Double your pleasure, double your fun…

I never really had a plan for life, I just reacted to it. Whenever I reached a crossroad, 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 …

I posted the above to Facebook five years ago on the eve of my retirement and departure from Korea. I didn’t add a citation then, and I can’t remember whether it is something I wrote or read somewhere else. Either way, it’s as true now as it ever was.

So, let’s celebrate the milestone on this road of life called yesterday.

After grocery shopping, I paid the driver and sent him and my helper home with the groceries. I walked to the Harbor Pointe Mall to take care of some business.

I took a cab back home, but this one wasn’t metered. Before departing, I asked the driver how much to Barretto. When he said “500 pesos,” I told him to stop the cab; I’m getting out. I’m not a cheap Charlie, but I don’t like being scammed for any amount. The metered cab was a little over 200, and the last time I took an unmetered taxi ride home, it was 350. Well, the driver said, sorry, I meant 350. Whatever. I took the ride for that amount.

The mountain mama I support once again pleaded to give me a massage, and I relented. She does do a good job, but this time I declined the happy ending (and reduced her compensation accordingly). I honestly don’t know what has gotten into me lately, but I just have zero interest in transactional sex. I keep waiting for someone who wants to be with me with no expectation of compensation. Geez, I’d pay someone for that kind of loving. Yeah, that last line is me being funny (or trying to), but maybe I should consider hiring someone to be my companion. At least part-time. And yes, that’s inconsistent with my stated desire not to pay for it, but assuming I hired someone talented at pretending, it might work. We’ll see; I haven’t decided yet.

So, that brings us to last night. I went out a little early because I wanted to get a haircut. When I arrived at my regular shop, no barber was available (it’s more of a beauty salon-type place). My former barber was let go a couple of months ago, and the owner gave me my last couple of cuts, but she wasn’t around yesterday. I think it is time to take my business elsewhere.

So, now it is a little after four, and It Doesn’t Matter is right across the street, so that’s where I started my evening out. Again, not many customers, and still a sad vibe in the air. Bob’s remains are being buried at the American Veteran’s Cemetary in Angeles tomorrow. My regular waitress, Agnes, wasn’t around either, so I was drinking alone. And that led me to the idea of a theme for the night–two and out. I’d have two beers, then move on to the next venue. So, when my second bottle of Zero was empty, I paid my tab, said goodnight, and moved on.

I’d been craving a Philly cheesesteak sandwich for a few days, and John’s place has the best in town, so I made that my next stop. I got to chatting with my waitress, Veronica, and was really wowed. Pretty and can hold up her end of a conversation is an all too rare combination, at least in the places I tend to hang out. Alas, she revealed she is in a committed relationship, thereby crushing my newly formed fantasies.

I ordered some of John’s Korean-style chicken wings to go and my second beer for while I waited. When the wings arrived, and the beer was gone, I headed across the highway to Hideaway Bar. Since it was only Tuesday, they were surprised to see me. I acted like I had just been confused and told them to put the wings in the fridge for tomorrow. Of course, they weren’t having any of that nonsense.

Two beers for me and two drinks for Joy, and it was time to move the Twosday party to the next venue. As I departed Hideaway, I had no idea where that would be. So many options and so little time. I knew I wanted to finish at Queen Victoria to welcome Angie back after her week off from work, but there were thirty bars to choose from between there and where I was standing. I finally settled on Hot Zone.

I was the only customer when I first arrived, which in a girly bar can be a little uncomfortable. Owner Jay has a disciplined crew, though, and no one besieged me for drinks. Over the course of my two beers, a few other guys came in, further relieving the pressure. I was a little short on cash and didn’t want to splurge on lady drinks in a bar where I don’t really know any of the girls.

Two beers and out, then down the road to Queen Vic. I was disappointed to see that Angie wasn’t around (I was advised she was eating), but in almost no time, two acquaintances sat down on either side of me and started right in with flirty bargirl talk. When I ordered my second (and final) beer, I got each of my companions a drink too. A couple of minutes later, Angie came in, so we made room at the bar for her to join us. When my beer was gone, I was done (five bars, ten beers, if you’re keeping score).

