Tag Archive: restaurant


I don’t have a small dongle

Google-Chromecast-lead-624

Google’s small dongle

Apparently Google does.

It’s a Chromcast thingy that you plug into your TV and gives you all sorts of wonderful thingies.

I bet it also gives Google all sorts of information about your viewing habits too, so they can direct appropriate advertisers in your direction.

I wouldn’t trust them an inch.

Remember, you are not the customer; you and your information are just their bait. The advertisers are the customers, you are just grist for their mill.

Since yesterday’s post I can’t get that song “Just another day in paradise” out of my head, it keeps playing through my subconscious at the oddest of moments.

Today is also, “Just another hot day in paradise”. They promised it would be cooler than yesterday, but I think not. They also promised rain in the late afternoon, let’s see.

bugle_bogus_wIt’s too hot to be blogging, although I have done my lot today, this is the past post of the day… Sounds of a battered old bugle far off in the imaginary distance.

I should be brief, so that I can anticipate beer o’clock.

So far today, apart from blogging, I have…

Coffeed

Watered (both me and the plants)

Napped

Thought about lunch, which has yet to materialise. But it will be quick and easy and involved salsicha (hotdogs again).

Salsicha

Yesterday, I had them fried in batter. Yes, I know that’s not good for the waistline, but it’s soul food, comfort food. You see deep fried battered hotdogs were sold at every fair when I was a kid, the taste is so nostalgic.

The beer truck has arrived, so has the need for haste.

Yesterday, I cooked four, but only managed three. The last was a bit of a burnt offering, so it finished up in the kitchen rubbish.

This morning the ragdoll cat from next door was in, tipped over the rubbish tin and ate the whole thing in the middle of the kitchen floor while I was blogging. I know he ate it there because of the grease spot. He treats my place is like some kind of restaurant.

Mine had no squirrel attached

Mine had no squirrel attached

The orange truck passed by this morning. No oranges. But he did have pineapples, 4 for R$5 (that’s about $2.20).

“No squirrel attached” was actually going to be the title of this post, but I felt that a small dongle had more appeal.

Important news, Flappy Bird is coming back!

Isn’t that exciting? <—- rhetorical question It was headline news today both in BBC and The Guardian.

Flappy-Bird-4I had no idea what a Flappy Bird was, I had to google it.

I am beside myself with excitement, I nearly wet my plants… again.

I am sure the world can live without Flappy Bird. Oh the inanity is mind-boggling. It is a game, for those of you lucky enough never to have heard of it, for an iPad where you have to keep tapping your screen to keep the bloody thing flapping.

More news on the Snowden front. You may/may not recall that he said all the big names, Yahoo, Apple, Google, Microsoft, Facebook and AOL knew about Prism, the US internet spying all the time; which they were all very quick to deny and sent them all spiraling into damage control mode. Turns out that a lawyer for NSA has told some investigating committee yesterday that they all knew, every sordid detail. Not only that but they cooperated fully with them.

Pack of lying bastards! They are all tarred with the same brush.

Nothing is safe nor sacrosanct in this world anymore.

The tinkling of beer bottles in their crates is getting to me…

Later.

 

The Fatted Calf

Well, not actually, rather a fatted me. But the title just seemed to fit after yesterday’s.

Some of the goodies on offer

The music started and I fled in a taxi.

It’s only a five minute trip and my table was being prepared as the waiters saw me walk hobble in the door.  My table is about half way down the restaurant, I always sit at the same if it is free. By the time I got there, doffing my hat on the spare chair whilst the other was held ready for me, my beer arrived. Chilled handle, sem colarinho (no head), placed exactly where I like it. Apart from greeting the waiters as I entered, I hadn’t ordered my beer; it just arrives and is often on the table before I get there, if one of the waiters has spied my arrival outside.

The restaurant is probably the classiest in my wild west part of Rio, it’s also the most expensive. The price of the evening rodizio is R$34 (about USD18) plus drinks; beer at R$6.90 a handle. Now that may not seem expensive by 1st world standards, but here it is. So I expect the service, I am also one of their more regular diners; three or four times a month, so they tend to look after me. Especially after an affair a couple of years ago when a request was refused and I boycotted the place for 14 months. Eventually the maitre (the one who had refused my request) found me in another restaurant and apologised, inviting me back for a free meal.

I did go back and I learned he got shit from the owner over the affair, considering the restaurant lost about R$1,500 over the period due to my boycott.

I get treated ever so well.

I got home just in time to see the music pack up and the van drive off, perfect… but not quite. There was a guy there with a mini disco system and they played on until 1am, needless to say I was sleepless until then.

Words will be spoken. Loud music until 1am across the road from my gate is just pure ignorance.

Later

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