s 11:40, it doesn’t seem right any more.

Clorinha is safely out of the rain and asleep on the sofa.

Later.

 

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