Wed Nes Day

I hope everyone had a Happy Eartha Day!

As I was thinking about a title for today’s post, a thought occurred to me. If you married someone named Nes, would your anniversary be Wed Nes Day? Yeah, that’s how my mind works these days. But, at least it is still working, such as it is.

I always appreciate comments here; your feedback means a lot to me. I was gratified to learn that Terry stops by LTG every morning and enjoys the photos I post. After nearly eight years, there’s not much new for me to see around here, but knowing my reader(s) like to partake in the views provides ample motivation to look for things that might be of interest. And here’s a shitload of stuff from yesterday I found worthy of a picture:

As seen on the morning dog walk. One of my pet (no pun intended) peeves is that nothing is done about the stray dogs in the neighborhood. They knock over trash cans, scatter trash, and bark all night. But yeah, you should pick up the spilled trash regardless.

(I lifted some photos from the hike from Scott’s FB page. Credit where it is due, his are marked with an (SP) in the caption.)

The Wednesday Walkers loaded up in a Jeepney and rode it out to the Subic Town marketplace.
This week’s iteration: (L-R) Chris, Steve, Scott, Matthew, and Swan. Plus yours truly.
We stepped out into the busy market streets.
The Haves…
…and the Have Nots.
There are worse things than living on the riverside, though. And at least, you are close to town. (SP)
That’s about enough of this traffic. Let’s walk through the ‘hood. (SP)
Ah, this guy was born the same year as me. Hope you enjoyed your ride through life.
Crossing the river again on a footbridge this time.
I’m coming! I’m coming! (SP)
More river dwellers.
Pond scum.
An almost Moses-like moment. (SP)
Some youngsters were treated to lollipops. (SP)
What the hell? Nazis in the Philippines! Who’d a thunk it?
I was still shaking my head about the swastika when I saw this. Fine, be that way!
Onward we go.
The Walking Not Dead Yet.
Another river crossing.
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ on the river.
A grave concern.
River kids.
Walled in.
Peace be unto you! (SP)
The locals were friendly and welcoming as we passed through their village. (SP)
A shady spot on the river.
Over a couple of rickety bridges.
If it held me, it will hold you, Scott.
It’s nice to be out and about in places like this. (SP)
Another pond.
Maybe he’ll grow up to be Tarzan.
I was sad to see that since my last time out this way, someone has cut down all those big trees. I suspect that means some type of development is forthcoming.
The highlight of the morning for me was seeing my lola friend and her grandkids again. They are by far the most thankful for the pittance I throw their way on the occasions when our paths cross.
That’s where the lola calls home.
Another neighborhood greeting. (SP)
Passing the time, however comfortably and well. (SP)
Making a living as best as she can. (SP)
See you next time, kiddos. (SP)
Our 5K journey looked like this.
Or this. (Scott’s map.)

So, that was the morning portion of the day. At beer o’clock, I headed back out. Wednesday is the Baloy Beach routine. Swan had an errand to attend to, so she joined me a bit later on the floating bar.

A relatively quiet day on Baloy.
The captain of this sailboat was enjoying some liquid refreshments on the floating bar.
Sun in the sky and on the water.
And here comes that girl of mine, just in time to see the show.
Bye-bye, you!

The music was crap when I arrived, but I held my tongue because the other passengers outnumbered me and didn’t seem bothered. When they left, I politely asked the cashier if I could hear something I liked, and she immediately switched the playlist to classic rock. Thanks for that!

Back ashore, we popped into Treasure Island. Neither of us was hungry (I can thank Ozempic for that, not sure what Swan’s excuse might be). We did share a chicken quesadilla, but had two slices leftover that we gave to the bartender. I may not be eating healthy, but I’m eating less!

When we were ready to head home, we couldn’t find a trike, so we walked most of the way back to the highway before catching a ride. Hey, extra steps never hurt anybody, right?

From Facebook memories:

Seven years ago, I was chillaxin’ at Cheap Charlies. Back then, I enjoyed a San Miguel Zero and my vape pens. I don’t miss the vaping, but it looks like I won’t be having a Zero beer again. The search AI says: “San Miguel Zero is no longer available in the Philippines due to a strategic decision by San Miguel Brewery to focus on other products in their portfolio. The company has shifted its emphasis towards different beer offerings that align with market demand.” Damn, I guess I wasn’t demanding enough.

I’ll be going to Cheap Charlies this evening for old times’ sake.

And now it is November 2018 in the LTG archives. I’m still enjoying family time back home in Columbia, South Carolina, like this Halloween celebration. Those days are gone, but not forgotten, even if I have been.

Today’s YouTube video turned out to be surprisingly interesting to me. What was driving like in the USA back in the 1930s? Well, thanks to some old photographs and AI enhancements, we can now see for ourselves.

My humor never gets old, right? Right?

Obviously, as a former letter carrier, I never stole from the mail. But at Christmas, some customers would leave an envelope for me in the mailbox. One dollar meant a lot more to me from the little old lady on social security than ten bucks for the folks in the rich subdivision.
Sometimes there is no wisdom in wit.
I’m sorry you feel that way.

And that’s all for this time. Thanks for reading! Y’all are my last connection to the outside world.

I know I’ve posted this song before, and I just came across it again in the archives. It’s even older than me, but it tickles my fancy anyway.

Act naturally

Nah, not me. Tomorrow is another day.

There’s never much of interest to write about in my routine life, but Tuesdays are the emptiest day of my week. I mean, where’s the excitement in grocery shopping, right? On a positive note, at least this post will be a short one. Promise!

So, the aforementioned shopping at the YBC and Royal supermarkets went without incident. But I was in for a big surprise when I got back home. Before heading out at beer o’clock, I prepare my bedtime snack so I don’t have to mess with doing so under the influence of alcohol. And my preferred dessert to overcome my ice cream addiction is a nice bowl of sugar-free pudding. Like most imported foods these days, it ain’t cheap — $2.20 per box at Royal. Yesterday, I purchased four. So, I reached into the cabinet and grabbed a box. Opened the box, only to discover the brown paper bag inside was unopened, but empty. I have no idea how that could happen, but I assume there was a fuck-up in the manufacturing process. So, I reached back into the cabinet for another box, and WTF, it was empty too.

I’ve never seen anything like it before in my life. And as a 70-year-old, that’s saying something!

At least the other two boxes had their content, so I got my pudding fix. I’ll take the empties back to Royal next week and see if they want to make things right.

I also paid a visit to Dr. Jo’s office for my weekly Ozempic injection. I’ve now begun my second month, and so the dosage has gone from low to moderate. The cost has gone up as well — 6,800 pesos for the next four injections. It will be interesting to see what side effects I may experience with the higher dose and whether my weight loss accelerates. I only dropped 1.1 pounds last week, but I guess that’s progress. After one month on Ozempic, my total loss was 7.3 pounds. The biggest difference I’ve noticed (besides going without ice cream and candy) is not craving between-meal snacks, and I’m frequently leaving leftovers on my dinner plate. We’ll see what happens this month with twice the amount of the drug in my system.

I don’t know if being grumpy is a side effect, but I only ate about half of that taco.

My other Tuesday routine is playing in the Alley Hideout dart tournament. Since I can’t be fucked with practicing during the week, my performance is not getting any better. Last night, my partner shot every bit as badly as I did, and we were two games and out without winning a single leg.

How low can I go? I admit, it’s a tad embarrassing to throw like shit.

Still, being in the dart bar once a week is something different, so unless I get tired of being ashamed of myself, I’ll show up and let the arrows fly. Such as they are.

We did a brief nightcap at Gold Bar after darts, then called it a night. I had a bowl of sugar-free pudding waiting for me in the fridge.

