Tag Archive: fear


Press the Fn Key!

function_key_mousepadI have tried.

But it doesn’t help me function.

The only thing that helps me function is coffee, wonderful, wonderful Brazilian coffee.

For example, yesterday I didn’t have enough coffee, so I couldn’t function. In fact so bad was my lack of function and coordination that I didn’t get here yesterday.

I went to the Murder House.

In the corner of my old primary school there was a small isolated building that we called the ‘Murder House’.

Every so often a kid would appear at the classroom door, whisper to the teacher, who would then call out a name. That kid was being summoned to the ‘Murder House’.

dentistsolddrill

Murder weapon

Nervously, the summoned would pack is books into his/her school desk and lower the lid ever so slowly as if trying to prolong the safety of the classroom; then slowly, ever so slowly amble to the door, with a last glance back to friends and playmates, and disappear.

Sometimes they came back, but sometimes they didn’t, they’d been murdered by the school’s dental nurse using the fearsome treadle drill. The pervading smell of alcohol and the funny watery silver stuff that was amalgamated to pack ones teeth.

We knew why the ‘Murder House’ was isolated in the far corner of the school, that was so the other kids wouldn’t be traumatised by the screams, because the ‘Murder House’ didn’t respect playtime (recess) nor the lunch hour. We never actually saw a corpse leave the ‘Murder House’, but we did see distraught kids hustled quickly out the back gate with their mums.

You see, that is why my generation grew up with an innate fear of the dentist, a fear that for me exists today some nearly sixty years later.

I have a friend, Luciano, he’s a dentist, he’s my dentist. I like him, he’s great fun at a BBQ, but I hate what he does. Which is why I procrastinated from early December until yesterday in going to see him.

As it turned out, I did have two serious problems, he packed a curative in and told me not to chew my beer for an hour. Painless, one slight twinge, that sent me hurtling back in time (who needs a time machine?) and I was being hustled out of the chair for the next victim patient.

afghangirlIn my last post, I mentioned an eight year old Afghan girl being arrested as a suicide bomber.

She was shown on TV last night here in Brazil, she is in fact 10, a beautiful, articulate and seemingly intelligent girl.

What manner of people would treat a child like this? Apparently her older brother, a Taliban, recruited her. He is now being hunted by the police.

The world is an evil place.

Must blog along.

Later.

Fanta-Stic

The old stuff was good

The old stuff was good

With the move these days towards food additives and poisons like HFCS, sodas have become one of the denizens of modern living and obesity. I cannot name any soda today that is what they used to be.

One of my past favourites was Fanta, but today I wouldn’t touch it with a barge pole.

I have said before that I don’t allow soda in the house, but have instead turned to sparkling mineral water, or tap water.

But I have a favourite drink; homemade fanta. It’s Fanta-Stic.

Freshly squeezed orange juice (two or three oranges), with sparkling mineral water and half a dozen ice cubes. I dilute it 5:1, but you may prefer 2 0r 3:1. If you want to give your kids a healthy alternative to commercial soda, try this one. I have just drunk a litre (almost a quart).

Blogged today, went to town, did some shopping, had far too much at a restaurant, and returned home for a well deserved nap. Highlight of the day, I bought a new trash can for the kitchen, doesn’t that turn your nobs?

If only kids could be as happy with something so simple.

TF_collywobbles

Click on the image to read the fine print

I have been feeling much better, slowly over the last week since the wamblecroft has departed. I am pleased to report that my bowel movements roughly equal the intake of food as they used to. It was worrying at first, more was going in than departing and I couldn’t figure out where it was going. I mean, it had to go somewhere, didn’t it?

Now I guess you’re wondering… WTF is wamblecroft? Old English term for indigestion, think collywobbles, although collywobbles more refers to fear, fear of being wamblecroft.

Yesterday, one of the things I did at beer o’clock was to wander along to the botequim for a beer. Surprisingly between the opening of the bottle and supping the last drop the weather had gone from sunny to rain. Yes, that quickly. It was sunny when I sat down, and then it began to blow, then cloud over, then spots of rain.

In fact it has just done the same now. Before I started this post it was sunny. I wandered outside and pondered the idea of going for a beer. But feelings of guilt ruled and I thought it better to write my final post of the day, now there is rain dripping off the garage roof. This is fairly typical of Rio de Janeiro in November; the summer rains in the late afternoon.

I see the French still don’t get it, they’re going to fine the clients of the prostitutes rather than the prostitutes. I doesn’t matter who they fine, prostitution will be alive and well until they ban marriage; as long as we have marriage, we’ll have prostitution. Doesn’t anybody think any more? It’s obvious that politicians don’t!

khat03Britain has the same myopic view over khat. KhatCatha edulis is a plant eaten/chewed principally by Yemenis and Somalis. It is addictive and mildly narcotic.

Most of Europe have banned the stuff, and now Britain is looking at making it a Class-C drug.

Haven’t the stupid bastards learned anything from making cannabis illegal. More than eighty years, and there is more cannabis being smoked than ever. By classifying khat as a drug, they’ll only exacerbate the use. Talk about screwing things up…

Another ranty post. Yesterday a comment congratulated me on my ranty posts. Thank you.

Later.

 

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