I can always find someone
To say they sympathize
If I wear my heart out on my sleeve
But I don't want some pretty face
To tell me pretty lies
All I want is someone to believe

I guess it is still technically Father’s Day back in the USA, so I’ll post a memory of my dad in his honor:

Facebook took me to task this morning for speaking honestly. Well, posting something truthful that they didn’t like. Here it is for your reading pleasure:

An opinion piece from a vaccinated Australian writer:

“If Covid were a battlefield, it would still be warm with the bodies of the unvaccinated. Thankfully the mandates are letting up, and both sides of the war stumble back to the new normal. The unvaccinated are the heroes of the last two years as they allowed us all to have a control group in the great experiment and highlight the shortcoming of the Covid vaccines. The unvaccinated carry many battle scars and injuries as they are the people we tried to break mentally, yet no one wants to talk about what we did to them and what they forced “The Science “to unveil. We knew that the waning immunity of the fully vaccinated had the same risk profile as others within society as the minority of the unvaccinated, yet we marked them for special persecution. You see, we said they had not “done the right thing for the greater good” by handing their bodies and medical autonomy over to the State. Many of the so-called health experts and political leaders in Australia admitted the goal was to make life almost unlivable for the unvaccinated, which was multiplied many times by the collective mob, with the fight taken into workplaces, friendships, and family gatherings.

Today the hard truth is none of it was justified as we took a quick slide from righteousness to absolute cruelty. We might lay the blame on our leaders and health experts for the push, but each individual within society must be held accountable for stepping into the well-laid-out trap. We did this despite knowing full well that principled opposition is priceless when it comes to what goes inside our bodies, and we let ourselves be tricked into believing that going into another ineffective lockdown would be the fault of the unvaccinated and not the fault of the toxic policy of ineffective vaccines. We took pleasure in scapegoating the unvaccinated because after months of engineered lockdowns by political leaders blinded by power, having someone to blame and to burn at the stake felt good. We believed we had logic, love, and truth on our side, so it was easy to wish death upon the unvaccinated. Those of us who ridiculed and mocked the non-compliant did it because we were embarrassed by their courage and principles and didn’t think the unvaccinated would make it through unbroken, and we turned the holdouts into punching bags. Lambie, Carr, Chant, Andrews, McGowan, Gunner, and the other cast of hundreds in prominent roles need to be held to account for vilifying the unvaccinated in public and fueling angry social media mobs. The mobs, the mask Nazis, and the vaccine disciples have been embarrassed by “betting against” the unvaccinated because mandates only had the power we gave them. It was not compliance that ended domination by Big Pharma Companies, Bill Gates and his many organizations, and the World Economic Forum… It was THANKS to the people we tried to embarrass, ridicule, mock and tear down. We should all try and find some inner gratitude for the unvaccinated as we took the bait by hating them because their perseverance and courage bought us the time to see we were wrong. So if mandates ever return for Covid or any other disease or virus, hopefully, more of us will be awake and see the rising authoritarianism that has no concern for our well-being and is more about power and control. The War on the Unvaccinated was lost, and we should all be very thankful for that.”

This is the first time FB actually blocked something I posted entirely (I have had fact check/context blocks added before, but they really didn’t want anyone to see this post. I wonder why? I got this message within one minute of posting:

No one else can see your post. We encourage free expression but don’t allow false information about COVID-19 that could lead to physical harm. If your content goes against Community Standards again, your account may be restricted or disabled.

Well, fuck you, Facebook. The plebes are waking up and hopefully won’t be fooled again.

Back here in the real world, the gals at Hideaway Bar seemed to enjoy the meal I provided:

The owner sent me over a free beer, and Joy surprised me with a Father’s Day gift:

After Hideaway, I headed back to my side of town. Once again, I had to pee by the time I got to Cheap Charlies, so I went up and took a leak, then I ordered a beer. I ignored my old regular girls just like they had ignored me but turned my attention to the cutie next to me named Anna. She was aloof but honest about it. None of that suck-up pretending to care routine in the hopes of getting a lady drink. I bought her one anyway, as much to rub it in on my former bar mates as anything.