Via Facebook memories, an interesting coincidence from four years ago:

I had the same partner as I did last night, Agnes. We finished third back then. What’s changed?

Wrapping up October 2018 in the LTG archives. I’m back in the USA after a 30-hour trip. At least I flew business class. Being back “home” was like traveling back in time. But some of the memories from the most recent iteration of my life in South Carolina were overwhelming. I’m not saying that life in the USA is bad, but I came to realize it was not the life for me, despite all the fun I had with my kids and grandkids. I haven’t been back since that trip.

For today’s YouTube video, let’s take a pictorial journey back to the glory days of the 1970s. What a life we lived!

Humor time:

Well, as long as he is commatose, why not work on his colon? I hear it is in semi-bad shape.
Actually, I never did notice that before. I wonder if the “S” is for shit?
Or Santa Claws?

Yeah, I’d better give it a rest. Time to get on with living my day so I can write about tomorrow!

Hash en fuego

And there is plenty of both at the Hash.

Not a bad Hash yesterday, although perhaps a little boring. Of course, had I done the trail the Hares laid, I’d likely have been a lot worse than bored. In addition to a couple of crazy climbs, one of the hilltops was on fire. Literally. That’s not the fault of the Hares; someone decided to do a burn up there after the trail was laid. Glad I missed it!

Call us lame or cripples, but the like-minded Hashers met up in Alta Vista and went about things our way.
We took a flat and mostly paved route.
But we did walk a good portion of Trail #1702—the portion without the big hills.
See that fire up there? That’s near the Hash trail we didn’t take.
Here’s a shot taken by one of the Hashers who did go that way. I’m told the flames had already burned out by the time the Hashers passed, but the embers were still smoldering.
Looking back at Alta Vista from here.
We did have some uphill work.
What goes up, must come down.
Those are the steps I have to climb on the Sunday Sweets Stroll. I like them much better going down.
This residence right on the National Highway caught my eye for some reason.
We arrived on the bay.
And headed for the river.
Strolling past the beached boats.
Kids hanging out on the roof.
Our vehicle for the river crossing awaits.
Not as comfortable as it looks.
Disembarking wasn’t much fun either.
Back on the beach and headed On-Home.
The shady-looking entrance to our On-Home venue, Kim’s Place.
Hashers doing what Hashers do after the hike.
One of the Hashers treated me to an American Miller Lite beer. It was damn good.
On the beach for the Hash Circle.
Hares on the ice. L-R, Fuck Buddy, Anal Intruder, Derby’s Bitch, and My Mouth Is Shut.
At the Circle. You can see the Kokomo’s Floating Bar in the background.
Time is passing.
And another Hash Monday draws to a close.

The usual after-Hash gathering at It Doesn’t Matter, then we were homeward bound.

Continuing with the journey through the October 2018 LTG archives, where I’m actively engaged in the dating game. These old posts remind me of events I’d have otherwise forgotten. Like my date with Cherry, a woman I met on a dating website. We had a great first date, and I was really excited about getting to know her better. We met up for lunch the next day, and Cherry came home with me for an afternoon of passion. We parted with a plan for her to join me at the Hash the following day. I’m thinking, maybe I’ve met the one. I hadn’t. You can read what happened here.

Damn, girl. You don’t know what you missed. Or maybe you do.

Today’s YouTube video features a warning from Rod Serling for us all. Sorta like George Orwell told us about in 1984. I was a big Twilight Zone fan growing up, but I’m sure I missed the messages like this one.

Let’s take a timeout for smiles:

Don’t worry, Sloppy Joe’s is open 24 hours.
I feel sorry for the 18-year-olds.
Checkmate.

And so it went, and so it goes. I’ll try again tomorrow.

And Johnny can’t grammar either.

Crawler

Yeah, me too.

Things have taken a turn for the better, so there’s that. And really, I’ve gained some insights that will provide comfort going forward. Promises are made to be broken, and words don’t always mean what they say. But I don’t want someone with me because of a promise. True love sometimes requires sacrifice, and if someone is not happy with me, I’d let them go, no matter the pain it brings. As I contemplated a life without her, I knew I’d be okay as long as she was happy. And after our talk this morning, she assures me that she will be happy staying by my side. So, onward we go to the next hurdle.

As for yesterday, there was the Sunday Sweets Stroll.

The only photo on the walk I was inspired to take was the dirty water of the Matain River. Coming to beach nearby soon.

My Sunday evening plans were unsettled, but I decided to kick things off at Harley’s on Baloy.

My view upon arrival. A little later, I was able to belly up to the bayside counter that I prefer.
A look to the right. It was low tide, and it was nice to see that rock, which is usually submerged.
And a look to the left at the Mangrove Resort.
The Kalaklan Ridge and the boat-filled waters of the Subic Bay.
I zoomed in for a better view of the hillside dwellers on Kalaklan.
A fisher of men? I thought it would be funny if that guy bit the one with the pole.
I had a shrimp cocktail for dinner.

It was time to move on, so I made SnackBar my next stop.

The lovely view of the 7-Eleven parking lot from my outdoor table at SnackBar.

I was thinking I’d make Queen Victoria my next stop, but it was only after I’d crossed the highway that I remembered Queen Vic is closed on Sunday. Oh well, I dodged traffic again and paid a rare visit to the Outback Billabong Bar.

Turns out, they were hiring.
I had a beer, but decided I was overqualified to be an Outback customer, so I left.

I figured as long as I was on a roll with seldom-visited bars, I might as well see what was going on at Lux.

A very nicely appointed venue, but I was the only customer there to enjoy the ambiance.
It must be hard to dance without an audience, but at least they all stood up when I arrived.

I still had thirty minutes to kill before it was time to head home, so I crossed the highway once more and popped into Gold Bar for the final beer.

And once again, I was the only customer. Honestly, I don’t know how these bars stay in business. Granted, Gold Bar is usually busy; maybe it’s a Sunday thing.

Having drunk my fill, I grabbed a trike and headed home. Those smoothies weren’t going to make themselves. And so ended another day in paradise.

Continuing with the October 2018 LTG archives, I reflect on the routines I’d established after being retired in the Philippines for five months. I called the post “Comfortably Numb,” and by golly, I’m still following the same regimen: walkaholic by day, alcoholic at night.

Today’s YouTube video discusses some of the realities of retired life in the PI. I spend a lot more than the average bear, I guess, but I like livin’ large.

Humor me:

No!
Different strokes for different folks.
With every breath you take!

And now it’s time to get ready for another Hash Monday. Yes, us cripples have already identified our shortcut trail. That’s just the way we roll.

Still caring, but not daring

But I repeat myself.

And here I am, still trying to figure out what happens next and where I go from there. I guess time is on my side, so for now, I’m sticking with Option #1: riding it out. Things may not be ideal at the moment, but given my history, there’s no need to rush and make things worse. I have begun considering other options if circumstances warrant. I’m sorry, but I’m not able to be more specific than that for the time being.

My melancholy day included a Decay Dance.

The same-old 5K route. Nothing new to see along the way that was worthy of a photo.

A solo Saturday evening in Barretto.

I kicked things off at Red Bar, where manager Ashley gave her usual warm welcome.
Then I moved on to Jumpin’ Jacks. It was just one other customer there and me. We were all enjoying watching the pool game.
It’s a shit pic, but that guy in the back by the television was making the night for the gals. They had a blast playing pool with him, and he bought at least two rounds of shots for the crew during my visit. It’s guys like him who are keeping the bars in business these days.
I snacked on some calamari rings from the Jumpin’ Jack kitchen. They were good, but I still only ate half of them. Thank you, Ozempic!

And then I grabbed a trike and took my sorry ass home. I’m pathetic, I know. Hey, it’s who I am, you’d think I’d be used to it by now.

