Althouse has an interesting post about embracing the mundane and appreciating the life we have. Apparently, this is a trend with roots in the pandemic that continues to be promoted in TikTok videos and mainstream publications like the NY Times.

 ‘You have to start romanticizing your life,’ the narration begins. ‘You have to start thinking of yourself as the main character. Because if you don’t, life will continue to pass you by. And all the little things that make it so beautiful will continue to go unnoticed. So take a second, and look around, and realize that it’s a blessing for you to be here right now.’…”

Anyway, I appreciate the sentiment, even if it seems pretty obvious. I mean, I’ve had a starring role here at LTG for going on seventeen years now. Still, sometimes it all seems so pointless, and you have to step back and look hard to realize how much joy can be found in the seeming meaninglessness of daily life. Or so I keep telling myself. At least I’m not alone in those thoughts.

Here’s one way to be the star of your life (it’s funny and short, give it a watch):

Here’s what’s happening here in my world (or should I say the center of my universe?):

After darts, I did the dinner at Sit-n-Bull thing.

After my meal, I stopped by Queen Victoria.

Finished my night at Outback, where I think my friend, the bartender, and I have put aside our differences.

The morning hours featured a nice hike with the Friday walking group. We took a Jeepney ride out to Calapadayan and walked back to Barretto via Naugsol. It looked like this:

What do I have to complain about?

There are always going to be good days and not-so-good days in life. My yesterday fell somewhere on the lower end of that spectrum. Not bad or tragic, but not altogether enjoyable either.

It started with my morning walk. I was doing my standard 8K streets of Barretto walk. It was hot, and I began feeling a little light-headed early in the hike. I’ve also been experiencing some lung issues, so I took a couple of squirts from the inhaler I always carry in my pocket. It didn’t seem to help much, but I plodded on. Finally, at about the 6K mark, with the climb back up to Alta Vista still looming, I gave up and caught a trike home.

I’m not sure what is going on with my health these days. My blood pressure has been in the 140s/80s range for a couple of weeks now. I used to be in the mid-130s or lower. My resting heart rate is up from the mid-60s to the low 70s. I have had some shortness of breath problems, not just on the hikes but even in bed at night. I use my nebulizer daily now when it used to be just a once in a while thing. Might be time to schedule a doctor’s visit.

I started my regular Thursday evening bar crawl at Hideaway bar, on the other side of town, but I needed to get some of the steps in that I missed on my aborted morning walk. I had a large pizza (Hawaiin with pineapple, sue me! it’s what the girls like) delivered. Yeah, feeding the hungry is part of my mission in the bars, doncha know? I’m continuing with my gin/soda and using beer to slow down my intake of the hard stuff routine. I probably need to slow down some more. I had three gins before I finished my first beer. And then the owner sent me over a free beer which I, of course, politely accepted. Joy and her pal Jen had the barstools on either side of me, and I was naturally plying them with lady drinks. Oh well, it’s all part of the fun, I suppose.

Finished my freebie beer, then headed out. Next stop, Cheap Charlies. My, how times have changed. There was one big spender who had half a dozen girls drinking with him. Good for them! Two of my regulars were also busy with another customer. I was drinking alone (which does save money) when a bargirl I see infrequently sat down beside me. I engaged in a little small talk, and then I asked her to get me another drink and to get a lady drink for her. She brought me my drink and then disappeared for ten minutes or so. When she returned, she still didn’t have a drink, and I reminded her I had offered one. She told me she had something to do and then walked away again. I looked later and saw her sitting by the cashier, playing on her phone. Well, okay then. Never had a bargirl reject my offer of a drink before, but there’s a first time for everything, I suppose.

I let it bother me a lot more than I should have. I honestly don’t mind drinking alone. But to be ignored entirely (I had to get up and order my second beer) was irksome, especially when I recalled all those recent times when I’d been the only customer and felt sorry enough for the girls to buy them all a drink and some food. It just seemed disrespectful somehow. Of course, I’ve always known that the bargirls aren’t really my friends; their job is to pretend that they are. Some of them are pretty damn good at it, too. Anyway, the masks were off last night. Even my two regulars ignored me after their customer was gone. So, that’s fine. I’m not sure if, or when, I’ll be back to Cheap Charlies. I do know I will not be buying any lady drinks there in the future.

Life moves on, and so did I. I crossed the street for one of my rare visits to Hot Zone. I was the only customer, which was pretty surprising. Several very attractive dancers were on the stage. Jay, the owner and former Hash Grandmaster joined me at my table. He then called all the dancers down who were braless to join us for a lady drink (he paid, not me). Only one girl was left on stage; I guess she has motivation now to lose some of her underwear. I bought my friendly, smiling waitress a drink before I left.

I finished the night at Wet Spot being snuggled by Aine. It was nice to be next to another great pretender. I ordered her some nachos as a reward.

And yes, if that’s as bad as things get around here, I’m certainly living a pretty charmed life.

