Let me begin this post with an apology. Some readers have complained in the comments about being redirected to another website while trying to log on here at LTG. I contacted my blog host this morning in an effort to find out what the fuck is up with that. After jumping the usual hurdles, I was eventually connected with a human being. I explained the problem, and he came back with something about my storage disk being near capacity, along with a sales pitch to upgrade for additional space. I asked what that had to do with my readers being redirected, and he told me that, with my nearly full storage, there was insufficient space for SiteLock to search for and remove the problematic malware properly. He told me all my problems would go away if I added space on the disk for “only” $500 for two years. Having no other viable options, I consented.

Thank you for your patience today while we addressed the security concerns regarding your blog, mccrarey.com.

I am writing to confirm that we have successfully upgraded your account to the Pro 200 Plan. As we discussed, this provides the 200 GB of disk space necessary to bypass the storage limits that were hindering our security tools. With this “breathing room” now available, I have officially escalated Case #03872324 to our specialized SiteLock team.

Our security experts are now performing a deep-level manual scrub of your files and database to identify and remove the malicious scripts causing those gambling redirects.

Hopefully, I didn’t just get scammed.

Alright, then. Here’s what I remember about Tuesday. It’s my shopping day, and one of the morning routines I engage in is baking some breakfast muffins. I share them with my support team (Swan, our helper, the driver, and street urchin “Mama” when we see her). For whatever reason, I spaced out doing the baking until it was too late to complete the task prior to departure. Oh well, shit happens.

So, we were well on our way down the highway (like twenty minutes) when it suddenly dawned on me that I had forgotten to put my credit card in my wallet. Shit, I had no other way to pay for the groceries, so there was no alternative but to turn around and go fetch the card. My driver shrugged it off, but I wasn’t happy about this latest brain fart. I guess that’s just part of life in the 70s. At least I didn’t have a cart full of groceries at the checkout when I remembered I’d forgotten my card.

Other than the chocolate candies we give the kids still being out of stock, the shopping went fine. I was feeling lazy, so I skipped my usual neighborhood walk. Then I spent hours on a picture-filled post about the Sampaloc Cove Hash outing that didn’t generate the interest I expected. That’s okay, it is what it is.

It being Tuesday, next on the agenda was our regular weekly outing to Baloy Beach.

A bit later, we headed ashore for dinner at Treasure Island.

Home by our usual 8 pm and in bed shortly thereafter. My weary brain needs its rest.

From the June 2016 LTG archives is a post where I write about a writer who writes about Thailand. I hadn’t been there yet, but I found some of his stories on a Thailand-based website I followed (sorry, the links to those stories no longer work). Steve Rosse and I briefly became Facebook friends, and I purchased some of his books. Why aren’t we friends any longer? Welp, once Steve discovered I didn’t adhere to the leftist dogma, he blocked me. Stephen King is another good writer, but just as indoctrinated.

Today’s YouTube video is about a Brit who wound up homeless in the Philippines. I can’t believe people come to a third-world country and fuck it up for themselves, but it happens more often than it should.

Humor me:

And on that note, the final post of the year is nearly complete. I’ll be celebrating New Year’s Eve at Tim’s hotel (he’s Scott’s brother and visiting from the USA). I’ve got a crockpot full of chili to share. Also, some brownies in the oven, and if I don’t forget to bake them, a batch of cornbread muffins. I don’t expect I’ll be awake to see the new year arrive (the party starts at 4 pm), but you never know. I’ll let you know how it goes tomorrow.

Anyway, here’s a short recounting of my Saturday, um, as the crow flies dies.

We didn’t have any chocolates to dispense because ALL the stores (we visited several) are sold out. So, no candy bags but a few odds and ends to hand out. Not enough for the regular Decay Dance, so we just did an abbreviated walkabout.

It Doesn’t Matter Bar was having its end-of-year party at McCoy’s on Baloy Beach. We dropped by, but things were already well underway; there was nowhere to sit, and no more Zero or Light beers. That’s what happens when you arrive late. I dropped off the sweets (muffins and lollipops) I’d brought, then headed up the beach for Treasure Island.

Neighbors Jeff and Davina were having a family outing at Treasure Island, and several others had joined in the fun, so we did too.

It was well after dark when home beckoned. When I got my tab, it said I had drunk 14 San Miguel Zeros. I’m not sure that was right, but I was in no position to argue about it, so I paid. And just to be clear, I was on my feet and doing fine. We even had to walk a bit before finding a trike. Back at the house, I put some yogurt on a brownie for dessert, played some solitaire on the laptop, and had no trouble once I hit the sack.

