Now Google ...

... Let it Snow!

Open another interweb tab ...

... and Google askew.
Go on.

Snack ?

..... Me: "Snack?"
He: "Ooo, what's this?"
Crunch, crunch, crunch."Chocolate covered rat poo."
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
"No, really, what are they?""Chocolate covered rat feces. Really."
"Bollocks."
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
"What are they?""Brain of rodent, lightly covered in rich, dark chocolate!"Crunch, crunch, crunch.
"No, no they're not .... Really?"I'll never tell!

Apparently it was a big fucking deal ...

... from here.

As Mr Brown hung this picture ...

... above the fireplace in our bedroom, we both turned and looked at our Pingu, who was watching from the windowsill. "Let this serve as a cautionary example Ping", we both said, almost in one voice. Jinx.

This is what happens ...

... when you try to take a picture of Pingu licking Tigger with the flash off on a rainy afternoon.That is all.

Collars ...

... remember the hunt for appropriate collars?
Well, we went with these ones in the end. Yes, they'll get ratty, but what the hell, at $5 a pop, we'll just get new ones.
And, to celebrate the new collars, we got nice new tags too, for just in case, names and 2 phone numbers on the back. Small dog ones were ordered because they had, what we believe, are the perfect pictures on the front.
For the tiny Siamese House Pirate.For our Plush Gourmet. Clicky to enbiggen.

My 8-year-old-boydom ...

... is well established.
Very well established.
And so, with no further adieu, I give you this ...

Fine thanks, yes ...

... This was written in the sky above the Brown-Mouse House New Year's Eve.Who's worried about us? You could just call you know.

Lasagna done ...

... that's it, no more cooking for the rest of the year.*











* though I may make a salad or 2, but as Mr Brown says, that doesn't count.

Yeah, exactly, what they said.

However, the fact this cool o'matic actually exists out there in the interwibs, could change my mind *winkwink*

I've watched this 16 million times ...

... it does not get old (turn the sound down if you're grumpy like me - girly giggles drive me NUTS).

There's nothing like a manly man man ...

... doing manly things like putting up a shelf.

From the New Yorker I believe

Art for the office of a very busy & important Mr Brown ...

... to keep his head small enough to fit through his office door at least. We took it in and hung it on the wall this afternoon. Then I took some fancy pens and post it notes from the desk drawer (left over from the last office inhabitant, now commonly referred to as "the arse-hole") and we came home in the pouring rain.

Me, Top Left ...

And so very glad I'm not Ms Bottom Right!

I took over 80 pictures the other night ...

... of the whole tv thing. Really I did.
This is not all of them.

You may notice, in some of the pictures, that Miss Tigger is wearing a collar and bell. This has been a long-running saga that finally ended with Miss Tigger wearing the collar only, most of the time, and sans bell. Miss Tigger's teeth-pock-marked collar bell was found the other morning, on one of the cat-post platforms, and I gave up. I have been beaten by a small furry thing that weighs no more than a butterfly.

My secret identity ...

... it occurred to me the other day, when I received an invoice from an email order, that one of my email addresses may lead people to form the impression that my name is Morgan Flora.
It isn't, in case anyone was wondering, the 'flora' from the morgan.flora bit of my email address is my laptop's name.
Still, it may prove useful, I'll tuck it away.

Periodic Table of Swearing ...

... That's all I need to say really, isn't it?from here

Psssst, wanna see some beef?

... last week, or the week before, I can't remember, Italian Food Safari mentioned Bistecca alla Fiorentina.
I casually tweeted a question to @urbanfoodmarket, my new meat hero, wondering if there was any such beef available? Silly question, of course there was.
Today, finally, after much messaging and convoluted and sailing-interrupted arrangements, the puckish Mr @urbanfoodmarket delivered (to my office, the service, o my, I may never set foot in an actual shop ever again) a massive piece of grass-fed happy (well formerly happy) moo cow, 3-fingers thick. Well, 3 of my fingers, 2 of Mr Brown's massive manly man hand fingers.
So, how big is this T-Boned piece of steaky goodness? It's as big as Mr Brown's head. See.For those of you not personally acquainted with the actual dimensions of Mr Brown's bonce I have taken some shots of objects with steak, to assist you in your understanding of the beef's dimensions.
A Granny Smith Apple. A Brown Mouse. A British pound coin and an American quarter dollar. The Loch Ness Monster. A paperback copy of Mr Dalrymple's latest book. A very, very naughty kitten on a totally FORBIDDEN surface where food is prepared. That is all.