I paid, left a sixty peso tip, and stepped outside to hail a trike. When I got home, I made a batch of sugar-free pudding, adding a banana and some raisins, then settled in to spend some time worshipping Satan. Keeping with my Twosday theme, I watched two episodes of Lucifer, then escaped to the peace that comes with sleep.

I have been fortunate and blessed…but the roads I have taken have led to some great adventures and life-altering experiences. A fool’s luck perhaps, but even so, 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…it will be an adventure with an uncertain outcome for sure…”

Was it me who wrote this?

As mentioned in the opening of this post, Facebook reminded me of what I was up to on my last day in Korea five years ago, including sharing the words above (whether I wrote them or not).

And I spent the dark hours that night visiting my haunts in Anjeong-ri and handing out chocolates to all my favorites.

I had a good run, just wish I had appreciated it more at the time. Oh well, that’s behind me, and what matters now is what lies ahead, starting with that lab work tomorrow morning.

Before any heads explode, I misspelled “phony” in the title on purpose. You’ll understand why later in this post.

My excursion last night was of the bar crawl variety. Yeah, I know; how is that different than every other night of the week? Well, I hit more bars than usual and ventured into a few places I rarely visit.

First stop–Sloppy Joe’s. It is fair to say this is currently my favorite bar in town. It’s a combination of factors–the option to sit outside and watch the world pass by, a friendly group of people I know, no lady drink pressure, good music, and the videos to go with it, just like the glory days of MTV.

Second stop–It Doesn’t Matter. Bob’s gone, Cliff sold his share, and the buzz and vibe of the place is in transition. I wouldn’t bet against a comeback, but the last couple of times I’ve visited, it’s not been busy, especially compared with the “good ol’ days.” Bob’s widow, Luna, was there, so that’s a good sign that she has an interest in reviving the bar. I shared drinks with my old favorite, Agnes, and she mentioned some things were in the works to make IDM better than ever. It should be interesting to see how it all plays out. I’ll still be popping in periodically.

Third stop–Mugshots Bar. It’s been a LONG time since I visited here. The staff I knew there from previous visits are long gone, so I was pretty much a stranger when I walked in. Still, the bartender and the manager were friendly, and service was prompt. I decided to take my evening meal here.

Fourth stop–Voodoo Bar. Actually, I didn’t plan to visit Voodoo–I was on my way to Wet Spot. Then, as I passed by, my old favorite Tia called out to me from the outdoor smoking area, so I stopped to say hello. And being the soft touch that I am, I decided to go inside and buy her a drink.

Not long into my visit at Voodoo, a couple of acquaintances came in, and after exchanging greetings, they sat at the table next to mine. Then promptly called all the remaining dancers down from the stage (six at least) for lady drinks. Now, these weren’t two-week millionaires; they were local expats (in fact, one is a Hasher). Good on them and good for the girls if they have the cash to spare and went to spend it that way. Probably more fun than handing it over to beggars like I’m prone to do. It was good to see Tia again, but it was time to move on.

Fifth Stop–Wet Spot. I ran into Daddy Dave at Sit-n-Bull when I bought that big assed burrito yesterday morning, and I told him I’d try to stop by Wet Spot during my barhop that night. I arrived shortly before he did, but then we had an enjoyable chat about his bar ownership days in Thailand. I knew he had been involved with a Voodoo clone there, but I was surprised to learn he had been an investor in seven Bangkok bars. This was all twenty years ago before he helped bring Angeles back to life and then later established himself as the Godfather of the Barretto bars. Dr. Fisher (yes, doctor as in physician) is quite the hobbyist! No Aine sighting, and I ignored the rude young one.

