Sorry, but I had my pork pulled. Here’s how that worked out for me:
It being Sunday and all, we did our usual Candy Walk. Here’s a five-minute video of a portion of our route:
Commenter Kevin offered some great suggestions on how to improve the quality of my videos. So, this is a before version, and hopefully, things will get better going forward.
A couple of other photos from the Candy Walk:
Next up on my Sunday agenda was feeding the girls at Hideaway.
With my feeding duty accomplished, it was time for a change of scenery. Off to the beach! Here’s a five-minute video detailing that journey:
Swan arrived a few minutes after me and we enjoyed our time together rockin’ on the water.
Having gotten what we came for on the floater, it was time to head to John’s place for dinner.
We made The Green Room our nightcap destination. Some controversy arose when the waitress didn’t want to let me use an SOB coupon in the manner I intended.
So, I bought the requisite lady drink and asked for a red wine and a Zero beer for my two customer drinks. The waitress claimed I was not permitted to give Swan the wine–I had to consume both drinks. I asked her where it said that on the coupon, and she argued that only one customer could use it. I pointed out that the coupon does not state any such limitation, and I could do whatever I wanted with my two drinks. She called the manager over; he looked at the coupon, shrugged, and said my interpretation was fine. No big deal, of course, but I still don’t understand the waitress’s logic.
Home again at the appointed hour, but with no new “Squid Game” episodes to watch, I ate my sugar-free pudding in front of the laptop, then did that thing where I lay on the bed and close my eyes for a few hours.
And now, for a confession. I cheated. And it was Swan’s fault. During the lunch hour, Swan went into town and took her young nieces to eat at McDonald’s. When she returned, she handed me one of these:
Well, damn, if I’m going to eat an apple pie, by golly, I’m going to enjoy it with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top!
Groundhog Day is also the day my baby brother was born.
I make an effort to avoid duplicating post titles, which is sometimes tricky after over twenty years of blogging. When I did a title search for this post, I came across an entry from April 30, 2020, entitled “Groundhog Day.” This was during the early days of the COVID lockdown madness, and the post brings back memories of those hellish times. The other shocking thing is that Scott and I managed a 12K walk like it was nothing. Damn, where does the time go?
Facebook took me back seven years to my mountain-climbing days in Korea:
In today’s YouTube video, Filipina Pea talks about the ways in which you are liable to die here in the Philippines. Naturally, she starts off with cobra bites, which are most prominent in Northern Luzon, which also happens to be where I live. Fuck the year of the snake! Anyway, my huffing, puffing, and coughing out to scare them off before I get close. And I’m usually at the back of the pack anyway. Most of the other things she mentions don’t sound as dangerous as crossing the National Highway. When my time comes, I hope to go peacefully in my sleep like my grandfather did–unlike the screaming passengers in his car.
Ready for a smile?
Alright, I’m sure you’ve had enough of this by now. It’s Hash Monday, but I have elected not to do the trail laid by the Hare, Vienna Sausage. I don’t usually like his trails anyway, and this one starts a few clicks out of town, so fuck that. I’ve got my own trail plotted, and Swan and a couple of other folks are slated to join me. I’m looking forward to it. I’ll let you know how it goes tomorrow.
Maybe I’m overdue listening to this song, so here goes:
Sorry, but I had my pork pulled.
Oh, that was painful. The move from “ground hog” to pulled pork was too much of a stretch. But my new pet psychological theory is that, as men get older, they take a perverse pleasure in deliberately being unfunny, thus introducing a new layer of metahumor: laughter provoked by awkwardness. The humor falls flat, and the rest of us are forced to give a pained smile, laugh politely, and cringe as we wait for the next burst of humorless humor. The only question is why men become like this. I see it happening in myself, too. Does the urge spring from some desire to be useful and/or relevant? If so, why does it manifest as something so off-putting (or at least cringeworthy)? More research is needed. Of course, a lot depends on whether the old jokester himself realizes he’s being unfunny. Some obviously don’t (Dunning-Kruger effect), but some old men know exactly what they’re doing, which is why I used the phrase “perverse pleasure.”
Ah—I see there’s a lot of information on the topic.
Well over 200 kids were serviced yesterday. (Damn, that sounds a bit perverted, doesn’t it?)
Yeah, but you knew what you were doing when you wrote that. And when you “serviced” those poor, now-traumatized kids.
Don’t blame me, I only feed them once a week!
Don’t blame you… for how (cough) skinny they all are?
Having gotten what we came for on the floater, it was time to head to John’s place for dinner.
Is John’s place being run according to John’s template, or is there new management that’s just as committed to high-quality food as John used to be?
