DAY 138: ESMERALDO ASS

The past couple of weeks have brought nothing but friends with Ass Problems. First there was Ryan with his Ass Aneurysm (don't ask), now there is Miss Esmeraldo with her Munched Ass. 

Apparently Rottweilers dig Esmeraldo Ass. Like a whole bunch. And apparently it's not very good manners to fall on the floor laughing when said Rottweiler is attached to said ass. I apologise Miss Esmeraldo. I hope posting this photo of your ass for the entire electric interweb to see will make you realise that I really, really do care about your ass. Your Sweet Esmeraldo Ass.

Day 128: R.BROWN THE GROUPIE

My friend Ryan, Designer of Awesomeness, Captain Stu bassist and all round cool dude, arrived in Durban Town to play a few gigs, have a massive party and end up in hospital with an Ass Aneurism (don’t ask). It was great to see him again. Having him around made me realize how much I miss Capetonians. And his band, Captain Stu seriously rocks. I jammed out with my clam out to their Jazzy-Rock-Dub fusion and was mightily impressed, as I had never heard them play before. Well-done guys. You rocked Durban Town stukkend.

DAY 127: YAAABADA GA ASSHOWL! TROUBLE IN PARADISE

I take a drive up to The Fathers house this weekend unannounced, in hope of scoring a free lunch. But The Father and The Sproglett had gone out, leaving me alone in the lounge with The New Thai Wife as I awkwardly clutch a cup of tea:

R. Brown: So, how have you been?

New Thai Wife: YAAABADA GA ASSHOWL!

R. Brown: Yes, it is lovely weather we are having. I think Spring has finally arrived.

New Thai Wife: NO! NO! YAAABADA GA ASSHOWL!

R.Brown: I’m sorry…I didn’t quite catch that…

New Thai Wife Points to a picture of The Father hanging on a wall: YAAABADA!

R.Brown: Oh, you mean MY FATHER… What about him?

New Thai Wife: HE ASSSS-HOWL!

R.Brown: Oh dear.

The New Thai Wife storms off into the kitchen and proceeds to slam dishes around. I guess that means no free lunch. Balls. I leave, mumbling something about emergency appendicitis.

DAY 124: V MACS ROADHOUSE

Officially one of my best jols so far in Durbs. It’s a pokey little dive in Funky Town that offers live music on Friday nights and is filled with old, wise biker dudes that tell great stories. What I love most about the place is that about 80% of all ‘Durbanaats’ turn their noses up at me every time I mention its existence. Leaving V-Macs Roadhouse blissfully Jock and Shark-Slut free.

DAY 122.5: THE FUNKLE OF AWESHUMNESHHHHH

This weekend I had the pleasure of hanging out at Billy The Bums with The Uncle of Awesomeness from Malaysia. It must be said that both The Uncle and I are award winning whiskey appreciators. Combine that with about 4 years to catch up on, a Jager-Bomb and a silliness that inevitably arises between two Browns at any restaurant table, and you get trouble. I think the following pic sums the evening up quite nicely:

DAY 122: DEAR DR EAR, NOSE & THROAT SPECIALIST

I’ve been thinking about it and have decided that you were right. I was in fact being ‘rather difficult’ last week. I’m sorry for hitting your arm away so that it hit your assistant in the face, I’m sorry for telling you to ‘fuck off and get the fuck away from my ear’ and I’m sorry for saying that you were ‘on Crack.’ But seriously Dr, what part of ‘I hate things being stuck down my ears’ didn’t you understand? Surely you knew that producing an ear suction thingy that looked like a frikken drill would bring out the worst in me?  Surely all the hysterical screaming and sobbing before you had even turned the Drill Thingy on would have been a pretty big clue? I have one thing to say to you Dr, and I hope it will make you think twice before you bring out that Drill Thingy on your next unsuspecting, ear-probe-phobic patient:

P.S Thanks for removing the greater part of Addington Beach from my ear.