Sixth (and final) stop–Alaska Club. I was on a roll, so I rolled on down the highway to Alaska. Virginia wasn’t working, not that I cared; she was not worth the time and effort of trying to make the standard bargirl-customer connection. There were some guys from Alta Vista at the next table who recognized me, and they invited me over to join them. One of them is working on establishing a homeowner’s association to address some long-standing issues with the developer. As a renter, I doubt anyone would care about what I might say. Anyway, good luck with the effort.

It was getting to be past my bedtime, so I caught a trike for home. Made me a smoothie, then settled in for an episode of Lucifer before hitting the sack.

I woke up this morning and was doing my routine chores, and during the dog walk, I noticed that my phone was fucked up–the screen had broken, although it still functioned enough to read messages, albeit with difficulty. No idea when or what happened, but also not a big surprise ever since my big fall when I initially broke it; I knew it was just a matter of time because the phone was bent, which puts a lot of stress on the screen.

Anyway, as I was heading out for my Sunday stroll, I changed my mind and returned home, dropped off my backpack, grabbed a credit card, then went to the highway to catch a Jeepney to the mall in Olongapo. And I came home with this:

I picked up a couple of other items at the mall, then caught a taxi back home. The last time I took a cab, the driver wanted 350 pesos to Barretto, which I considered fair. Today, I was surprised to see the taxi was metered. I was very curious to see what my fare would be but expected it to be higher than before. It turns out I was wrong–from the mall in Olongapo to my front door was 216 pesos. I wowed the driver when I handed him my usual 350 pesos–“thank you so much for the tip, sir!” My pleasure.

Today is feeding day at Hideaway, and who knows what I’ll do after that. I’ll be getting up early in the morning for the trip out to San Antonio. Me, Scott, and Ed are the Hares for our Outstation Hash tomorrow, and we have a trail to mark.

Welp, Kalaklan has ridges, too.

Our Friday hiking group caught a Jeepney out to the Ocean View Resort in barangay Kalaklan, then we crossed the highway and headed for the hills. I’ve said before there is no easy way up to the top of the ridgeline, but the route we took had a slower incline–takes longer to get up but not as ass-kicking as other trails, like the so-called Motherfucker. Some of my fellow hikers disagreed with my “easier” assessment, saying they’d rather get the climb done as soon as possible. Still, it had been quite some time since we’d gone this way, and it was a nice change of pace. It was a beautiful day, and that made the views from on high even more spectacular. I’ve got the pictures to prove it:

It was a good day on the Kalaklan Ridge.

I did the SOB last night at Whiskey Girl, but the pictures from that event haven’t been posted yet, so I have nothing to share in that regard. The Whiskey Girl team did take the top spot again for the fourth week in a row. You can see their hard work and dedication in their performance. I’ll post pictures tomorrow, hopefully.

And if you are curious, Jen and I made our peace, and I bought her company via lady drinks during my attendance at the SOB. As I have admitted and explained to her, I was at fault for taking the “game” seriously and expecting her to care about my feelings. That ain’t her job, and shame on me for forgetting that fact.

Facebook memories reminded me of the time six years ago when I dropped a bomb at a friend’s wedding reception:

I did my standard solo Saturday street walk this morning

And now Saturday night is right around the corner. What adventures will I encounter tonight? Can’t say for sure, but I’d wager beer will be involved. See you here tomorrow!

Time it was
And what a time it was
It was . . .
A time of innocence
A time of confidences

Long ago . . . it must be . . .
I have a photograph
Preserve your memories
They're all that's left you

Like the ebb and flow of the sea, the days come and go bringing opportunities for joy and sorrow. How you choose to fill the hours is entirely up to you. Here’s what I did yesterday:

The Wednesday Walkers had tentatively planned to be dropped off in Tibag and then walk the dirt paths through the hills all the way to Waltermart in Subic town. Alas, there was some miscommunication with the intended driver, who never showed up. So, we improvised a walk on the backroads and wound up at Waltermart anyway. Not as pleasant as the Tibag route, but that will be there for another day.

A jeepney ride back to Barretto, some lunch, and then time to prepare for the rest of the day.