Since pigs can’t fly, they are grounded. Or pulled.
Still trying to get juice from that joke. Argh.
The waitress claimed I was not permitted to give Swan the wine–I had to consume both drinks. I asked her where it said that on the coupon, and she argued that only one customer could use it.
This is like a person who gives you a gift, then tries to control what you do with it even after it’s been given. If I receive a gift, it’s mine to do with as I please—give it to someone else, throw it in the trash, burn it, whatever.
No big deal, of course, but I still don’t understand the waitress’s logic.
I’m guessing she wanted Swan to buy her own drink.
Well, damn, if I’m going to eat an apple pie, by golly, I’m going to enjoy it with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top!
So where’s the pic of a McDonald’s apple pie with ice cream on top? I’ve never seen that done with a Mickey D’s pie before. Awkward shape. I am, however, glad that the pies are still fried in the Philippines, as they are in Korea. In PC America, they’re baked, and have been for many years because baking such a carby treat is somehow “healthier.” For fuck’s sake, it’s a goddamn apple pie.
Happy 68th birthday, Gregory! (Damn, by the expression on my face, the woman taking this photo must have been a hottie!)
How is it that you never label who’s who in your family photos? You think we can just guess which one is you?
That’s even higher than the Kalaklan Ridge! And colder, too!
So who was the photographer?
In today’s YouTube video, Filipina Pea talks about the ways in which you are liable to die here in the Philippines.
What she said about earthquakes was interesting. So… nothing about drinking yourself to death?
As for typhoons… you’d think a country with so much volcano and typhoon activity would have developed architecture that was typhoon- and earthquake-proof. Of course, the same applies to Japan and California…
I noticed that the Pea’s videos often end with bad jokes. A woman after your own heart!
Hope you enjoyed your improvised Hash.
Kev, I guess the science of lousy humor is settled. Who knew? I’m not sure my “jokes” have gotten worse with age, but it is what it is. Some folks are born with gifts: artists, writers, actors, etc. My talent is bad puns and lame jokes. And any reaction to my attempts to be funny, even a cringe, is all the reward I need. So, thank you!
As to the kids, sweetness and trauma go hand-in-hand. Serves them right! 🙂
Yep, nobody goes to Hideaway for the skinny girls, that’s for sure.
John’s place is being run by the widow and the children, and I haven’t noticed any drop in food quality. This is not surprising because the wife had been trained by John and was pretty much running the kitchen long before John’s passing.
I’m not looking for juice from the pulled pork joke, but a little sauce would be tasty. 🙂
Putting ice cream on a McD’s pie was a first-time experience for me; sorry, I didn’t document it with a photo. It was a tasty treat, indeed! I didn’t know that they stopped frying the pies in the USA. When I was looking for the picture I posted, I noticed that some of the pies were in green boxes (they are red here), so I guess green means baked.
Sorry for the undesignated photo with my siblings. I did mention that Greg is my baby brother, and I was the one with the goofy expression, but I should have been clearer.
The pictures from the mountain climb in Korea were taken by a co-worker I used to hike with.
Drinking myself to death? Getting plenty of fluids is part of a healthy lifestyle! What next, breathing yourself to death? But yes, the Philippines is a land fraught with peril. Typhoons, earthquakes, volcanos, bad drivers; it’s no wonder most of the funeral banners I see are people who died younger than me. As for construction methods, a bamboo shack is cheap to build and cheap to replace if it blows down in a storm.
Ah, the Pea is a cutie. Love her personality and humor. And those legs!
Sorry for the undesignated photo with my siblings. I did mention that Greg is my baby brother, and I was the one with the goofy expression, but I should have been clearer.
I think I figured out who Greg was since you said “baby brother,” but there are two younger brothers in that photo. And what you’d written was: “Damn, by the expression on my face, the woman taking this photo must have been a hottie!” No mention of “goofy.” At least two of the brothers have a possible “she’s a hottie” expression on their faces, so yes: I’d prefer captions where everyone is properly named and labeled.
But the reason why I marvel is that you normally caption all of your other pictures of people pretty thoroughly. It’s just your old family pics—specifically, the ones with you and your brothers—that you neglect to label. I mean, to be fair, I’ve put up unlabeled family pics of my own, but that’s because they were meant to show, generically, what the family looked like when gathered together, and in such cases, the pics were usually of our older selves (i.e., we were each easy to identify), with no attempt at self-identification (e.g., “Here’s a pic of me and my brothers” with no further clarification).
Anyway, no pressure. I’m merely stating a preference for how to caption certain pics, not pushing you to do so.