On to the October 2018 LTG archives. I was spending a lot of time at Treasure Island back in my early days in the Philippines. I’d become quite friendly with the staff, and when Jessa turned 30, I took them all out for a movie and birthday dinner. And yes, I got my chance with Jessa about a year later, but of course, I fucked it up. Jessa and I are still friends on Facebook, and she seems to be doing well, having found a new love and life in Subic. Kat found work on a cruise ship, met an Aussie bloke, got married, and now lives in the land down under. RuRu is an OFW working in Qatar.

Jessa, RuRu, me, and Kat. Damn, I hope I can fit into those jeans again someday.

Today’s YouTube video resonates. Most expats didn’t run away; they chased a dream. Of course, some dreams don’t come true, but at least we tried and made the best of it. My favorite quote from a John Greenleaf Whittier poem sums it up: “God pity us both, and pity us all, who vainly the dreams of youth recall. For of all the sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: it might have been.” Damn, how did I remember that line?

Time out for humor:

I’d forgotten what a Phrygian was.
Why yes, yes I am!
That’s one of the golden oldies from my bar joke repertoire. Nice to see it brought to life.

And life goes on. I’m going to make the best of it.

We did not start the fire

At least I’m consistent.

On and on it goes. We’ll see what happens when I get there, wherever that may be. In the meantime, you gotta fill them hours. This is how my Friday went down:

The other joiners in the Friday hike were Steve and Swan.

We climbed up to the ridge that runs through Barretto. It starts with some steps, and as I neared the top of the first section, I got attacked by a dog in a way I never saw coming. The dog was at the top, and I was maybe five steps below him when he leaped out and hit me square in the chest. He bounced off and then continued down to the street. No bites, thankfully. It’s also good that I maintained my balance; had I fallen backward, I would have been in a world of hurt.

Once we were on the ridge, I was amazed at the scope of a recent burn.
I don’t know if it started on the Barretto side, but it burned to the top and back down again.
Not having to fight through the tall thatch grass was a nice side-effect of the burn.
I’m sure this tree will survive even if its leaves are all brown now.
The view is still nice.
After all these years, I still don’t know who starts these fires and what keeps them from spreading as the wildfires do back home in California.
Twelve years younger than me. Rest in Peace.

I started my three-hour beer drinking window at It Doesn’t Matter. The place is nothing like it used to be when Cliff and Ashley were in charge. I know there were some customers inside for the pool tournament, but I was alone in the outdoor section.

This too shall pass.

It was a rather disappointing vibe, but I sipped down three beers between 4:30 and 6 pm, then headed over to Sloppy Joe’s. Sloppy’s was busy, but I got my street-view, countertop seat, settled in, and ordered a pulled pork sandwich for dinner. I mostly just ate the meat.

I did my nightcap at Wet Spot, and it was hoppin’ too. Of course, I took care of my regulars with lady drinks, whilst dispersing cookies and lollipops to the rest of the crew. It was the first time all evening that I had someone to talk to. And then my time allotment for drinking expired, so I paid my tab and headed home.

Was it all as depressing as it sounds? Yeah, maybe.

On to October 2018 in the LTG archives. In this post, I talk about my life after four months in the Philippines. The purpose of my diving into the archives is to identify posts that might be included when I write The Story of My Life. Who knows, maybe someone will be interested.

As much as I bitch and moan, I recognize that I’m living a blessed life. In today’s YouTube video, The Filipina Pea shares the story of what life is like for one poverty-stricken father.

Smile while you can:

Bible stories are hard to believe. It’s a matter of faith. I lost mine at 14 years old.
The ship docked, and the woman gave birth while berthed.
If you say so.

Sorry for the lack of excitement around here. Then again, it is best to avoid the painful kind.

Say it anyway

Thank you, Mr. President!

Today’s post title is the answer to the question: What do you say when you ain’t got nothin’ to say? I’ll keep it as painless as possible. Anyway, I’m still not sure what the fuck is going on with my life, but I’m preparing for any contingency. Sorry to keep y’all in suspense, but I need more time to figure this out.

In the meantime, there’s yesterday to tell you about, such as it was.

Rest in Peace, Angelito. Never met, but I walked by your place on occasion.

And that’s the only photo I took during my 6K Naugsol loop hike. I guess I just wasn’t in the mood.

It was a hot and sweaty journey, but otherwise pleasant enough.

I was on my own in town yesterday, and started things off at the familiar Cheap Charlies. I took my usual seat facing the highway, and lo and behold, Hot Zone owner Jay came outdoors with his pet.

A big, yellow boa constrictor.
That’s something you don’t see every day.
I also saw “Mama” resting next to her dream boyfriend.
That bathroom view is a pisser.
Someone forgot to close the curtains.
Then that time of day happened again.
That sinking feeling.
Adios!

So, I ordered a snack for myself and some food for the girls from Foodies downstairs. Maintained my one-beer-per-30-minute pace and chilled. After seeing Jay and his snake, I realized it had been a year or more since my last visit to Hot Zone. One of the reasons for my absence is the relatively late opening of 7 pm. Nothing was stopping me last night, though. Since I still had fifteen minutes before Hot Zone opened, I went to the bar next door, Bob’s, for a beer.

Yikes! The doorgirl recognized me from when she worked at Blue Butterfly and invited me inside. I was the only customer in a relatively small bar. There were four unattractive gals on stage and a drunk or crazy waitress who accosted me as soon as I sat down. That ain’t my style, and I felt very uncomfortable in her grabby presence. I downed my beer and got the hell out of there in record time.

Hot Zone was quiet with only one other customer when I arrived. But oh, what a difference you see in a well-run bar. The dancers were all in uniform, slender and attractive. The waitstaff was numerous and attentive, but didn’t hover around your table like hungry mosquitoes. The mamasan I remembered from previous visits was still there, and she came to my table for a nice chat. I was dismayed to learn that Hot Zone no longer offers single-lady drinks; you have to buy a bottled drink for 300 pesos. Sorry, I have my limits (200 pesos). I did share some cookies and lollipops with the staff, which seemed to be appreciated. Owner Jay, the former Grandmaster of the Subic Hash, came out to greet me and bought me a beer. It was nice catching up with him again. Girly bars are really not my thing, but I can attest that Hot Zone is by far the best I’ve seen in Barretto.

And then my time was up, so I grabbed a trike for home.

From the September 2018 LTG archives, I entertain my first visitor since the move to the PI, my nephew Justin. In this post, I share the experience of his first night on the town in Barretto.

Checking in with Reekay for today’s YouTube video. He discusses the pros and cons of relationships post-retirement. As usual, he makes some valid points. To my thinking, it all comes down to the individual and his tolerance for drama. I’m not sure there is any such thing as a peaceful relationship, but then, what do I know? I’m the stereotypical bad example.

My humor is a little off as well.

I understand gas is more expensive these days.
They appear to be a good fit.
Is that the naked truth?

And that’s all I’ve got for today.

Doing that again

Maybe I’ve always been grumpy.

Sometimes life can be a real kick in the balls. I’ll wait for the pain to reside before deciding what to do next. In the meantime, here’s a quick rundown of the good parts of the day.

Steve and Matthew joined me for the Wednesday Walk.
Matthew had a difficult time with the climb. I chose that way up because it is moderately easy. Oops!
The view from here.
Steve was enjoying the shady spots.
Just shy of 6K.

Later in the day, I took Swan to Baloy Beach.

Toes in the sand.
As seen from the floating bar, a loaded freighter arrives in Subic Bay. Hopefully, the tankers aren’t far behind.
Those jet skis need fuel, you know.
The floating bar crew taking a dance break.
A one-eyed old guy with two young cuties. Ain’t the Philippines grand?
Looking back at Baloy.
And then this happened.
Bye-bye, you.