So, there was an all-day brown-out in Barretto, and businesses without generators were forced to close, including Hideaway. So, I was freed from my Wednesday feeding chore. Don’t worry; I’ll be making up for it by bringing vittles for the Hideaway girls tonight. I decided it would be a good day to visit the Kokomos floating bar on Baloy. I even baked a batch of brownies to share with the crew.

(from the lyrics of one of my favorite George Strait songs)

I drank alone on the floater last night and given my recent experiences with bargirls, that was probably for the best. The gals on board did seem to enjoy the brownies, though. When it was time for me to go, I walked the beach in the dark.

I did my nightcap at Snackbar on the way home. Been quite some time since my last visit, and most of the familiar faces were gone. Not many customers either. I got home early enough for a couple more episodes of Lucifer before hitting the hay.

So, a pretty good day all and all. Certainly better than the day that preceded it. Oh, and here’s an update on my knee: It was bothering me early in the hike yesterday, but I trudged on, and by the end of our trek, it felt almost normal again. Maybe I really did walk it off.

No problems at all on my 7K walk this morning, either. I hope the knee problem is behind me for good.

Speaking of my morning walk, look what I found, Kevin Kim:

Alright, time to go bake some brownies for the feeding tonight at Hideaway. And we’ll see how the night goes after that. Thanks for dropping by!

Yep, one of those kinds of days. Here’s how it went down.

Welcome to the Philippines! I started off with my regular Tuesday morning shopping excursion to the Royal supermarket. I also added in a successful visit to the immigration office to extend my visa for an additional sixty days. Next stop was at Baypointe Hospital for an ultrasound to determine the cause of my wounded knee. My heart was buried in disappointment when I learned the machine needed to perform the scan was out of service.

The mountain gal I support asked for additional money this week and offered a massage. This is becoming a weekly occurrence, and I’m very disappointed that my generosity appears insufficient and unappreciated. I responded that the extent of my charity was 10,000 pesos a month. She could continue receiving it in 2500 weekly stipends or a monthly lump sum if preferred. These constant “emergencies” are outside of my budget and are her responsibility. She was gracious in her acceptance and reassured me how much my help means to her. So, I guess things are fine now–I just don’t want to feel like I’m being taken advantage of.

Mary came by later in the afternoon to deliver some cookies I had ordered. She’s traveling to Manila this week and asked me to help fund her trip. I declined to do so but advanced her 1000 pesos from next week’s support fund. She only seems interested in what I can do for her and offers me nothing in return. Granted, I don’t ask for anything either–I don’t want my support for her studies to be on a quid pro quo basis, but it does seem telling that she shows me almost zero affection. That’s fine; it’s just good to know.

When Beer o’clock arrived, Mary joined me briefly at Sloppy Joe’s, then departed to meet one of her girlfriends on Baloy. She invited me to come along, and I declined. I stayed for a few more beers with my buddies Chris, Troy, and Jim, then started thinking about where I might dine. A conversation amongst us ensued where everyone talked about their favorite eateries, and from this, I decided it was time for a return visit to Hops and Brews.

After I finished my meal, I decided to visit Wet Spot to put my “buy one, get one” coupon to work. I noticed Aine was on the dance stage, so I called her down to join me for a drink and some small talk. A few minutes later, the young cutie I had barfined on a “snuggle only” basis several months ago walked by, and she sat down on the other side of me, so naturally, I bought her a drink. I tried to engage them in the usual banter and small talk, but neither seemed interested. Then I put my camera in selfie mode to capture my moment with these two lovely ladies.

I wasn’t exactly pissed, and disappointed doesn’t capture the emotion either. Whatever it was, I knew I was done with both of their ungrateful asses. I had my second beer delivered, finished it without talking, and departed without leaving either of them my usual tip. I don’t know; being respectful to the customer and making sure they enjoy their visit seems to be an important part of the job when you are working for lady drink commissions. I certainly wasn’t going to pay to be subjected to their bad attitudes.