I had a weird dream (aren’t they all?) just before waking up, that I actually remember. The details are fuzzy, but basically, it involved a transgender man being ridiculed by a group of individuals in a public setting. I defended the tranny by shouting out that he has the right to live as he chooses (notably, I did not do that pronoun thing). When I thought about the dream, it was not inconsistent with my usual modus operandi. The tranny wasn’t invading any female spaces (which I vehemently oppose) or engaging in any other untoward behavior. So, live and let live is fine by me, unless and until you cross the line and let your insanity impact others around you. Anyway, it was a weird thing to dream about.

Facebook memories took me back to this day in 2017. I was visiting the Philippines, and a Manila gal I’d been chatting with for a while met me at the airport when I landed.

It’s still May 2016 in the LTG archives, and in this post, I write about closing more doors as I worked to escape the trauma of my broken marriage. It only hurts until the pain goes away.

For today’s YouTube video, I share some of this vlogger’s perspectives on what a bad day really looks like. I noted that he took some heat in the comments for parts of his commentary and video structure (like that gal on the balcony who didn’t encounter any disasters other than being clickbait). Still, I was there for the action shots of destruction and wasn’t disappointed.

You gotta laugh, or at least try and smile:

Whatever it means, I’m outta here for now. Rumor has it that the Arizona floating bar is back in operation, so I’ll be checking that out. According to their Facebook page, John’s place will be open today, so we’ll be dining there. And then we shall see what happens.

At least until next year.

So, the last Friday of 2025 started with the group hike.

Since it was only Scott and me, and Scott had his car, we took a drive to the seldom-visited countryside out Mangan-Vacca way and commenced our hike. Scott reminded me that our last time out here was in April, that we’d gotten lost, and he had nearly collapsed from exhaustion and dehydration. He’s not sure if that incident triggered his stroke a week later, but the memories are intertwined.

After that pleasant start to the day, when beer o’clock rolled around, Swan was hungry, so we headed for Jewel Cafe. Upon arrival, there was a sign on the door saying that, due to unforeseen circumstances, they would be closed until Saturday. I suggested Myleen’s as an alternative, but as we walked past It Doesn’t Matter, we decided we could eat and drink there. Talk about killing two birds with one stone! The food was good, and the beer was cold, so that was a win.

I suggested Cheap Charlies for our nightcap, but we could see from the street that it was crowded upstairs, so we kept walking to Wet Spot. Met an interesting expat who lives in San Antonio, and we had an enjoyable chat. It seems he’s become disillusioned with the Philippines after many years here and is planning his escape, with Vietnam being his first choice. He hadn’t heard about Dave Fisher’s passing, so I had to share that sad news with him. Anyway, it was a nice night out on the town.

Still plowing through the May 2016 LTG archives, and came upon the sad post about my dear friend Bridget Werner’s passing. She was one of the most unique personalities I’ve encountered over the course of my life, and I still miss her wit and wisdom. What the balls, Bridget! You left us way too soon.

I don’t usually read posts from people I don’t know on Facebook, but for some reason I read this long-ass thing today, and it resonated. It ends with these words:

Don’t wait for someone to make room for you where you don’t belong. The map is wide. The road is long. And the best seat in the house is wherever you decide to stop.

I’ll paste the rest at the end of this post. You can read it or not there at your leisure.

I also came across this article, which says that any amount of marijuana use is bad for teenagers. Well, I smoked pot regularly from age fifteen until my twenties. That may explain a lot, like my inability to use proper grammar. Heh, that reminds me of the time in high school when I went to my English class after smoking a joint at lunchtime. We had to write an essay in the classroom that day, so I wrote about having to write an essay while stoned. To her credit, the teacher recognized me for my honesty, and I got a passing grade. Ah, life is full of memories up until the time you forget them.

Today’s YouTube video reveals the disgusting things going on inside your body while you sleep. I found it interesting; you may too. I feel kind of bad for all the interruptions I cause when I get up to pee every hour or so.

On to what I claim is humor:

And now it is onward to whatever adventure the rest of Saturday holds in store for me.

Here’s that Facebook post I mentioned above:

I was erased from my daughter’s life with a phone call that lasted less than thirty seconds.

I stood in my driveway, November wind cutting through my jacket, fingers stiff around a cooler packed with homemade smoked venison jerky. Two days before Thanksgiving. Behind me sat The Beast—my restored 1978 emerald-green pickup, polished for months until the chrome reflected the sky. I’d planned to drive seven hundred miles to Chicago.

Barnaby, my twelve-year-old Blue Tick Coonhound, was already buckled into the passenger seat, his red holiday bandana tied just right. His tail thumped happily. He knew the cooler meant one thing.

We were going to see The Girl.

Then my phone buzzed.

“Dad,” Emily said. Her voice wasn’t warm. It was tight, rushed, layered with the clatter of keyboards behind her. “Plans changed. Mark’s CEO is coming for dinner. It’s… important. A big networking thing.”

My hand froze on the icy door handle.