Anna and I did have a nice chat, though, as she slowly sipped her drink. I asked her if she had a boyfriend, and she told me, “no, and I don’t want one.” Hmm. Why not? “My priority is being with my kids; I don’t have time for a boyfriend.” “Not even a rich one like me?” I joked. She just laughed. I asked her age (24) and the age of her kids (8 and 7). “So, you were only 16 when your first child was born?” Yes, she responded, we didn’t have a TV. What else was there to do? I got a laugh out of that, but it also had a ring of truth. I’ve noticed that the poorest of the poor seem to have the most kids. You gotta fill those hours somehow, I reckon. Anyway, I enjoyed our chat and appreciated her blunt honesty. She’s my new favorite at Cheap Charlies!

I had one more stop left in me, so I headed over to Alaska Club. Marissa, the dancer I met Friday, wasn’t working, but my crush Karen was.

It had been in my mind that I was going to have to choose who I flirt with on future visits to Alaska. Marissa has given signs that she’d be up for a rendezvous, while Karen is much more reserved. It seemed like an excellent opportunity to clear things up some, and the belly full of beer gave me the confidence to ask if Karen had any interest in getting to know me better. Bless her heart; she was honest in her response. “No, I don’t.” Hey, the truth can hurt sometimes, but I much prefer it to all the pretend bullshit in this town. Thanks for that, Karen!

After the dog walk, I took myself on down to Baloy Beach for a morning stroll.

Some sad news, fellow Hasher Cabbage Patch has left us for the big On-On in the sky.

I came across this article loaded with photos from the cruising scene in Southern Cal in the summer of ’72. Brought back a lot of memories (we had a similar cult down in Orange County). Of course, I was comparatively poor, so none of those fancy muscle cars you’ll see at the link in my group. In fact, we did our cruisin’ in my pal Steve’s ’56 Pontiac. Good times.

Honestly, that’s all I’ve got for now. It’s Hash Monday, so you know what to expect tomorrow!

Honesty is such a lonely word
Everyone is so untrue
Honesty is hardly ever heard
And mostly what I need from you

Not much to report from here, but I’ll report it anyway. Started out at IDM and ran into Chris and his gal there. Chris is relatively new in town, but we seem to have formed a fast friendship. He laughs at most of my jokes; that’s all it takes for me! Retired Air Force and has lots of interesting stories to tell about his travels, including the Philippines back in the glory days of the 1980s. Snuggled up with my new favorite bargirl Agnes, downed several cold San MIg Zeros, and I was a happy camper. Well, as happy as I get anyway.

Supper time rolled around, and I was ready for some grub. The food at IDM is fine, but I was ready for a change of scenery. Thought about Mango’s, but on the way, I decided I was in the mood for some fish and chips. The best in town was just a bit further down the road. I ordered up a beer and bought my bartender friend a lady drink. Told her I wanted the medium-size order of fish and chips and told her she could order something if she was hungry. She said she would have a sandwich.

When the food arrived, I was gobsmacked. The waitress placed a foot-long sub sandwich in front of me. I told the bartender I didn’t order this; I asked for fish and chips. She had a blank look on her face and said, “sorry.” Okay, I just couldn’t grasp how you can mess up such a simple order, and I don’t know how you can confuse “sub sandwich” and “fish and chips.” She couldn’t explain it; she just kept saying “sorry.” Okay, I was really hungry and disappointed, so I decided to pay my tab and leave. And then she did that, not finishing her lady drink, walking away, and ignoring me routine. I was more upset with that behavior than I was about the food order fuck up. I paid up and told her I didn’t appreciate the way I was treated, then left in a foul mood.

My friend did message me later and expressed remorse for her behavior. I accepted her apology and won’t bear a grudge. I think she is going through some difficult times and might be a bit distracted in her thinking. No hard feelings towards her now.

A bit further up the road, I was passing Kamto and saw my friend Erik sitting outside. I waved and intended to keep on walking, but then I saw owner Paula beckoning me to join them. How could I refuse? I ordered up a beer to quench my thirst and a chicken burger to satiate my hunger. A couple more folks arrived, and the party was on. I was tasked with DJ duty, and my fellow guests seemed to appreciate the classic rock selections from the 80s. I stayed out past my bedtime (almost 10!), so I must have been having a drunken good time. Actually, Paula sent a video of me dancing and playing an “air guitar” along with the music. Still crazy after all these years!

Today is Father’s Day, and I promised Joy I’d pay a visit to Hideaway Bar. I made up a batch of chili, some cornbread muffins, and brownies for dessert to help celebrate with my bar family there. Heh, the staff are all young enough to be my daughters. Er, granddaughters, I reckon.

That’s how we roll here.

A trip, a falls, and an SOB. Not a bad day at all.