Back on the beach at Treasure Island for dinner.

We shared a beef enchilada—one-half of one each. I had the other one for lunch.

After dinner, things took a turn for the worse. I’m still waiting to see what happens next.

Back to September 2018 LTG archives, where I share what a fool believes. Some nice insights, but the self-actualization didn’t stop future fuck-ups.

Today’s YouTube shares the pros and cons of city versus province living. I’m pretty much somewhere in the middle, and that works for me.

Once again:

I’m sure he does, too.
Ah, I did enjoy my years as a letter carrier with USPS.
…and out!

But life goes on until it doesn’t, so nothing to be done but make the best of it while you can.

In and out

Speak for yourself, I’m old for my age.

Sometimes it is the little things that feel like a ray of hope. Yesterday morning, I managed to navigate my way through an online registration process and then pay for the event via a wire transfer service. Trust me, in my state of diminished mental capacity, that’s quite the accomplishment!

And talk about optimistic, I’m making plans for 2027! Hopefully, I’ll still be around to enjoy it.

I also managed to log in to my credit union website and unlock my credit card for my grocery shopping excursion. And then I locked it again when I got back home. Fuck you, scammers!

There was an incident at the YBC grocery store that left me feeling a bit crushed. I was picking up a case of 16-ounce plastic bottles of Diet Coke, and somehow the stack of quart bottles toppled over onto me, briefly pinning my neck and shoulders to where the Diet Cokes had been. I was able to squirm out from underneath, but damn, that could have been a whole LOT worse. The looks from the nearby store employees seemed to indicate they thought it was my fault somehow. No one even said sorry.

After shopping, I paid a visit to Dr. Jo for my final low-dose injection of Ozempic. Next week, I’ll start the medium-dose routine. I’m thinking that if that works out, I might not go with the high-dose phase, but we shall see. In the meantime, my appetite has been diminished, I’m mostly avoiding the sweet stuff, and my weight continues to trend downward.

According to my scale, on March 17, when I received my first injection, I weighed 262.1 pounds. Yesterday morning, my reading was 254.6, down 7.5 pounds in just under a month. I can live with that.

I was once again on the fence about playing darts in the Tuesday tournament at Alley Hideout, but I chucked a few at home and threw surprisingly well. Alas, that didn’t carry over to the tourney, and once again, it was one win, two losses, and out. I haven’t managed to recapture any passion for the game whatsoever, so I’m totally unmotivated to practice and improve. Last night I was thinking, why do I even bother. But then, the folks at Alley Hideout are like old friends, Swan also knows some of the gals that visit and enjoys the chit-chat with them. I reckon going once a week just for the change of scenery is good enough. I don’t care if I win or lose anymore.

I was hungry after my elimination and decided to visit the fish-and-chips shop across the highway. Swan and I shared one medium order.

I took a photo from our stool (it’s an open-air venue) but neglected to get a shot of the food. Oh well, it satisficed.

Queen Victoria bar is directly across the highway, and that’s where we went for our nightcap.

Queen Vic on a Tuesday evening.

It’s hard to see, but this guy rolled into the bar in a wheelchair. I was both sad and impressed. Sad to see him crippled at a relatively young age, but impressed that he is out doing what he enjoys regardless.

You can kinda see in the cropped version of the photo that he has one of the dancers enjoying a lady drink with him.

Swan assured me that she would be there to push me around town whenever I wanted, should I become wheelchair-bound. I’d prefer to just take her word for it.

To her credit, Swan does seem to enjoy my farts.

Finished our drinks at Queen Vic, and as we headed out, I suggested we cross the highway once again and stop by the fruit and vegetable stand there. I was in a smoothie mood, but we had no bananas. As a long-term expat, I know how the game is played, so I fell behind and let Swan negotiate the price without the skin tax. We walked away with a kilo for 100 pesos. The smoothie was excellent, if I do say so myself. And that’s the sweet ending to another day in paradise.

Continuing the journey through the September 2018 LTG archives, and I encounter a cesspool of drama: in darts, with the GF, and with someone who chose to no longer be friends. It was sad to remember that Greg, cause of the dart drama, died a few months later. Meanwhile, I’ve developed a near-zero tolerance for drama these days.

I mentioned the skin tax bullshit, which is pretty prevalent here in the Philippines. Today’s YouTube video talks about that scam, and like me, he sends his girlfriend in alone when a purchase is to be made.

Time to smile:

Maybe they mix them with whiskey…
Maybe you should step it up instead. My goal is 15,000 per day.
You think that’s bad? I just had to look up the meaning of both. If I ever knew, it is one more thing I’ve forgotten.

I guess that’s why I take comfort in my routines; they help remind me of what day it is. And today is the day I visit Baloy. Time to get on with it.

Since it is tax day back home in the USA, let me share this classic from Remy:

Hashship Enterprise

That’s a photo from the LTG archives. As true now as ever. Especially when I’m the stupid one.

It wasn’t much of a Hash yesterday; there were only 24 Hashers in attendance, even fewer on the trail. I was one of the naysayers, of course, and did 5.5K my way. Swan shared in the fun, so I didn’t have to do it alone.

Stared out a portion of the My Bitch trail. Does that qualify as a double entendre?
It was laundry day down by the creek bed.
Swan says loose rocks under your feet are the worst. She may be right about that.
Getting tired going down.
A rustic dwelling.
Retired.
Dispensing lollipops along the way.
As you can see, there was a retreat involved—still, no regrets about avoiding the trail I didn’t take.
At the Circle, we honored Husky Fucker, the Miss Fralics contestant, with the Hashshit.
Cums Alone was recognized for her 77th run with the SBH3.
And we made Dripping Pussy a birthday cake.

It was run number #1701 for the Subic Bay Hash, and as promised, I stood up and made the following announcement:

Since the On-Home was at It Doesn’t Matter, there wasn’t far to go to get to the after-Hash gathering. I don’t know if it is Ozempic-related, but I’ve mastered the art of making a twelve-ounce bottle of San Miguel Light last me for thirty minutes. That reduces my consumption rate by three or four bottles over the course of a Hash. Progress!

In other news, Swan prepared her second batch of homemade birria tacos.

This batch of dipping sauce was much more to both our liking. The shells were a tad crispier this time, though.

And now I’ve moved on to the September 2018 LTG archives, and sure enough, I’m still posting about loves past and doubting my future prospects with Marissa. But at least I’ve come to acknowledge that just maybe I’m the problem.

Today’s YouTube video offers a rare positive take on tourism and expat life in the Philippines. He says tourism numbers are actually up, at least in the trendy hot spots. Barretto isn’t among those, of course, but the vibe here is that things are in decline. We’ll see what the future brings.

Here’s your daily dose of humor:

Maybe a different kind of hell awaits.
Whatever you say, dear.
You’ve got to be an old fuck like me to get this one. I STILL dream of Jeanie!

And with that, this post is over and done with. Roger that, Tony?

Reach for the stars!

Miss Fralics 2026

I am what I am, it is what it is.

Yesterday’s excursion to San Antonio for the annual FRA beauty pageant went okay. Swan’s friend Mercy drove us safely there and back again, so that’s always a plus. The pageant stayed on schedule, which wasn’t the case last year. I didn’t win any of the raffles, but then, I never expected to. Despite arriving almost two hours early, all the best seats with an unobstructed view of the stage were already taken. So, my photos are not the best, but they will at least give you a flavor of the event. Here, see for yourself:

The stage is set.
My tablemates.
Judge not, lest ye be judged.