I walked up the highway and popped into Whiskey Girl to do some more of the “buy one, take one” thing. I noticed that my regular waitress and snuggle bunny Jenn was back to work. I’m not sure what was going on, but while she did come and greet me, she didn’t sit down and join me like she used to do. It wasn’t like she was busy; I saw her sitting off by herself across the room. So, I sat there alone, stewing in my juices. Again, it wasn’t exactly anger I felt, something more like disgust. And the person I was most disgusted with was me. Manager Mark, and old dart league buddy, sat with me for a while, and we had a nice chat about the bar biz. Hell, it’s hard enough being a happy customer; I’d hate to have to deal with the bullshit he puts up with daily. I finished my two drinks and departed, but I couldn’t resist letting Jenn know how disappointed I was in her behavior as I left. I’m sure I’ll be back at Whiskey Girl again (the SOB is there on Friday), but I doubt I’ll be spending time (and money) with Jenn in the future.

I crossed the highway (and lived to write about it) for my nightcap at Queen Victoria. Angie wasn’t working (I found out later she called in sick), so I settled onto my barstool to get the last drops of beer from my buy one, take one coupon. It wasn’t long before I was joined by a young woman I hadn’t seen before. She got right into her bargirl routine, giving me a shoulder massage. I didn’t tell her to leave me alone, but I didn’t encourage her to stay either. Before long, the head waitress appeared and asked me if I wanted to buy the gal beside me a drink. I’ve known this person for quite some time (I met her years ago on the Arizona floating bar), and I kind of lit into her, saying if I wanted to buy a drink, I would have asked the girl directly. I didn’t need her coming over to twist my arm. I said you should know better than to treat me like a tourist; I don’t appreciate it. She apologized and slinked off. Yeah, I overreacted, but I guess it was just a culmination of lousy bargirl experiences all night long getting the best of me.

After the head waitress departed, I told the girl rubbing on me that I usually tip for the massage, but if she preferred a lady drink, that was fine. She ordered a San Mig Apple, the dreaded double lady drink. I told her, no, I don’t buy double drinks. She could have a single. Naturally, she accepted the only alternative available, and that was that. I finished my beer, paid my tab, and took a trike home.

I had myself a big bowl of rocky road ice cream and turned on the TV. Yeah, that’s the way us grumpy old men roll, I suppose. Maybe tonight will be better.

And just so this post isn’t totally devoid of merit and value, let me share a couple of links some of my readers may find of interest.

This one talks about the renewed public standing together of the Philippines and the USA in the face of China’s aggressive action in the South China Sea. The recently completed exercise was clearly intended to send a message to the Chinese that the Philippines will be defended.

And here’s one that talks about how Korean women were allegedly used and abused by the American military in the early days of the alliance. That was before my time there, but the gals I personally saw in the biz were there by choice. Maybe history will be rewritten, and the willing prostitutes will become the equivalent of forced comfort women. Or perhaps I’m reading too much into it.

That’s all for today. See you tomorrow, hopefully with more positive perspectives.

I guess it’s just a matter of pride with me because I’m sure no one would notice the difference, but I don’t want duplicate titles on posts here at LTG. So, part of my daily blogging ritual is searching to see if my proposed title has been used previously. And after all these years (4,580 posts), that is increasingly difficult. After ten minutes of trying different ideas today, I finally gave up and settled on “Whatchamacallit.” It turns out there is a proper spelling for that word which I had to look up—just another day in the life of a blogger.

My yesterday started with the Friday group hike, and we had another good turnout. Scott and I had talked about keeping it flat, but we had a few robust attendees who preferred something more challenging. We wound up picking a route that allowed the hill climbers to deviate from the pack and meet up again further down the trail. That actually worked out pretty well.

A good day on trail.

My nighttime persona began the heavy lifting of San Miguel Zero bottles at Sloppy Joe’s. Good friends, good music, cold beer–does it get any better than that? Well, Mary messaged that she wanted to join me. Apparently, my Friday nights belong to her now. Oh, well, the more, the merrier, I suppose.