“That’s okay,” I said gently. “I packed my navy suit—the one from your graduation.”

“No, Dad—listen,” she interrupted quickly, as if speeding through it would dull the impact. “It’s crowded. And the new house has white wool carpets. Very… intentional. With Barnaby, and your stories—you know how loud they get—it might be better if you stayed at a hotel this time. And maybe boarded Barnaby? There’s a kennel off the interstate.”

The silence between us roared louder than the wind.

She wasn’t just asking me to stay elsewhere. She was editing her life for an audience—and I didn’t fit the aesthetic. The grease permanently etched into my hands. The old truck that smelled like pine and fuel. The hound who snored like a freight train.

We were clutter.

“Don’t worry about it, Em,” I said, keeping my voice steady while something caved in behind my ribs. “I actually forgot—I’ve got a tractor transmission to fix here. Probably shouldn’t leave town anyway. You all have a wonderful night.”

“Oh.” She sounded relieved. That hurt the most. “Okay. That works. We’ll FaceTime. Love you, Dad.”

The call ended.

Barnaby let out a low, mournful howl and rested his chin on the dashboard. He didn’t know the words—but he understood.

“Well, buddy,” I said, climbing into the cab and slamming the heavy door shut. “Looks like Chicago’s off the list.”

I sat there, engine idling, staring at the GPS on my phone.

Six hours, forty-two minutes. Blue line. Efficient. Sterile.

I reached into the glove box and pulled out something I hadn’t used in years—a battered paper road atlas. Its edges were soft as cloth. I opened it, breathing in the scent of ink and old paper.

“You know what?” I traced a line west with my thumb. Away from snow. Away from white carpets. Away from shrinking myself. “Let’s go see that big hole in the ground Mom always wanted to see.”

I tossed my phone face-down and shifted into gear.

We avoided interstates where everyone drives like they’re being chased. We took back roads—two-lane highways curling through towns with named water towers and people who still wave at strangers.

We ate at roadside diners where the menus were sticky and the waitresses called you “Sugar” without irony. I shared my hash browns with Barnaby. Nobody minded. In Missouri, a tattooed kid admired the truck and asked about carburetors. We talked for an hour. No screens. Just people.

For the first time in years, I didn’t feel outdated.

I felt alive.

Late on the second day, near the edge of New Mexico, the weather turned. Rain and sleet slicked the road. The sky bruised purple and black.

That’s when I saw them—a modern sedan on the shoulder, hazards blinking weakly. Miles from anywhere.

I pulled over.

A young woman stood shivering beside the car. A little girl pressed her tear-streaked face to the window.

“No service,” the woman said, panicked. “The GPS sent us this way. The car just died. We’re trying to get to Phoenix.”

I nodded. “Pop the hood.”

Plastic everywhere. Computers and covers. But an engine is still an engine. I spotted it fast—a snapped belt.

“I can fix it,” I said.

I didn’t have the right part—but I had ingenuity, duct tape, and time.

“Barnaby,” I said. “Light.”

The old dog trotted over and held the flashlight in his mouth, perfectly still, tail thumping softly.

When the engine came back to life, the woman cried. Tried to hand me money.

“Buy her hot chocolate,” I said. “Stick to the main road.”

She took a photo—me, grease-stained, Barnaby proud beside me—against the endless desert.

Thanksgiving night found us parked at the edge of Grand Canyon.

No fancy dinner. Something better.

A small fire. Beans warming. Jerky for Barnaby. Sage-scented air and ancient silence.

My phone buzzed. Emily.

I answered.

Behind her were suits, wine glasses, white carpets. Too bright. Too stiff.

I turned the camera.

The fire.

The truck.

Barnaby sleeping on a blanket.

Then the sky—stars spilling across the heavens like diamonds.

“I’m at the table,” I said quietly.

She stared. Then softened. “It’s beautiful, Dad. I… I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” I said. “But we’re okay. We found our place.”

After the call, I leaned against the truck and watched the fire die down.

I realized I’d spent years waiting for permission to belong—trying to fit into a life that no longer fit me.

But you spend the first half of your life building a home for others.

The second half is learning that you are the home.

I didn’t need a chair in a room where I was afraid to spill something. I had the open road. I had the stars. I had the keys.

Don’t wait for someone to make room for you where you don’t belong.

The map is wide.

The road is long.

And the best seat in the house is wherever you decide to stop.

My neighbor Mike celebrated his 78th birthday yesterday and invited us to join in the celebration he hosted. I understand some Hispanic guy named Jesus also had a birthday on the 25th, although he’s quite a bit older.

Mike’s an interesting guy. We grew up in the same town in Southern California, Westminster. We attended the same high school, but, since he was eight years older, we never met. Mike is also a Vietnam War veteran, and yesterday he shared a photo album of his two tours of duty on the battlefield. During that time, he earned two Purple Hearts and was awarded the Bronze Star for his bravery. After returning home and recovering from his wounds, Mike became a well-known music promoter and worked with numerous famous bands and musicians. He had some amazing photos from those days as well.