There were eight contestants. Here they are displaying their swimwear:

Contestant #1.
#2 is Roxy, the Subic Hasher.
#3
#4
#5
#6
#7 (My personal favorite)
And finally, #8.
A group prance about.
Let the judging begin.

There were three categories: casual wear, talent, and swimwear. The “talent” for seven of the contestants was dancing, and the other one sang karaoke-style. And now for the results:

Roxy was third runner-up.
Second runner-up.
And Miss Fralics 2026.
The Hash contingent.

We arrived in San Antonio a little after 12, and headed home around 4:30. That’s a longer beer window than normal for me, plus I’d missed my afternoon nap. So, I had no desire to leave again after we got back home. I did grab a beer and headed up to The Rite Spot On the Roof to watch this:

It’s the only shot I got.

So, despite being a notorious early bird, I judged it to be even too early for a lightweight like me to go to bed. So, I plopped my sorry ass down on the couch in front of the TV for the first time in I don’t know how long. I scrolled through some of the Netflix offerings and decided that “Yellowstone” looked interesting enough to give it a watch. I wasn’t even halfway through the first episode before the WOKE bullshit about the poor mistreated Native Americans was thrown in my face (we stole their land, don’t you know?). I said, “Fuck this,” and turned off the television.

Yeah, I went to bed before 8 pm and had a good night’s sleep. No regrets.

In the LTG August 2018 archives, it is my 63rd birthday. I celebrate it with a post about all the places I’ve lived during this version of my lifetime. It’s been a good ride so far.

Back when I lived in Korea, I would occasionally encounter a bar with signage indicating that only Koreans were allowed to enter. I’d just shrug and walk away because who wants to go where they are not wanted. In Angeles City, Koreans have taken over many of the girly bars, and guess what, they don’t want Filipinos inside. Well, someone complained to a famous Filipino investigative journalist, Raffy Tulfo, and as today’s YouTube video demonstrates, all hell has broken loose.

I’ve heard some of the AC Korean bars don’t want white guys either. But once the government came knocking, it was just a misunderstanding.

The funny part is that it was Filipino staff denying entry to their fellow Filipinos.

Here are some more smiles for you:

Good to know!
Some things are more valuable than money.
I’m trying to remember what a bathtub is.

And here we go with another Hash Monday. The Hare is on my notorious list, so I’ve got some alternative trails in mind. I will walk to the start and decide what to do from there. Tell you all about it tomorrow.

Bound for San Antonio

Yep, especially when the music is too loud. It sucks to get old, but it is still better than the alternative.

Okie dokie, I’m heading out to San Antonio (an hour or so away) to attend the FRALICS beauty pageant this afternoon at the Fleet Reserve Association (FRA).

Where I’ll be.
It’s always nice to get out of town for a change of scenery.

And a scene of lovely young ladies competing is especially nice. They say beauty is in the eye of the beerholder, and I’ll be enjoying those as well.

So, before I go, let me do a quick review of yesterday. Starting with the weekly Decay Dance.

Candy is dandy.
Two backpacks and a big sack hold the 250 bags of tooth decay we will be delivering.
Let’s do this!
A regular cluster of kids lives here.
Lots more kids in Marian Hills.
A granny lives here with her grandson.
Easter Mountain is on our horizon.
Most of our “customers” live in decrepit shanties like this one.
Hillside living.
Another neighborhood with lots of kids.
Swan bought a kilo of tomatoes for 60 pesos.
Come and get it!
Comparatively luxurious.
Restocking the goodie bag at the foot of Bridge #3.
A riverside dwelling.
Sweets for the sweet.
There’s that mountain again.
The final compound of the morning.
Our sweet 5K journey.

Then it was time for our evening fun. Didn’t really have a plan, but we wound up going to some places we don’t normally visit.

We saw Scott at Annex Bar as we walked past, so we popped in to say hello. I had a beer, but they don’t serve wine, which is why we rarely come here.
I do love the decor which is nearly as old as I am.
Swan was hungry, so we made Myleen’s for dinner our next stop. Yeah, we had birria tacos again.

Then we hit up Nipsey’s Bar for the first time in a long time.

They even changed the music to suit my mood. Then again, we were the only customers, so why wouldn’t they?

Then we strolled down the highway and popped into Queen Victoria Bar to finish our evening.

I’d guess there were five gals to every customer. I’m not sure how that works for the bottom line, especially when people like me bring our own sand to the beach.

And then we hopped in a trike and rode on home. Around midnight, I woke up in a pool of sweat. Seems there was a brownout (power outage) and the fans had shut down. That lasted for an uncomfortable two hours and impacted my ability to sleep. And now as I write this post, the power is out once again. Looks like I picked a good day to get out of town.

Swan taking time to smell the flowers on our morning dog walk.

From Facebook memories, eight years ago I had my last Korean haircut.

Ah, to be (relatively) young again!

From the August 2018 LTG archives, the on-again, off-again romance with Marissa drama continues. I should have known better than to keep coming back for more. Hell, I DID know better, but sometimes it’s easier to be stupid, I guess.

For today’s YouTube video, let’s time-travel back to the Philippines in the post-war 1940s. Yeah, to hell with the “do-over life,” I’ll settle for a time machine.

One last thing before I go:

As my father was wont to say, “That just frosts my balls!”
Yeah, my body wants ice cream…
I’ll die trying…

Okay, perhaps tomorrow I’ll have something a tad more interesting to post. At least the pictures should be more reflective of the inherent beauty to be seen in the Philippines.

Mataining

Your loss…

So, Matain (Maw-tah-in) is a barangay when you cross the river on the way out of Barretto. You can’t get to the Subic side of things without passing through, and that’s what we did for our Friday group hike. And when I say “we,” I mean Swan and me, who were once again the only participants.

We walked the length of Baloy Long Beach.
Where the river meets the bay.
The boat that ferried us across the Matain River.
Beached boats.
Floating boats.
One of the narrow passages that permeates Matain.
The route of our 5K journey.

And since it was a day ending in a “y,” at beer o’clock we headed into Barretto.

A tree I liked along the way.

First stop, the salon where I get my haircut.

Mission accomplished! No wonder I’m known as “Gwapo” in these parts.

Since we were in the neighborhood, we crossed the highway and enjoyed our first beverages of the evening at Red Bar.

We even found the rare empty seat at the backslappers’ table, joining managers Ashley and Cliff, along with Roxy, a waitress at IDM. Roxy is also a Hasher (Husky Fucker) and will be competing in the FRALICS beauty pageant tomorrow. Swan and I are planning to attend.

Then we moved on to Cheap Charlies.

Just a couple of other customers during our visit. (Ha, I just noticed I’m giving you the finger!)
My favorite.
That highway view from Cheap Charlies.

We did our nightcap at Wet Spot and had our usual good time, especially as measured by the number of lady drinks we purchased. Then, as bedtime approached, we headed on home where I prepared a batch of smoothies before calling it a night.

Is that last sentence correct? It seems I have compound predicate issues.

Kevin Kim has been working diligently to teach me (if you haven’t signed up for his grammar lessons on Substack, you should!), but I keep fucking up. It doesn’t help that Grammarly has a contrary view, although I trust Kevin more.

In other news, it seems I may been in line for a blowjob:

That sucks.

And Swan has finally lost her virginity:

Her first time making a birria taco. We both liked the taco, but the dipping sauce needs some work.

Continuing with the August 2018 LTG archives, it’s three months into my life in the Philippines, and I have no friends. Eight years on, I still don’t have many. That’s okay, I have my Hash buddies, my hiking pals, and my drinking companion. If people don’t like me, it’s their loss. In this post, I talk about a couple of interesting folks I met at Wet Spot, including Dave Fischer. I still feel his presence every time I’m there.