The Friday hiking group traveled out to the far side of Olongapo City, then hoofed it up to Martin Falls. And no, Martin didn’t fall this time. It was actually a very nice trail with a gradual ascent through some beautiful scenery. I always appreciate new vistas, and this was probably the nicest waterfall I’ve seen in these parts.

Got home, took a shower and a nap, wrote a crappy post for the blog, then headed out for my big Friday night in town featuring the return of the Sons of Baccus dance competition.

Back in the day, my ex Marissa would always attend the SOB with me. It felt strange sitting there with no company, so I decided to call one of the dancers down to join me.

Karen joined me and Marissa at the conclusion of the event and I bought her a drink. There didn’t seem to be any tension between the two of them. Why would there be? Karen probably felt relieved that she wouldn’t have to deal with my affections. That’s okay, it’s all part of the game. One guy did have the audacity to ask Karen for a barfine (paid take out from the bar for nefarious purposes) and Karen flatly rejected him. Idiot. She’s a f’n cherry girl, she ain’t giving it up for money. I don’t expect she’ll be giving it up for my love either. Oh well. Marissa messaged me this morning to tell me she likes my smile.

And so it goes.

Sorry for the failure to post your daily dose of the inane, lame, and insane here yesterday. Events superseded my best intentions. But I’m back today with twice the goodness you’ve come to expect at LTG. And yes, I know that is a very low bar.

My intended post that never happened was going to be about my first dartless Tuesday since beginning my retirement from the game. I just took those hours I would have wasted playing darts and devoted them to my other nighttime hobby–drinking beers with lovely ladies who enjoy my company as long as they are earning drink commissions. But as it turned out before I could write that post, I got called away to participate in the end-of-season MVP competition, an event I had explicitly declined to join. Well, one of the players from my team injured his arm, and I felt obligated to at least help his doubles partner avoid a forfeit. So, my afternoon plans of blogging and napping were ruined. I played like shit again, and we went 1-2 in match play, failing to make the finals. I hope that constitutes my final kiss goodbye.

The “big” unreported events from my Tuesday include a visit to the immigration office, where I was granted another 60 days of legal living in this promised land. My time is running out, though; I can only stay on a tourist visa for three years, meaning I need to leave by December. The more I learn about the vaxx, the less I want to get jabbed, but I may have no choice if I want to be able to return to the Philippines. Getting out is not a problem now; many countries have put the stupid scamdemic rules away (for now, anyway). My tentative plan is to visit Cambodia for a few days, then reset my three-year clock when I fly back here. Maybe sanity will return here before I leave, but I’m not counting on it. Get the jab or be locked in a hotel room for a week. I’ve got a couple more months to decide, but I’m leaning towards surrendering and getting the shot.

Instead of playing darts, I got a haircut and then treated myself to dinner at Sit-n-Bull.

After dinner, I went next door to The Green Room to see Maria. She said she needed a customer so she could afford medicine for her child, who has the dreaded dengue fever.

It started raining, but I still wasn’t ready to go home yet. I briskly walked up the highway to Alaska Club, dodging as many raindrops as possible. My favorite there, Karen, was waiting to serve me.

The big news in town this week is that the SOB (Sons of Baccus) dance contest is returning Friday night at Alaska after a 2+ year hiatus. I expect I’ll be first in line. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that Karen will be one of the performers for Alaska. She’s a waitress normally (by choice), so this is really stepping up. I hope I get picked to be a judge!

After the Wednesday Walkers hike (more about that later), I attended a Hash meeting at the VFW. The purpose of the meeting was to discuss and vote on what to do about the Hashmobile. It blew a gasket last week, and the repair estimate is between sixty to eighty thousand pesos. We currently have around eighty thousand in the Hash bank account and are lucky to break even at the Hash events each week. So, repairing the truck would essentially bankrupt the Hash. I argued in favor of scrapping it because it’s old, worn out, and a money pit. It’s also uncomfortable and in my opinion unsafe as a means of transport. We can always rent Jeepneys like we did last week when there is a remote start for the Hash trail. Well, the issue turned out to be more controversial than I expected, but the counter-arguments struck me as being based more on sentimentality and tradition than reason and logic.

It was during this truck meeting that I received the urgent message asking me to play darts. So, I hurried home, took a shower, then headed out to Harley’s on Baloy road to join the competition. As previously mentioned, I sucked. We were eliminated before 5:00 (after a 2:00 p.m. start), and I had business to attend to on the other side of town. I made the long walk to Hideaway Bar, stopping briefly at Shamboli’s:

And of course, one of those girls was my favorite, Joy. She was also the business I needed to attend to. I had promised her that I’d pay for some dental work she needed, and her appointment was the following morning. So, I handed over the required 4000 pesos.