After he retired, he lived in Brazil for several years before settling here in the Philippines. And now he lives less than a block from my house. It is indeed a small world after all.

The party started at 2 pm, and folks started heading out around 4:30. But the fun wasn’t done, as some of us reconvened for a nightcap at Thumbstar Bar around 6 pm.

It was a good Mikesmas.

From the May 2016 LTG archives is a post about my attending the wedding of my friends Mat and Sohee.

Tellingly, the post included this:

I do admit that I’ve become somewhat cynical at weddings these days.  During the vows, I recalled similar words from my most recent soon-to-be ex-wife.  I muttered “promises, promises” under my breath…

Sadly, Mat and Sohee divorced a couple of years later. Subsequently, Sohee committed suicide.

Speaking of the not-yet-ex wife, she sent me a Christmas message saying she still thinks of me and is sorry for letting me go. Yeah, thanks for that. Ten years too late.

I also heard from my daughter and she sent me this:

Today’s YouTube video is another one of those warnings about retiring in the Philippines if you are not financially prepared to do so. Sadly, common sense isn’t too common these days.

And before I go:

Had enough? Me too!

We went all the way out to San Antonio for our Wednesday hike this morning and didn’t get back to Barretto until just now. And man, am I tired! Too tired to blog today, so consider that your Christmas gift. I’ll try to get you caught up on things from here tomorrow.

Just a song before I go:

Another day in the life is in the books, so why not on the blog? Don’t worry, there wasn’t much to it.

We did our weekly Decay Dance, passing out candy to the children of San Isidro. I only took one photo this time, but it captured the three things that make the Philippines so special:

Later in the day, as I made my way to the Hideaway feeding, I saw something that made me think of Kevin Kim’s love of abandoned gloves.

The feeding went as usual, with the gals’ hunger finally satiated.

Then it was time to meet up with Swan at John’s place for dinner. Swan was already there when I arrived. The cook came out to tell Swan that the birria meat was not available from the supplier, but she had held back enough for one more order in anticipation of Swan’s visit. She also revealed that John’s was going to be closing at the end of the year. We asked John’s daughter whether they would be open next Sunday, but she wasn’t sure. So, it may have been our final meal at John’s place last night.

I’m going to miss the dining experience at John’s place.

After our meal, we did the usual stops at Red Bar and Jumpin’ Jacks. Spread some Christmas joy (cash) to our waitress friends, which put smiles on their faces. Played a couple of games of pool and got my ass kicked, but it was nice to be participating rather than just observing. I’m planning to do more of that in the New Year.

From the April 2016 LTG archives is this remembrance of a bargirl in Itaewon who rejected me twice–ten years apart. The post title is “The more things change, the more they remain the same.” I had to smile at that because it took a long time for things to change, even after I moved to the Philippines. Although Filipinas are more receptive to old men than Korean gals seem to be. I recall feeling invisible once I turned 60.

Speaking of change, in today’s YouTube video, Reekay says money rules will be changing in 2026. I’m no expert, but my own transactions are limited and relatively simple. My pension goes into my USA bank account, and I withdraw cash from ATMs when I need it. I use wire services (Wise works well for me) to transfer funds to other accounts, like Swan and my landlord. Hopefully, I won’t have to adopt and adapt to new methods.

Humor time:

Today is the annual Hash Candy Walk. We’ll be traversing the streets of Barretto, handing out sweets to the kids we encounter. I’m technically one of the Hares, but there was no trail to mark. Pubic Head mapped out our route, and we’ll do a “follow the Santa” routine. I’ll let you know how that works out tomorrow.

Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but I also found this Nancy Pelosi meme:

Speaking of feeding, we did our annual charity outreach event yesterday in the village of Mampueng, Barangay Old Cabalan, out in the wilds of Olongapo. Two hundred hungry families were provided with a bag of rice and other staples, as well as a meal of spaghetti and chicken. This is the third year I’ve helped sponsor this event, and it always feels good to spread some joy to those in need.

With the handouts taken care of, it was time for a hike. We hired a couple of locals as tour guides and headed out. None of us were feeling up to a 2-hour hike to the Mampueng Falls (one of the guides looked at me and said, “he’s too old”), but we still enjoyed a nice 3K walkabout.

Most of the group opted to stay at the river and set up camp; the remaining four of us marched on.

Made it back to our campsite, where the gals had grilled some sausages and other items were ready for lunchtime dining.

Back home, safe and sound, where I napped and blogged, then prepared myself for a Saturday evening in Barretto. Annex Bar to kick things off, then some dinner at Sit-n-Bull, and a nightcap at Gold Bar brought the day to an end. It was a good one.