I opted not to attend the SOB last night. The Thumbstar bar does this thing called the SOP, which is really nothing more than a pissing contest with the SOB group. That being said, Thumbstar does offer a “buy one, take one” on drinks and food, and the food is decent. So, when the hunger bell rang, we survived a highway crossing and settled in for some half-price fun. Mary and I had chicken burgers, and I bought the waitresses some chicken wings. Good times.

Mary had never been to Whiskey Girl, so we made that our next and last stop for the night. It was kind of funny because my waitress confided to me that she almost asked for ID before serving Mary an alcoholic beverage. Yeah, she’s young but looks even younger. During our visit, the Whiskey Girl dance team returned from the SOB competition and excitedly announced that they had won once again–that makes three weeks in a row.

Mary spent the night at my place but kept her pants on. Yeah, she literally slept in her jeans. I took that as a pretty clear sign she wasn’t interested in any hanky-panky with me. And that’s fine; these days, I want the passion to be reciprocated, not paid for. I’m helping out with some school expenses, but that’s with no strings attached. If she doesn’t want to fool around with Grandpa, I don’t have a problem with it.

Before bed, we watched two more episodes of Lucifer together. Interestingly, Mary had been watching the series on Netflix as well, and coincidentally we were both up to Season One, Episode Eleven, at the same time, so that worked out well.

I didn’t feel like cooking this morning, so after the dog walk, I took Mary to Sit-n-Bull for breakfast.

After eating, Mary caught a Jeepney for home, and I took some steps to start my standard Saturday street walk. Except, my knee issue flared up again, and this time it was worse than ever. Still no pain, but it was numb, and I was limping. I also felt like I was going to keel over from a collapsed knee at any moment. So, I cut my walk short and headed home. But, before I could make it all the way up the hill, I had to stop and sit down for a while. I was still limping a bit when I continued, but I felt like I had better balance. I got home and took a nap, and the knee felt normal again.

This afternoon I will be paying a visit to Harley’s on Baloy to participate in raising a glass in memory of Alan, the Brit who passed away earlier this week. I also hope to check on his gal Christine, who doesn’t appear (based on FB postings) to be doing so well. After seventeen years together, I’m sure Alan’s passing left a big hole in her soul. I hope she finds a healthy way to fill that void.

I wonder what is going to happen next. I don’t have a feeling of impending doom or anything quite that dramatic, but I also can’t stymie the awareness that someone is going to be next, and I fit that dynamic. All I can think to do about that is to keep on living until I’m not around to care anymore. So, let’s get on with it!

Well, technically, it was a needle that stung me with an injection of B complex vitamins in my left butt cheek.

So, I consulted Dr. Jo and her physician husband for their advice on the intermittent numbness issue I’ve been experiencing in my left knee/leg. After some poking, prodding, and manipulation it does not appear that I have muscle or joint damage. They concluded that it is likely a nerve issue which will require an ultrasound test to confirm. They also suggested I add some B vitamins to my daily meds ingestion ritual and gave me the shot to get me started. I teasingly told Dr. Jo, “I didn’t have any pain when I came here today and now you have fixed that. Good job!”

That’s actually the good news in all this, I haven’t had to deal with pain. The numbness/tingly feeling is a bit disconcerting, but I can walk through that. The concern that prompted the doctor’s visit was having the knee collapse and causing a fall. The ramifications of that happening up on the mountain is scary as hell. It is somewhat comforting that this issue seems to be fleeting–I felt it briefly in the supermarket yesterday but had no issues on a rather challenging hike this morning. So, we’ll see. Looking at it from a positive perspective, if this is the worst I have to complain about, I’m doing pretty good for an old fucker.

I woke up to the sad news this morning that another person I’ve known here has passed away. Alan was a long-time resident and former manager at the Palm Tree Resort (that’s where I met him) and an all-around good guy. He had returned to the UK a couple of weeks ago for some medical treatment (I think it was prostate related). This morning his sister posted that Alan had died in his sleep last night. I feel very bad for his sweetheart Christine who was devoted to him. I sent her my condolences and told her to let me know if she needs any kind of help. She is facing tough times I’m sure.