In today’s YouTube video, the Filipina Pea reports on the impact of rising prices throughout the Philippines. As usual, it is the people who can afford it the least (trike drivers, sari-sari store owners, etc.) who are hurting the most. I fear things are going to get worse before they get better. I live in excess, so I’ll be fine. It’s hard to watch the suffering of the poor folks around me, though.

There’s a theme in today’s humor, see if you can tell what it is:

o no!
Carolyn sounds like someone I know. At first, I thought “weigh in” needed a hyphen, but the Google AI god says no.
May the wind always fill your sales.

Yeah, I did that last one on purpose. Although I’ve always fancied myself a writer of sorts (high school journalism, creative writing, legal briefs, blogging), I’ve never mastered the intricacies of proper grammar and punctuation. It always sounds right in my head, but even when I’ve been shown the rules, I tend to ignore or misapply them. I’ll keep on trying to do better anyway.

Two, four, six, eight…

…but still I didn’t feel so great.

And now I’m taking meds to give me anorexia.

Even a shit day is better than nothing. That said, I don’t want to waste the days I do have left. I was on my own yesterday and feeling out of sorts. I carried on as best I could, but I wasn’t a happy camper.

For my morning walk, I did a boring stroll through the neighborhood. Then I wrote a shit blog post (aren’t they all?) and took a nap. As beer o’clock approached, I showered up and headed into town. I was going to get a haircut, but couldn’t be bothered, so I kicked things off at Sloppy Joe’s.

The first beer of the day.

I had a second Sloppy beer, then paid my tab and headed up the highway to Red Bar. When I arrived, the music was blaring so loud that I turned around to leave. Bartender Rolen asked what was wrong, and I pointed at the speaker. He nodded and said he’d turn it down, so I ordered beer #3. My next aggravation was two loud drunks sitting at the table across from me. It was painful to watch their obnoxious behavior, but thankfully, they left shortly thereafter, so I had another beer.

It being a two-and-done kind of evening, I paid my Red Bar tab and hit the road again.

I passed the Catholic church but found no comfort in the vision. It is a clean place, though. Immaculate, in fact. That’s my Conception.
The red sky and highway traffic as I made my way to the Alaska Club.

I only visit Alaska once or twice a month, but it is a sentimental favorite. Owner Jerry shouted out a greeting when I arrived, and I plopped myself down at one of the empty tables and ordered beer #5. When the Sit-n-Bull waitress came by, I ordered me some chicken fingers and some lumpia for the gals. I only ate four of the fingers and gave the rest to the dancers. Then I had another beer before departing for home.

I had a bowl of sugar-free pudding, but wasn’t sleepy yet, so I grabbed a beer from the fridge and headed upstairs to The Rite Spot. I did find some comfort in the rocking chair and the city lights below me. So, I went back to the kitchen for night’s brew #8, then up to the roof again.

I went to bed but didn’t sleep well. In fact, I had my worst sleep score since I began tracking via my Fitbit.

That awake time between 1:30 and 3 was filled with snot and sneezing—no idea what’s causing that.

And now I have shared my pain and sorrow with you. Please forgive me!

Onward in the August 2018 LTG archives, and here I am sharing my lived wisdom with a broken-hearted friend. Of course, I talk a better game than I live, and the lessons learned didn’t prevent the heartbreaks yet to come.

Today’s YouTube video talks about the vlogger’s provincial life. The beach town of Mulanay looks nice enough, and one of the things that he likes best is that there is only one other foreigner living there. Hmm, I get that living in an expat town like Barretto isn’t the “real” Philippine lifestyle. Still, I enjoy the company and camaraderie that come with the shared experience of growing old here amongst the familiar faces.

Forgive me once again:

The truth will set you free. RIP.
That’s a little lame.
Again, I apologize. That’s bad even by my low standards. Even the dialogue clouds are off.

So far, today is going somewhat better than yesterday, so there’s that. We’ll see what comes next.

Strollin’ on the river

More often than not, I lack energy.

Not having the best of days today, so let’s get on with this post about yesterday. No other Wednesday Walkers except for Swan and me, so we decided to pay a visit to the lola (grandmother) we help out once in a while. We took the riverwalk from WalterMart option to get there. (Ha-ha, my spellchecker says it should be Walmart. Nope.)

Ridin’ the Jeepney.
Arriving at WalterMart.
Over the river.
Not much of a river this time of year.
On the riverside.
Trying to decide if I should cross this invisible bridge. I opted not to do so.
A shady spot to rest in peace.
Passing through a village.
Riverboats.
Which is scarier, the bridge or what lies beneath?
Let there be comfort in country living.
The path ahead.
They probably never get tired of swinging…
The lola always screams with delight when she sees us. Honestly, slipping her a little cash now and then gives me a great feeling. More of my selfish generosity.
Stacking up the dead bodies.
A family plot. This one caught my eye because the one born in 1876 is the oldest I’ve seen. That’s not a Filipino name, either. I’m curious what his story was. I didn’t find anything on Google.
We went thataway.

Swan declined to join me for the weekly Baloy Beach excursion, so I went alone.

I’ve never seen a funereal banner without the comforting words before. Guess no one liked him either. Still, making it to 90 is quite the achievement.

I had one beer on the Kokomo’s floating bar, then left because of the crap music. I noticed they changed it as soon as I got on the departure raft. Hmm.

So, I dropped into the seldom-visited Kim’s Place on the beach.

A view from Kim’s.
A sun shot from Kim’s.

Then I walked further down the beach and had a beer at Tropical Garden.

The beach view.

Walked back to Treasure Island for some grub.

The pork chops I wanted were not available, so I settled for sweet and sour chicken.

After my meal, I walked to the highway and had my nightcap at Snackbar. Then I triked home and went to bed.

Onward to the August 2018 LTG archives, and in a post on my three-month anniversary of living in the Philippines, I list the top ten ways I’m likely to die here. Almost eight years later, I’m still kickin’, so there’s that. Oh, and I predicted that I was heading for a train wreck with Marissa. But of course, I didn’t get off the train.

Today’s YouTube video discusses how different life in the States feels after living in Asia. I haven’t been back for seven years now, but sometimes in the sports bars I see American television commercials, and it seems like another world. I’m pretty sure I won’t ever be going back “home.”

Funny or not, here they come:

There’s Something About Mary was a great movie.
Shut up and kiss me.
That will work out for you, I’m sure.

Okay, enough of this. Until next time.

Making steps in the right direction

Hold on, hear me out…

Sometimes, you have to give yourself credit. It took me two days, but I managed to jump through the hoops required to get my credit card reactivated. There was a suspicious purchase on the card, and when I reported it as unauthorized, the credit union blocked my card. I went online with them to try and resolve the situation, but was advised to call a number in the USA. I tried to call on Monday, but the automated system said the wait time to speak with an agent was over 1 hour. Um, no thanks. Granted, it was Easter Sunday there, so I kinda sorta understood. I called yesterday morning again, and this time the wait was “only” 10 minutes. When the agent came on the phone, she asked the usual questions to verify who I was, had me jump through a couple of confirmation hoops, and then told me she would transfer me to the person who handles credit card issues. Yep, another ten minutes on hold. I once again explained the situation (my card hadn’t been skimmed, like what happened in Vietnam; this was a vendor double-billing me). We agreed that my purchases would continue to be monitored on both ends and that my card would be reinstated immediately. Yep, that was the highlight of my day.

With my newly restored purchasing power ensconced in my wallet, I was able to take care of the weekly grocery shopping. On the way back home, I had my driver drop me off at Dr. Jo’s office for my third Ozempic injection. I informed her that my appetite continued to be suppressed, with an almost total elimination of between-meal snacks and a tendency to be satisfied with smaller meal portions. The only adverse side-effect so far has been bouts of acid reflux. So, I got my third shot. One more week at the low dosage, then we’ll see how I react to the big jab. Next, Dr. Jo put me on the scale: Down 2 kilograms since last week. Progress!