In the April 2016 LTG archives is this post where I weigh in on my religious beliefs. I had stirred up some controversy at work when I wrote on the blog about Mohammad being a pedophile. What else do you call someone who marries a nine-year-old? It occurred to me that getting attacked for my opinion was tantamount to criticizing my religion. The same alleged offense for which I was being harassed. This post was intended to forthrightly declare that my religion requires me to be critical of other religions. I’m glad I didn’t have to sue anyone for religious discrimination.

For today’s YouTube video, let’s check in with a vlogger who thought buying into a beach bar would be a good idea. After losing 3.6 million pesos ($60,000), he realized it wasn’t a smart plan after all. I watched this because I’ve fantasized about opening a nice beach bar here in Barretto, but I know the dream would likely turn into a nightmare. Who needs the headache?

I don’t know, maybe someone will find these humorous:

Okay, time to get on with my Sunday routines.

Another busy day that has me running late, so let’s get to it. Not much to say about my yesterday, but it included a Naugsol valley circumnavigation and a Christmas party at my old dart bar hangout, Alley Cats.

Swan and I headed out to Alley Cats and arrived at 4:30. The place was packed, and we were lucky to grab two seats at the bar. Lots of warm greetings and many familiar faces from my dart-playing days made me feel right at home.

Sitting there soaking up the dart vibes made me miss my old hobby. The other night I dreamed about playing darts again. Perhaps the seed has been planted, because I’m thinking about buying a new set of arrows and getting back into the groove with some practice and an occasional tourney. I’m not going back to the five days a week mode, but once in a while, it might feel good again.

There was a tasty buffet dinner (I contributed some brownies) and a gift exchange. We brought presents for all the Alley Cats crewmembers and enjoyed the spirit of the season.

It was after eight, and the party was still in full swing when we departed for home. We had an early morning charity event to attend to today. I’ll share that adventure tomorrow.

Moving on to April 2016 in the LTG archives, I posted about my darting life in Itaewon, including this shellacking of an opponent named Ricky:

It was also the anniversary of my marriage to Jee Yeun. I sent her this message:

“Today is the anniversary of the promise you made and did not keep.”

She didn’t respond.

Over at the BigHominid blog, I’m the poster boy for bad habits. A then (8 years ago) versus now photo is the evidence. I came across another photo from my first year in the Philippines which shows just how much I’ve gained from living here:

A little late for me, but in today’s YouTube video, the Filipina Pea provides tips that will make your vacation in the Philippines a happy one.

On to the humor:

A motorcycle officer stopped a man who had run a red light.

The guy was a real jerk, yelling, “Why am I being harassed by the Gestapo?!”

The officer calmly explained the violation, but the man exploded into a tirade, insulting the officer’s ancestry and orientation in every way imaginable.

The officer stayed calm. When he finished writing the ticket, he scribbled “AH” in the corner and handed it over.

The man snapped, “What does AH mean?!”

The officer looked him straight in the eyes and said, “That’s so when we go to court, I’ll remember you were aggressive and hostile.” Then he walked away.

Because the man already had a terrible driving record and risked losing his license, he hired a hot-shot attorney. In court, the attorney asked: “Officer, is there any unusual marking on this citation?”

“Yes, sir. At the bottom there’s an underlined ‘AH.’”

“And what does ‘AH’ stand for?”

“Aggressive and hostile, sir.”

The attorney smirked. “Are you sure it doesn’t stand for A$$hole?”

The officer grinned. “Well, sir… you know your client better than I do.”

I had my share of run-ins with the law back in my younger driving days. One led to my arrest. I guess “fuck you, pig!” was a little over the top. Lesson learned.

That’s all I’ve got for today.

For I shall always let thee do,
   In generous love, just what I please.
Peace comes, and discord flies away,
   Love’s bright day follows hatred’s night;
For I am ready to admit
   That you are wrong and I am right.

I’m going to need to rush through today’s post as I’m a little behind schedule and have a Christmas party to attend to this afternoon. Two journeys to report on from yesterday: a morning walk with Swan to the Subic marketplace in search of chocolates. The 8K walk was successful, but the quest was unfulfilled. Later in the day, I hoofed it over to Cheap Charlies to quench my thirst and I’m happy to report that I was successful in that endeavor.

Oh, and it is envelope season. Folks who provide services, like trash collectors and subdivision security guards, leave envelopes in hopes you will fill them with holiday cheer.

Swan dictated that I enjoy some “me time,” so I was on my own for the beer o’clock activities, and I set about fulfilling her wishes. It’s been a while since I’ve documented an excursion, so I figured, why not share the joy with my reader(s)?

