Several readers have recently called me an alcoholic in the comments here at LTG. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but in this case, I don’t agree. The issue may be that the definition of what constitutes alcoholism is not so well defined. I’m guessing a non-drinker judging me by my lifestyle would see things differently than I do. I’m a lightweight compared to many of the folks I observe in the bar scene. I’ve seen some expats drinking hard liquors from early morning, going home in the afternoon to sleep it off, and coming back out to drink again well into the night. To me, that’s how I define an alcoholic: someone whose drinking is out of control. Admittedly, I drink almost every day of the week. I have a narrow three-hour window for imbibing, and for the most part, I don’t get drunk. Beer drinking is primarily a social activity for me, and I don’t crave beer during the hours when I’m not drinking it. Beer drinking is the culture I grew up in, and as I wrote here a few years ago, it is in my genes. Anyway, call me what you will, it won’t change a thing. Beer is one part of my life, but I’m in charge and in control. At my age, I have no interest in denying myself the things that I enjoy.
Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s get on with the Saturday report (WARNING: THIS POST INCLUDES MENTION OF THE CONSUMPTION OF ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES).
As usual, the was a Decay Dance to kick off the day.
The evening hours saw a gathering of the neighbors for dinner on SBMA.
We were going to visit a rooftop bar near Texas Joe’s, but it turned out to be closed. So we loaded up and headed back to Barretto for our nightcap.
We all had a good time, and time went by fast. Hold onto your hats:
Sometimes you’ve got to push the envelope and let the good times roll.
From the February 2014 LTG archives, I was reminded of what winter looked like in my South Carolina home. Ice was more likely than snow. Of course, it never even gets chilly here in the Philippines.
Also in the LTG archives was this link to an article proclaiming that the comma was dying from irrelevancy. Damn it, eleven years later, I’m still trying to learn how to use the damn thing properly.
The storms have passed, and I’m once again walking under sunny skies. Today’s YouTube is a short video documenting some of the damage in less fortunate provinces. It’s not always paradise.
To the humor we must go:
Anyway, time to get on with my best life ever. I won’t be attending to the Hideaway feeding today (don’t worry, I sent money for food). Instead, I’m going to do some beach time with Swan and the neighbors at Treasure Island. Live it while you’ve got it!
Anyway, call me what you will, it won’t change a thing.
Spot the error, Mr. Old and Stubborn!
What if you did a tour of all the Western, but non-American, restaurants in your area? Like that Swedish place, and one or two of those British places? And then… what if you did a tour of the Filipino restos in your area? With Swan along so she could provide you with recommendations as to what to eat and what to avoid?
Kevin, I had a colonoscopy; now I have a semicolon. I should have used it in the sentence you referenced.
Regarding the restaurants, there aren’t many that feature foods from the nation of the proprietor. In fact, almost all the eateries have menus that include a wide variety of Western, Asian, and Filipino selections. I tried to think of an exclusively Filipino restaurant, and other than street food, there aren’t any.