At the appointed hour, I attended the Alley Hideout Tuesday dart tournament. Overall, I’d rate my game mediocre, but at least I didn’t embarrass myself. Won one and lost two. It is what it is, and since I lack motivation to practice, I’m not likely to show much improvement. But chucking the arrows once or twice a week isn’t a bad change of scenery. The beer at Alley Hideout is cold and wet, just the way I like it.

After my elimination from the tourney, we popped into Gold Bar next door for our nightcap. Surprisingly busy, and we wound up seated behind the stage for the first time.

It’s all a matter of perspective, no ifs, ands, or butts about it.

Then we were homeward bound for a smoothie and a good night’s sleep.

In other news, I loved this Earthset as seen from the Artemis spacecraft:

Why is Pink Floyd playing in my head?

My pal Scott shares some of his old photo albums on Facebook, and it is nice seeing shots from the good ol’ days, most of which were before my time here. But sometimes I recognize someone in the pictures:

That’s Mountain Mama MJ and her kids, probably from around the time Scott introduced us when we ran into her on one of our hikes. I’ve always felt sorry for the children fathered by a now-deceased American, so I send her a monthly stipend to help them get by. Why he didn’t bother to get his own kids citizenship rights (like Social Security) is beyond me.

From the July 2018 LTG archives comes this post where I’m bitching about the worst Hash trail ever. Well, I’ve seen worse since then, but I was still relatively new to the Hash experience at the time. Anyway, it was days like this one that convinced me I needed to take responsibility for my own safety and well-being on the trail. So, I have no shame about taking a shortcut or making my own way as circumstances dictate. The post also mentions the opportunity I had to hook up with a couple of Hash cuties for a threesome, but I wound up bailing on that adventure as well. At least I’m consistent!

Today’s YouTube video shares five things you need to avoid to keep things hoppin’ when you hit 70 years old. I think I’m doing alright for the most part, although I probably do need to drink more water. I’m also going to have Dr. Jo revisit the meds and vitamins I’m dosing daily to make sure there are no internal conflicts. I’m trying to move past the mental stress that comes with knowing time is running out, and I think I’m doing somewhat better in that regard. I want to live to see how I feel when I turn 80!

At least I still have my sense of humor. Such as it is:

He’ll be Biden his time.
But it is the best star in the solar system!
Ain’t that the shits…

Life goes on, so I’d best get on with it. Come back for more tomorrow!

Comin’ round the mountain

Shit, I forgot what I was going to blog about today…

Oh yeah, yesterday’s Hash. All in all, it was a good one. Two of our best Hares, Leech My Nuggets and Anal Receptive, laid the trail. There were two versions, hard and easy, both right around 6K. The hard trail went up, over, and down both Easter Mountain and the Black Rock ridgeline. The easy trail went around both of those obstacles. The trails came back together for a climb at the end, but me being me, I did my own bypass of that one, too. It was hot motherfucker yesterday, and there wasn’t a lot of shade along the way, so I was pretty whupped by the time I finished. The On-Home was at a Hasher named Sully’s place in Calapandayan, nicely situated on the bay. Here are some photos from the journey:

The Hashers gathered at the VFW.
The cutie-pie contingent.
Then we loaded up in these two Jeepneys for the ride out to the starting point of the Hash: Bridge #4 in Naugsol.
Hare Leech My Nuggets was there to greet us.
Last-minute guidance before we hit the trail.
And we are On-On!
A nice aspect of the Easy trail was traversing through territory I had not seen before. At least, not that I remember.
Heading down to the riverside.
Through some tall grass.
And then into the riverbed. I was pleasantly surprised to find it devoid of water.
Exiting the riverbed required climbing up onto this rickety bridge.
Between the walls.
That mountain I didn’t climb. Maybe next year.
The Hard and Easy trails rejoined briefly.
The down after the only up I did.
The Black Rock ridge, I didn’t do either.
Another rickety bridge that held me.
Just passin’ through.
Almost On-Home.
Sully’s place.
The view from Sully’s place.
Anal Receptive setting up the ice.
Hash Gash hanging out.
Old fuckers chillin’ out.
Joining the Hares on the ice because we liked their trail.
It’s nice on ice!
And the sun goes down on another Hash Monday.
Yellow: Hard. Green: Easy. Purple: Shortcutters.

Took a trike back to Barretto and joined the after-Hash gathering at It Doesn’t Matter.

Life is good.

And that’s the tale of the Easter Monday Hash Run #1700.

And by golly, the Philippines leads the world in this catergory:

The journey continues through the July 2018 LTG archives. In this post, I share some of the devastation I experienced during my first rainy season here. And I also reveal that I’ve decided to give Marissa another chance. One mistake leads to another, I suppose.

Why, yes. Yes, I am!

Today’s YouTube video shares the success story of living a simple life in the province on a social security income of $1,400 per month. It can be done, but that’s not the life for me. I spend that much in a week.

You can laugh if you want to:

Oh shit, she’s already seen the movie! Now what?
I’m pretty sure it was the one where he learned to say “aloha.”
And now it is time to say goodbye.

I reckon I’m gonna chuck some arrows today. We’ll see how the lack of practice pays off.

The Rite Spot for Easter

I’m not a religious man, but I do maintain my rituals. And not all of them involve beer. Even on Easter Sunday, we hit the road for a Sweets Stroll. But instead of calling Swan the Candy Girl, I declared that the Easter Bunny was in the ‘hood! Here’s some of what we saw on our walk:

A dead pig…
…miraculously transformed to lechon. I’m not sure whether they wait three days before roasting.
Speaking of dying, Luisa had a nice 83-year ride before heading for heaven.
And Placido stuck around for 79 years. I hope his twin brother, Placebo, is doing well.

The last three funeral banners I’ve encountered have all been older than me, which is very rare to see. Maybe there is hope that my turn, turn, turn can be similarly delayed.

I pushed myself to climb those damn steps I’ve been avoiding, so there’s that. This is the view looking down at Swan from about halfway up.
Some of the Easter joy we delivered.

And then we changed things up by inviting Swan’s extended family to join us for Easter dinner at The Rite Spot On the Roof.

A hazy view from the roof. It’s burning season again.
Swan’s niece, Gigi, was rockin’ it.
I cooked up a big batch of chili in the crockpot. It was surprisingly popular with our guests.
Then there was dinuguan. I had the misfortune of seeing the bag of pig’s blood as this dish was being prepared. “a Filipino savory stew usually of pork offal (typically lungs, kidneys, intestines, ears, heart and snout) and/or meat simmered in a rich, spicy dark gravy of pig blood, garlic, chili (most often siling haba), and vinegar.
There was also chicken adobo. I didn’t have any yesterday, but I’ve tried it before. Not bad.
Another Filipino dish I choose not to eat is chicken feet. I’ve seen where they walk. No thanks!
Ah, roasted chicken. Now, that’s my style!
I also contributed some corn bread muffins and brownies for the feast.

We kicked things off with the traditional Easter egg hunt for the kids. We didn’t have any chocolate eggs, so we substituted candy bags left over from the morning walk.

The participants.
The search is on.
Look what I found!
Me too!
Everyone’s a winner!
The introvert?
Buddy taking in the view.
Must be dinner time.
Chowing down.
Going down.

After dinner, the Filipino adults in attendance played a weird game. Kinda like hopscotch, but with dice and drinking.

Swan put a lot of time and effort into setting this up.
Depending on where you land, someone will be drinking a shot of something.
I guess the first person to complete the circuit wins. But everyone seemed to be having a drunken good time.