My Cheap Charlies views:

I had a nice chat with the bartender and apologized again for my boycott of lady drinks at Cheap Charlies. They raised the price to an inexplicable 250 pesos for a SINGLE LD, one of the most expensive in town. I’m not even a cheap Charlie, but I consider that price level a scam, and I won’t pay that amount as a matter of principle. The bartender said she understood, and they appreciated that I bought them food and treats during my visits. So, last night it was chicken wings, chicken fingers, and lumpia from Foodies downstairs, each item priced nearly the same as an f’n lady drink.

I did my nightcap at Green Room for some of the same old, same old, which is still enjoyable for me. And that’s how I spent my Thursday.

At the end of March 2016, in the LTG archives, I was going strong in Itaewon. For all the feedback on my current beer-drinking lifestyle, it is only a shadow of what it used to be.

Today’s YouTube video asks: If you could choose immortality, would you? The first thing I thought of was an old comic book story: “I have eternal life, and it’s killing me.” Suffice to say, it didn’t end well–an eternity of being crushed to death, resurrecting, and being crushed again. Anyway, while I think I’d give an eternity of reliving my current life over and over again a shot, the idea of living into the future without end doesn’t appeal to me. So, my answer to the video’s question is no.

R. Crumb authored that comic I mentioned above. While looking up his Wikipedia entry, I came across this quote:

Killing yourself is a major commitment, it takes a kind of courage. Most people just lead lives of cowardly desperation. It’s kinda half suicide where you just dull yourself with substances.

Robert Crumb

There have been several times over the years when I considered taking “the easy way” out of life. Luckily, I didn’t have the courage to follow through. Call my current lifestyle what you will, but it is better than being dead.

Let’s end this post with a smile or three:

Anyway, we got invited to the Alley Cats bar Christmas party, and we’ll attend for old times’ sake. At least we’ll be off our beaten path for a while.

So, let’s get on with it, shall we?

Speaking of sweet, my visit with Dr. Jo revealed that according to my blood and piss, I’m a hell of a sweet man. If my glucose levels are to be believed anyway. More cholesterol than I need as well. As I understood Dr. Jo to say, “Urine trouble.” My kidneys are doing the heavy lifting, as indicated by the glucose discharge found in my piss. This will eventually damage my kidneys, and I’ll suffer a potential fate of the dialysis nightmare. That’s plenty enough to motivate me to implement some much-needed dietary changes. Goodbye sweets and carbs!

In the good news category, my liver function is normal. Hell, it ought to be. I give it a workout every night. Whatever the cause of my itchy morning rash (which has lessened in intensity lately), it does not appear to be due to my liver failing to fulfill its role in removing toxins.

So, I left with a prescription to eat smarter and continue my exercise regimen. This time I need to follow those orders.

After finishing with Dr. Jo, we hit the beach.

There was a two-week millionaire on board buying drinks for a goodly portion of the working girls. That’s something I enjoy watching more than doing. Hike buddy Steven came out and had a swim, then joined us for a beer. I had a nice chat with an expat I’d never met before who lives in Baloy. Then someone pulled the rope to release the balls (a 1500 peso expense), and the gals all scrambled to grab them (they get 10 pesos per ball). A few balls rolled overboard, and one of the girls jumped in the bay to recover them.

The thought occurred to me to throw a bucket of balls directly into the bay. I rejected the idea as cruel and unusual. One of my fellow floating bar mates didn’t see it that way and tossed the balls overboard.

It turned out to be one of the more enjoyable afternoons I’ve spent on the floating bar. Word on the street is that the Arizona floater will be opening soon. It’s the most wonderful time of the year!

We did our usual after-floater dinner at Treasure Island and had a pleasant visit with owner Bert. Things seem to be picking up tourist-wise in Barretto, and that’s good news for the business owners. After our meal, we hailed a trike and made our way back home. It was a good day and a nice reminder that I’m living in the right place at the right time for me.

From the March 2016 LTG archives is this trip report from a visit I paid to Cebu’s Mactan Island. It was good to check out a new place, and although I didn’t mention it in the post, I was visiting a Filipina I’d met online. It should come as no surprise that that one didn’t work out for me.

Facebook memories reminds me of something else from this day in 2016:

Today’s YouTube video discusses seven signs that indicate how long you might live after 70. Hmm, for the most part, I seem to be doing okay. I’ll guess we’ll find out.

My sense of humor never gets old:

I think that makes me lame. Oh, well. No apologies.

Yesterday, I said goodbye to Gina and hello to BOB.

We dropped Gina off at the bus station in Olongapo on our way to the supermarket. She was a hard worker, and we’ll miss her, but I understand that family always comes first in this culture. I wish her the best.

The highlight of my day was attending the Battle of the Bars, which I call “the BOB” as it seems to be a derivative of the recently deceased SOB. It’s a dance contest featuring girls from five bars, although the format was a little different from what I’m accustomed to.