I sometimes joke about the Barretto expat community resembling a retirement village. Most of us here are retired old farts, so it shouldn’t really be all that surprising that the death rate among us is going to be relatively high. I’m not all that morbidly inclined, but I can’t help but wonder who is going to be next, recognizing that one day it will be me. A good reminder to make the best of the time you have before it runs out. I’m not sure I make the best use of my time, but I try to do the things I enjoy best. Maybe that’s enough.

I’m not a big fan of Facebook and don’t engage there nearly as much as I used to. And don’t get me started on what a total douchebag Mark Zuckerman has proven himself to be. Still, it has its value in some ways. For example, it helps you keep in touch with old friends you might not otherwise ever hear from again after you’ve moved away–I routinely send birthday greetings to folks back in the USA and Korea that I’ll probably never see again in person. For some reason, I was thinking of an old friend from my Prescott, AZ days, Joe Heydorn. I did a search on Facebook and found an account that I thought might be him, so I sent him a message:

Remember me? I was the best man at your wedding sometime last century.

Six weeks later, I got this response:

Hello, John. It was exactly 40 years ago yesterday. Thanks to your training, I did 37+ years with the USPS. I’ll never forgive you.

HaHa! Well, I’m glad to hear he’s doing well.

And of course, the other thing Facebook provides me is a flashback with its daily “memories” feature. I was pretty much a fucked up mess during my last year in Korea which is all on me and something I really regret–wasting what could have been some of the best times of my life. So, five years ago (about two weeks before I moved to the PI) I posted this:

Tonight I’ll continue down the road to my destiny. I’ll begin the evening with my Hideaway feeding and then decide where I might drown my sorrows next. I’m joking (mostly) about that second part–I’m over the sorrows and well into the acceptance mode. This week I had a gal beseeching me for a “second chance” and didn’t relent on my denial. When she kept pleading “Why?” I simply responded, “Because I don’t need the drama that comes with you.” That seemed to shut her up.

Alright, that’s it for now. I’m going to go spend some time with Lucifer.

I’m not calling yesterday’s Hare, Leech My Nuggets, the Devil or anything, but it was hot and hellish on the Hash trail yesterday. Or at least the half of it I did was. Still got in a tad over 7K, including the walk from my place. I’ll put up the photos from the hike at the end of this post.

So, Angie (the gal I recently met at Queen Victoria) brought her friend Rose along to join us on the Hash trail. They arrived at my place a little after 11:00 a.m. and I had my helper fry up some chicken wings for our lunch (I heated some broccoli for our side dish). With lunch out of the way, there was still an hour to kill before it was time to head out for the Hash. It had been months since I’d turned on my TV, but I wanted to keep my guests entertained, so I started scrolling through the offerings on Netflix. I admit some of the shows looked interesting and I also noticed the new season of Manifest is available. I guess the fact that I’ve not felt compelled to continue where I left off last year is a review of sorts. Anyway, Rose said she liked scary shows, so we clicked on a series called Lucifer.

I’d never even heard of this show, but it ran for six seasons (three on Fox and three more on Netflix. I found the first episode of season one very entertaining and enjoyable, enough so that I’m thinking about squeezing an hour or two into my daily routine to put that Netflix subscription I’m paying for to use. Stay tuned.

Anyway, it was a good day on trail overall. My guests drank enough to make the 300 pesos entrance fee a bargain (especially since I paid). Oh, and I just remembered this incident. Someone (we didn’t see who) had dropped a 500 peso bill just outside the front door at Johansson’s. Angie rushed out to pick it up, and when she sat down she exclaimed, “Now I can buy milk for my baby.” I was thinking whoever dropped the money would likely be looking for it, and I was curious to see what Angie would do. Sure enough, a gal was walking around near the door and I asked her what was she looking for. “I dropped my 500 pesos somewhere.” Angie immediately said, “I found it” and returned the money. Good for her. I gave her 1000 pesos and said you can now buy twice as much milk for being honest. Oh, and later on I put the money dropper on the ice for “littering.” Heh.