It’s a new day, and I started mine this way:

And speaking of “B’s,” I made a batch of these to take to Alley Cats when I play darts later this afternoon:

I nebulized before the hike this morning and did not experience any issues on the trail. It was still hot, though. Pictures from that adventure will be posted here tomorrow. See you then!

I never really had a plan for life, I just reacted to it. Whenever I reached a crossroads, I chose a direction and followed the road without a clue as to where it might take me. I guess it is natural to wonder about the paths that would have led to a different life, but you only get to live the life you chose. No mulligans. But I have been extremely fortunate and blessed. The roads I have taken have led to some great adventures and life-altering experiences. A fool’s luck perhaps, but even though I could never have imagined what my life would turn out to be, it has been a very nice ride. So it is time to look forward again. And it will be an adventure with an uncertain outcome for sure.

I originally wrote that on New Year’s Day 2005 as I contemplated my future life in Korea. I quoted it again in a post I wrote on my last day in Korea. And here I am on the eve of my fourth year in the Philippines. Things haven’t exactly gone the way I imagined they might, but things are good enough for a fat old fuck like me.

Speaking of fat, I’m kicking off a plan to try and lose some of this belly. It’s so out of control that one of the female Hashers blurted out last night, “I can’t believe how big your stomach is!” Ouch. I checked the scale this morning, and it registered 216.1. Yikes. My goal has always been to stay under 200 pounds, but 215 is my redline. Looks like it’s time for some lifestyle changes. At this point, I’m not planning to do anything really extreme. Obviously, I need to cut WAY back on my beer intake. And at the grocery store today, I showed the self-discipline to avoid buying my usual weekly gallon of ice cream (1/2 vanilla, 1/2 rocky road). The problem is when I drink all that beer and come home. I seem to lack the ability to refrain from eating ice cream like there is no tomorrow. I always have an excuse–eating a bunch tonight is no more calories than eating a little over several days–but obviously, that’s just wishful thinking. So, less beer, fewer sweets, more exercise, and maybe skip a meal most days. That’s the plan anyway.

The big news around here is that the Philippines has elected a new President: Ferdinand Bong Bong Marcos. If that name sounds vaguely familiar, it’s because Bong Bong’s dad was the infamous former president/dictator. Ferdinand Sr. even puts Hillary to shame, holding the Guinness World Record for the largest-ever theft from a government. He won in an apparent landslide, so I suppose the age-old question of which old saying: “you can’t judge the son by the sins of the father” or “the fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree” is correct.

Alright, let’s get to yesterday’s Hash. I wound up doing a long and solitary trail. It was my choice to do it that way. I hate riding in the Hashmobile, so I opted to walk the 3.3K to the trailhead from my house. The Hares, Leech My Nuggets, and Fuck A Duck had a long and a short option. I took the shorter 5K version. When I reached the start, I decided not to wait for the other Hashers to arrive and set out on my own. I won’t usually hike in the hills when I’m unfamiliar with the terrain, but Leech always makes a well-marked trail, and I knew if I got into some kind of trouble, the other Hashers were only thirty minutes or so behind me.

I’m adding additional photos from the Hash page as usual. Mine are especially boring this week since I was the only Hasher in sight.

The liquor ban was still in effect, so we all stayed longer than usual at the On-Home (we usually pack up and head out to a local bar for some post-Hash drinking. It was odd to be stumbling home in the dark, but I made it without incident.

And that was my Monday.

It turns out the locals don’t call me the cookie man after all. I had two different “customers” thank me for the biscuits yesterday. Who knew?

In the first case, I got a message from a Facebook “friend” named Jenny that I’ve never met or talked to (yeah, I’ve got lots of those for some reason) saying she had seen me hiking in San Isidro. Jenny also mentioned seeing me giving biscuits at the house across the street from her. Her daughter wanted to know why the Kano (foreigner) didn’t give her any. I explained that the kids across the street from her were my regulars and that it was also my last bag of cookies.

Anyway, we wound up chatting, and she seemed pretty nice. She told me she did house cleaning and laundry and wanted to know if I needed any help. I explained that I have a full-time helper already. Then I said half kiddingly that I could always use a massage (yeah, I had been scrolling her FB photos, and she looked pretty good). Somewhat to my surprise, she agreed to come and do a massage. So, I arranged to meet her near her place and show her the back way into Alta Vista.

At the appointed time, I headed down the hill and was most of the way to her place before we met on the road. Oh my, Jenny was much heavier than her photos had led me to believe! Well, not that it mattered. After all, this was just gonna be a massage. Okay, maybe my little head was disappointed, but that’s often the case of late. So, after a brief exchange of greetings, we headed back up the hill to my place.

The total distance from where we met to my house is just under one kilometer. Granted, a lot of it is uphill (it’s a 30-meter climb). But between there and here, Jenny had to stop and rest at least a half dozen times. I was shaking my head in disbelief that anyone could be that out of shape. In fact, I asked her if she was a smoker or had lung issues. Nope, just not used to walking, she said.