That kind of fun is not my style, but I had an ice chest full of San Miguel Light to keep me company.

And a nice sky to enjoy.

The party was still going strong when I ran out of gas, so I said my goodnights and headed to the comfort of my bed.

My last shot of the night.

It was nice to see Swan enjoying some family time, and they all seemed to have fun at The Rite Spot.

Facebook memories reminded me of an incident that happened eleven years ago. I was still a smoker back then, but as a long-time resident of Korea, I tried to use my limited ability to speak the language as a sign of politeness and respect. So, I could do things like order a beer and get a pack of cigarettes in Korean. Or so I thought until that night at the local 7-Eleven store:

I went to the neighborhood 7-11 to buy some smokes. As is my custom, I told the clerk, “Dongbae Marlboro silver chuseyo.” He pointed at the black pack, and I said, “Anio, silver.” He pointed at the gold pack, and I repeated “silver”. I finally had to gesture to where the ones I wanted were. He pulled them from the rack, pointed at the word silver, and proceeded to instruct me in how to pronounce the word “silver”. Apparently, it’s “sil-buh”. Who knew? Still, it was a unique experience having a Korean try to teach me how to properly say an English word.

Good times! I quit smoking tobacco shortly thereafter.

From the July 2018 LTG archives, my first relationship in the Philippines came to an abrupt end. I was all full of wisdom and accepted that it was for the best, as we were obviously so wrong for each other. Spoiler alert: the wisdom didn’t last. Oh, and that Muslim gal I was considering never happened. How can I date someone who doesn’t enjoy grilled pork?

In today’s YouTube video, the Filipina Pea is back home in the Philippines, sharing her pasalubong with her family. The surprise encounter with her mother after not seeing her for a year was pretty hilarious. The Pea is always a fun watch.

You knew these were coming:

A coffee break chat.
Drown those sorrows in beer!
Um, Doc, that should be far-fetched. Grammar matters!

And now it is time to prepare for the Easter Monday Hash. I won’t be doing the mountain climb this year, but the “easy” trail is long (around Easter Mountain instead of over it), and it’s hot outside. That’s plenty challenging for me. Come back and read all about it here tomorrow.

The dance

It shouldn’t matter if you’re telling them, but please don’t write it wrong.

Welcome to Easter Sunday. As an answer to your prayers, I’m going to keep today’s post about yesterday as short and sweet as possible. It is a day for miracles, after all.

As is our custom for Saturday morning, we kicked things off with our Decay Dance through the streets of San Isidro.

Doing our part to promote tooth decay.
And lo and behold, we walked part of tomorrow’s “easy” Hash trail in reverse.

We started our evening of fun at Myleen’s, where, you guessed it, we dined on birria tacos. Then we moseyed up the highway to Red Bar.

One of the local expats, formerly a regular at It Doesn’t Matter, has switched his allegiance to Red Bar. As you can see, he’s a big spender, treating ALL the gals to at least two lady drinks.
We departed Red Bar at sundown and made our way to Jumpin’ Jacks for a nightcap.
Welcome to Jumpin’ Jacks!

I played some pool, winning one game and losing the other. My pool game is every bit as good as my darts, it seems. As usual, we enjoyed the ambiance and music during our visit. I was very surprised when Swan requested a second glass of wine before we departed. That’s almost unprecedented and a good indicator of how pleasant our Jumpin’ Jacks visit was last night.

We still made it home before 8:30 (hey, I’m elderly, you know), where I enjoyed a bowl of sugar-free pudding before laying my weary head down on the pillow and entering dreamland.

A couple of Facebook memories from this day in history:

Thirteen years ago, I got married in Las Vegas. It didn’t end well.
Eleven years ago, I was hanging out at Shenanigans in Itaewon with two of my favorite writers, Kevin Kim and Young Chun. Young had just published his book, “The Accidental Citizen-Soldier,” and signed my copy.

From the July 2018 LTG archives, I share my perspectives on happiness after two months in the Philippines. There are always ups and downs wherever you wake up in life. How you deal with them is on you. I’m still learning life’s lessons.

Today’s YouTube video has some scenes from one of my favorite shows as a kid, “Lost in Space.” I was too young to note the slide towards comedy, or I didn’t care, but I remember being sad when the series ended. A curse and a joy of old age is all the acquired memories.

Just some jokes before I go:

You know, the misspelling of penis kinda ruins the joke.
Eso sí que es gracioso!
The joke’s on you!

Okay, a promise is a promise. I’ll stop now. Count your blessings!

Not a bad day…

…in fact, you could call it a Good Friday!

Trying to make the best of these golden years while recognizing the limitations that come with old age has sometimes been a struggle. I think I’m doing better at finding my sweet spot. Ironically, that means giving up the sweets I’d come to know and love. The Ozempic is helping to impose the self-discipline I’d otherwise lack by eliminating my cravings for the most part. Hopefully, you’ll be seeing less of me in the future.

The group hikers gathered as usual for our bi-weekly excursion. It was a Good Friday for a hike (sorry, I’ll let that lameness go now). Another hot day (aren’t they all?), but we overcame and had a mostly pleasant 6K stroll through Calapacuan.

Me and these three. Turns out, we didn’t need the ambulance.
And away we go!
Some sweets for the sweet.
And respect for a long life that was hopefully well lived. I’m not sure why the age has been blotted out on the banner; perhaps the math was as wrong as the grammar. But she was almost 95, which is one of the oldest I’ve seen on the funeral banners.
We saw several groups of back beaters during our walk.
No idea what’s up with that mask.
Forward march!
These guys nailed it. Well, dragged it down the road anyway. I have no cross to bear.
Yes, it is currently occupied. An old woman called out “hello” as I passed by.
I like cows much better than carabaos.
A different angle on that mountain I won’t be climbing on the Easter Monday Hash.
Our journey from beginning to end.

I was on the fence about participating in the Friday dart tournament at Alley Hideout. Turns out, Jesus saved me because the bar closed for the holiday. That allowed me to leave my darts at home and enjoy a guilt-free evening on the town. I elected to visit Cheap Charlies first, and Swan consented to join me.

We shared an order of Foodies chicken quesadillas as we took in the unexpected show taking place on the highway downstairs.
We weren’t expecting this. It seems like quite a juxtaposition to see a religious parade in the bar district.
I trust Jesus was able to avoid the Hot Zone.
It was a LONG procession.
With still no end in sight.
I’m guessing carrying the cross sucks…
…but not as much as being nailed to a cross.
The last of over twenty floats goes by.

Nothing like a little free entertainment while you sip your beer.

And the best toilet view in Barretto.

We did our nightcap at Wet Spot. Or should I say Wet Spot/Green Room, since both crews are working out of WS while the renovation at GR continues. I usually limit myself to buying lady drinks for only two girls, but since I have four regulars here now, I have to double the pleasure.

And being full of the holiday spirit (or something), I had a family-sized order of pancit delivered from Sit-n-Bull for the gals to enjoy.

After fifty bucks’ worth of fun, we called it a night and headed on home.

It’s the end of June 2018 in the LTG archives. I’ve got a new best friend, a winning date with Marissa, and another broken heart. Sounds like the story of my life.

At least this story had a happy ending.

Today’s YouTube video is something a little different—the story of a Japanese man who lived alone on a deserted island for 32 years. It was by choice, and he loved it. A voice in my head kept saying, “Is this for real?” but I’ve found nothing to the contrary.

I’ve got the jokes if you’ve got the time:

I have zero sympathy. Her looks and your stupidity are a perfect match.
Sounds like a pain in the ass.
FAFO strikes again.

Hallelujah, another post has come to an end. Praise the Lord!