Rose and Angie were still finishing their beers when I told them goodnight and headed out. I was hungry (I’d bought them something to eat earlier) and had a hankering for my favorite from Mangos:

Did my nightcap at Sloppy Joe’s just across the highway. Only one other customer and the waitress said the Hashers had all gone to It Doesn’t Matter. Yeah, I figured but I wasn’t wanting to walk that far. Had my beer and caught a trike for home.

Speaking of It Doesn’t Matter, looks like I’ll be spending Sunday afternoon there this week:

I’m going to visit Dr. Jo this afternoon to discuss some issues I’m having with my left knee and leg. No pain, but occasionally numb and tingly. I was in a walk-it-off mode yesterday morning, at least until my knee collapsed and I found myself sprawled on the ground. I was worried about doing the Hash but had no issues on the hike. This morning at the grocery store, it went tingly again. Makes me nervous that the knee might give out at the wrong time and place and I’ll be in deep doo-doo. My internet sleuthing didn’t turn up anything consistent with my symptoms, so we’ll see what the good doctor has to say.

Sees ya all tomorrey then. (Yeah, it’s probably brain damage)

Try as I might, I just can’t seem to avoid drama, even if it doesn’t directly involve me.

Mary invited herself to join me for last night’s SOB, and I accepted her invitation. After the show, she wanted to come home with me, and I didn’t resist that overture either. I went to bed, and she lay beside me, busy on her phone. I actually found it rather irritating because I was feeling a little frisky. Anyway, suddenly, she sprang up and said she had to go. Apparently, her drug-addicted uncle had beat up her grandmother. This has been going on for some time. Why anyone would tolerate that kind of behavior is a mystery to me, but I guess Granny can’t find a way to tell her son to fuck off. The bottom line for me was I woke up alone again this morning.

My part-time helper, who lives in the maid’s room downstairs, messaged me with a plea for 6,000 pesos to bail her brother out of jail. He got busted in a drug raid at his friend’s house in Subic. His story is he wasn’t aware his friend was involved with drugs and is an innocent victim in all of this. He’s making other allegations of police corruption, but methinks he might be protesting too much. If you choose to run with the wrong crowd, this kind of thing will happen. Anyway, I made the loan because it would suck to be stuck in a Filipino jail indefinitely waiting for a trial, especially if you are innocent. If he is guilty, he’ll be back in soon enough. One of my friends with benefits got busted for drugs, and I ceased all contact with her after that. I do not want to be around anyone doing illegal shit; the potential consequences for innocent bystanders are too severe.

This morning Darlene messaged me pleading for a second chance. I didn’t give her one but tried to be nice in my rejection. Her parting shot was that I give up too quickly. I bit my tongue and let it go. Who needs the drama?

Hmm, I see now that I was writing about darts drama back in 2018. I feel a little bad about that now because the Drama King I wrote about died a few months later.

UPDATE: I was just chatting with one of the Cheap Charlies gals I know, and she said lots of the staff there are afraid of me because I throw “tantrums.” Shit. Maybe I attract drama because I’m so dramatic. Still, whenever I’ve been upset in Cheap Charlies, I had valid reasons. But I guess that is also a matter of perspective. Something to think about.

No drama involved with the Friday group hike. The closest we came was a new landowner who has chosen to erect fences that interfered with the My Bitch trail. We were able to find a walk-around this time, but this kind of thing doesn’t bode well for the future.

It was an otherwise pleasant hike. Here are some photos from along the way:

The SOB was at Alaska Club last night. Before the show, I went to Angel’s Bakery next door for something to eat.

The SOB went well, with the Whiskey Girl team taking first place. A very close contest this week.

Alright, let’s see what Saturday night holds in store. Thanks for dropping in.