So, what did I think? Well, the BOB is a quarterly event, so the gals participating seemed much more enthusiastic than I saw at the weekly SOBs. Overall, I’d say the gals were sexier, or at least wore sexier outfits, like t-backs.

There wasn’t an empty seat in the house, and that created some issues. Late arrivers stood around the stage, blocking the view of those of us who had arrived early and secured what we thought would be good seats. Another problem was that the capacity crowd was more than the aircon units could handle, and the room grew uncomfortably warm.

But on with the show. Only the Alaska team bothered with wearing costumes, similar to what they used to wear during their SOB days. The other gals just let their shaking bodies entice the voyeuristic crowd of horny old men. Some of them were better at it than others (or had better equipment), but otherwise, there wasn’t a whole lotta difference in the performances.

Some of the routines went a little long, and it was decided by the powers that be to skip the twerking competition. That was disappointing because I was looking forward to seeing some of that booty jiggle. A couple of the banana-eating performances were disgusting. One of the bar owners dressed like a gal, t-back and all, and joined his team on the stage. Except his dick and balls kept falling out of the bikini bottom. That was something I didn’t want or need to see.

When it was all over, no one came to collect my score sheet, so I was thinking the fix was in. And sure enough, the host bar, Thumbstar, won the event (I had them in third place). The consensus of my group was that the show sucked more than it didn’t. I might consider attending a future performance if it is held at Queen Victoria, a bar with a large stage and plenty of seats with unobstructed views.

The BOB offers a VIP entry ticket for 1,000 pesos that includes all-you-can-drink at all five bars for one night. I purchased one and made sure I drank my money’s worth. I was pretty much at capacity after the show, but visited Queen Victoria for a couple more anyway.

I was tempted to stay for the Queen Vic live music that started in an hour, but good judgment prevailed, and we called it a night and headed home while I was still standing.

From the March 2016 LTG archives, this post was written in response to someone who took offense to my calling the Prophet Mohammad a pedophile. Except they didn’t call me out in the comments; they complained to my employer, the 8th US Army in Korea. Since I was a reemployed annutant, I didn’t have any civil service protections and could have been fired. Fortunately, the Army lawyers took a stand for freedom and said that since what I had written was just my opinion and was written on my own time, no adverse action would be taken. I was told to include a disclaimer in future posts stating that I spoke only for myself on the blog and that my views did not represent those of the US Army. For the record, Mohammad married a nine-year-old, so I stand by my pedophile description.

In today’s YouTube video, the vlogger talks about things in the Philippines that will turn you into a grumpy old man. Well, I already are one, but some of the things he mentions can trigger the scream equivalent to “get off my lawn!” But I try to remember my mantra, “Take a deep breath. Relax. Accept the Filipino way.” It does help.

To the humor we must go:

Alright, time to get on with it then. I picked up my blood work results yesterday and have an appointment with Dr. Jo this afternoon to discuss what they mean. And since I wasted my Tuesday at the BOB, I’ll venture out to the floating bar after my appointment to do some rockin’ on the water.

An unusual start to my day yesterday. Woke up, walked past the laptop, left my phone on the charger, grabbed a cup of coffee, and went up to the roof. I sat there alone for two hours watching darkness turn to light. And thinking. About my life. About the future and whether I wanted one. I felt like I was at a decision point: Let go? Move on? Hold on? Ultimately, I chose to continue down the road I’m traveling, but with a renewed sense of caution and situational awareness. No one knows what the future may bring, but I’m going to do my best to be prepared for any eventuality that may arise. Yeah, wish me luck with that.

So, living this life I’ve chosen includes a Sunday Sweets Stroll. I put aside the negative thoughts and headed out to help spread some joy.

I took care of the Hideaway feeding, but I’m thinking I won’t continue that effort in the coming new year. It’s getting expensive, and frankly, that money could be better spent on other charitable endeavors. We shall see.

Next on my Sunday agenda was dinner John’s place.

As is our custom, we hit Red Bar after dinner, and then moved on to Jumpin’ Jacks for our nightcap. Suffice it to say, the evening concluded much better than the night before.

From the February 2016 LTG archives, I had begun my new walking lifestyle, and in this pictorial post, I share my journey to the top of Namsan and back. It was nice to see those old familiar scenes once again.

In today’s YouTube video, the vlogger recounts ten facts about the Philippines that most people don’t know. Well, after almost eight years, I found nothing surprising on his list. I was reminded why I dislike Manila so much. (The graphics in the video are not AI-generated, so don’t let the cover below put you off.)

And on to the funny business:

Anyway, things are pretty much feeling back to normal now, although I’m keeping my guard up so as not to get blindsided down the road. I’ll be heading out to the Hash soon, and we’ll see how I fare on a Leech My Nuggets trail.