Anyway, we finally made it to my humble abode. Jenny had some water and rested up a bit, and then it was time to get to work. She gave a decent massage, but nothing special. And nothing even approaching “inappropriate” touching, let alone a happy ending. And that was fine by me. When it came time for me to pay, I handed her 1000 pesos. She was surprised and said, “that’s too much!”. I was surprised because I’d never heard a Filipina utter such words. She was right, of course. The same massage in a parlor would have cost me less than 400 pesos. Still, it was Mother’s Day, so I just told her to keep the change. I also gave her a bag of biscuits to take home to her daughter. I then walked her back down the hill to make sure she’d make it home okay.

Since I’d forgone my morning walk for the unsatisfying massage, I decided to take the long way home. I regretted it almost immediately because it was frickin’ hot in the midday sun. By the time I reached the National highway, I’d had enough. I was also hungry. And there across the street sat the local Jollibee franchise.

And yes, like the wimp that I am, I took a trike home. Hey, I didn’t want my food to get cold. Yeah, that’s my excuse!

So, today is election day in the Philippines. Foreigners are not supposed to involve themselves in national or local politics, so I won’t. I’ve heard a couple of people complaining that they hadn’t received their 1000 pesos for voting. Yeah, that’s right. Candidates here can pay people to vote. Upon reflection, I guess that’s more honest than just stealing the votes like they do back in the USA.

That liquor ban doesn’t directly apply to foreigners, but establishments that want to sell booze to tourists and expats have to apply for an exemption. I guess it is a bureaucratic hassle because most bars just said “fuck it” and closed. I walked from one end of Barretto to the other and didn’t see anyone openly selling my beverage of choice. Remembering my lockdown days experience, I visited a certain hotel bar that had been my speakeasy. A brief chat with the manager, and I was good to go. My San Mig Zero was served discreetly in a coffee mug. Tasted good just the same.

Several beers later, I heard from a friend who advised a certain beach bar on Baloy was serving foreign customers. I was ready for a change of scenery, so I hoofed it on down the highway. As I walked on Baloy road, I noticed one of the resorts had a bar full of people drinking beers from bottles, so I guess they must have gotten the exemption permit. The beach bar hadn’t, but no one seemed to care. We were drinking openly there too.

It was while I was imbibing at the beach bar that the second biscuit coincidence took place. When I had been walking out on the Govic highway, I encountered a youngster I had seen before in Barretto. She walks the streets selling lumpia to bar patrons and the like. I had bought from her recently to feed the bargirls at It Doesn’t Matter. She usually has her two young sisters with her as well. I’m not sure how old she is, but I’d guess twelve or so. Friendly and sweet, and when she smiles, she reveals a mouthful of broken and rotting teeth. It’s actually kind of sad, but I do respect that she’s out there earning what she can rather than begging. Anyway, when I saw her and the sisters while hiking, I naturally gave them a bag of biscuits. And then yesterday, there she was at the beach bar with her basket of lumpia and sisters in tow. She gave me that big smile and said, “remember me? You gave me biscuits”. I told her, of course, I remembered and asked her if she had walked all the way to Baloy from her home in San Isidro. “Yes, sir.” Wow. That’s quite a hike, probably 4K one way. I bought her and her siblings a coke, and they went on about their business. What a life!

After a bit, I decided to walk on up the beach and see what else might be happening on election eve.

Turns out Da’Kudos was also openly selling alcoholic beverages. Naturally, I wanted to reward their good intentions, so I stopped in for a couple more before calling it a night and heading home.

It’s Hash Monday, so I won’t have to go looking for an open bar tonight. We are doing the On-Home at the Hare’s house right here in Alta Vista. Look for a full report on those events tomorrow.

Now, I don’t want to give the impression that my life revolves around beer. But these memes speak to me somehow:

Anyway, it’s all good. Glad to still be in the game.

I went on a date last night. A first date. With a gal I met on a dating site called Date in Asia. First time I went out with someone I met on that particular platform. She’s a local woman (lives in Barretto) named Jane. Thirty-five years old, one teenage son. Says she used to work in housekeeping at the Thumbstar hotel before the scamdemic; now, she helps out at her sister’s foodery in Subic. She drinks San Miguel Light beer. That’s about all I know so far.

Jane lives on Rizal street, so I took her to the Arizona resort relatively close by.

Jane had a Filipino dish, the name of which I don’t recall. I had some baby back ribs.

After dinner, I invited Jane to come with me to John’s place for some more beer. She’d never been there and seemed to like the third-floor open-air ambiance.

How did the date go? It went okay. I didn’t feel a strong attraction, but she seems like a nice woman. She expressed an interest in joining a hike with me, so perhaps that will be our second date. We shall see.

I was going to title this post “First date”, but it turns out I’ve used that title previously on a post about my first date after moving to the Philippines. That was with Marissa. Kind of made me sad after re-reading it.

Well, here it is Mother’s Day, and I’m also thinking about my mom. This makes eleven years of missing her on the day devoted to mothers.

That’s all I’ve got today.