I ask but one thing of you, only one,
That always you will be my dream of you;
That never shall I wake to find untrue
All this I have believed and rested on,
Forever vanished, like a vision gone
Out into the night. Alas, how few
There are who strike in us a chord we knew
Existed, but so seldom heard its tone
We tremble at the half-forgotten sound.
The world is full of rude awakenings
And heaven-born castles shattered to the ground,
Yet still our human longing vainly clings
To a belief in beauty through all wrongs.
O stay your hand, and leave my heart its songs!

–Amy Lowell

On and on it goes, where it ends nobody knows. I woke up still breathing this morning, so I reckon that warrants sharing another installment from this journey through life.

Kicked off the morning with the Decay Dance, the first one after a two-week hiatus.

Before heading out, I’d loaded up the crockpot with a batch of beef stew. It was Swan’s idea.

Our evening journey began at It Doesn’t Matter. A couple of newbies in town asked about the Hash, so I showed them the Hash Facebook page with tomorrow’s trail location (the 13 Resort in Calapandayan). I also gave them some recon on places to eat and recommended they check out Baloy Beach and the floating bar during their visit.

After IDM, I took Swan to dinner at one of the restaurants I’d recommended, Myleen’s. Alas, they were out of birria tacos. I wonder what’s up with that? Oh, and that newbie couple showed up shortly after we arrived. That’s a small town for ya.

And then we moved on to Wet Spot. Things went wrong, and then they got worse. And for now, I’ll leave it at that. It was a good reminder to embrace the lessons of a lifetime. I’m at a point of no return, so situational awareness is a must. All I can do is hang on and hope for the best.

It is now February 2016 in the LTG archives. In this post, I share photos from the surprise gathering with the Shenanigans staff at Gino’s Pizza in Itaewon for Valentine’s Day. I’d forgotten about that good time with some good people. Sadly, sometimes it is only in looking back that you realize how grand the life you had really was.

Nine years ago, I was keeping things in perspective:

For Today’s YouTube video, let’s check in with Reekay for his take on the reasons the expat dream in the Philippines may be dying. Well, I got here well after the end of the glory days he talks about, circa 2012, but nothing much has changed since I arrived in 2018. Regardless, I ain’t going anywhere. I’m too old to start over.

My sense of humor is as impaired as it ever was:

Life is full of surprises; the best you can do is hold on and try to enjoy the ride as much as you can. Fuckin’ roller coasters.

Paraphernalia never hides your broken bones
And I don't know why
You'd want to try
It's plain to see you're on your own

Ooh, I ain't blind, no
Some folks are crazy
Others walk that borderline

Watch what you're doing
Taking downs to get off to sleep
And ups to start you on your way
After a while they'll change your style
I see it happening every day

Ooh, spare your heart
Everything put together
Sooner or later falls apart

There's nothing to it, nothing to it
And you can cry and you can lie
For all the good it'll do you, you can die
But when it's done, the police come
And they lay you down for dead
Just remember what I said

Just another Friday, but I’m glad to have had it. That makes it special enough.

At beer o’clock, we headed into town and kicked off our Friday revelry at Sloppy Joe’s. One wine and three beers later, we moved up the road to Jewel Cafe for dinner.

The innards were still fine, and I ate all of it. That’s what you get for 600 pesos these days.

After dinner, we paid a rare visit to the Alaska Club. Owner Jerry was there, and I purchased a ticket for the “Battle of the Bars” event taking place on Tuesday at Thumbstar. Jerry then joined us at our table, and we had an enjoyable chat reminiscing about the good ol’ days when his bar was in Angeles City, the bad days that led him to relocate to Barretto, and the recent lack of tourists that makes the bar business here a struggle.

We did our nightcap at Cyclone Bar, which now incorporates the staff from the recently closed Cloud 69. The music was blaring so loud that we almost turned around and walked back out. The bartender graciously turned it down a notch, and we stayed. Still too loud, but tolerable. Our waitress friend Sheryl joined us for a couple of lady drinks, and we watched a couple of two-week millionaires in action (buying multiple lady drinks for multiple ladies). Cyclone seems to be doing well; it was by far the busiest bar we saw last night. Happy for them, as a return visit from me is doubtful. Why go to a place and suffer ear damage when I have so many other available options that are much more pleasant?

A trike ride home brought our night out to an end. I enjoyed myself, but that’s just the way I roll.

Here’s some good news:

On the last day of January 2016, here at LTG, I was writing about an Itaewon Friday night. Not to put a positive spin on it, things didn’t go or end well. I guess I’ve always been a mess.

From Facebook memories, I got reminded of my South Carolina home life twelve years ago.

Today’s YouTube video tells us what Filipinos are made of. No wonder no one here speaks Spanish.

Humor time:

I’m not ready to stop yet! Keep ’em coming!