Every little bit helps, I suppose. And I went home feeling like I had accomplished my good deed for the day.

So, that leaves the Wednesday Walkers report. Once again, we took a Jeepney ride out to Subic town to explore new paths. I’m sure Lewis and Clark didn’t always reach their intended destination on the first try, and neither did we.

Quite the adventure, no?

Anyway, that’s the latest update to my story. I’m always ready for the next big thing, whether it be when walking or when drinking. If I could go back and tell that guy in the pink shirt above what lay in store for him, I wonder what he would have said. Well, I hope he would have at least quit smoking before doing the damage this version of myself has to deal with. Oh well, I’m still alive, and that’s good enough for me.

The construction behind my house continues apace. The noise is disquieting enough, but as if to add an exclamation point, the workers are blasting music all damn day long. Yesterday one of the songs had a familiar ring–it was the Billy Ray Cyrus classic Achy Breaky Heart. Except that it was in Tagalog. Do these lyrics even translate?

You can tell your ma I moved to Arkansas
You can tell your dog to bite my leg
Or tell your brother Cliff whose fist can tell my lip
He never really liked me anyway
Or tell your Aunt Louise, tell anything you please
Myself already knows I'm not okay
Or you can tell my eyes to watch out for my mind
It might be walking out on me today

I sang a little this morning on the way to the grocery store, and both my driver and my helper recognized the song. I did a Google search, and it turns out this was a worldwide hit, especially in the UK. I always thought of it as a funky country tune that didn’t appeal outside of its intended redneck audience. I was also surprised to see that the song inspired a Filipino movie called The Achy Breaky Hearts.

So, how’s my achy breaky heart doing? I reckon I’m doing alright, but it was a little disconcerting to wake up after my drunken Saturday night and see I had posted this pathetic little gem on Facebook:

All I want and all I need is someone by my side. Where are you hiding, my love?

By the time I saw it, there were already numerous likes and comments, so there was really no point in deleting it. I had no recollection of posting it or what prompted me to do so. I guess I just started feeling sorry for myself again. I am okay now, though, even if my drunken self has not yet totally embraced this solitary life of mine. I took some good-natured ribbing from a former crush when I ran into her the other day, and a commenter accused me of being “too picky.” Yeah, I’ve missed out on some opportunities through my stupidity hard-headedness, but I’ve also likely saved myself from additional pain as well. I’m keeping an open mind, and things can always change in the wink of a young girl’s eye.

I was surprised to hear from Loraine the other night. It’s been almost five years since she fucked me over. We’ve exchanged brief greetings for birthdays and holidays over the years, but no real substantial conversation. Well, texting, I mean. Anyway, things don’t seem to be going as planned with the man she dumped me for, but I take no joy in that, nor do I bear her any ill will. It did get me thinking about what my life here would have been like had she joined me as originally intended. We’ll never know, of course, but I remembered the last time we were physically together (about three weeks prior to her dumping me), we had celebrated her 50th birthday on Boracay. So, she’s going to be 55 soon. Wow. And I caught myself thinking, would I have remained satisfied with such an older woman? I hope so, and honestly, Loraine was plenty sexy and talented in the ways of lovemaking. Yeah, the younger gals may be smoking hot, but many of them aren’t so good in bed. So sayeth the 66-year-old wise man. Loraine ended the chat by saying she might come up for a Hash someday. I gave my standard response that “everyone is welcome.” I don’t expect I’ll be seeing her anytime soon.

My friend Bhel, the bartender at Outback, came out for yesterday’s Hash. It was her second time Hashing, and she said she enjoyed it. I was more than a little surprised when Thalia showed up. She’s the Angeles gal I met on a dating site who spent a weekend with me back in March. That didn’t end well, and it was disconcerting to see her back in town without any advance notice. Seeing her again gave me one of those “what was I thinking?” moments. There is nothing I find attractive about her.

As I feared, Thalia had it in her head that I would spend time with her after the Hash. I disabused her of that idea as gently but firmly as possible. She didn’t want to take no for an answer but eventually gave up and caught a bus back to Angeles. Meanwhile, Bhel assumed I had something going on with Thalia and gave me the cold shoulder all night. Perhaps a missed opportunity for us both. And so it goes.

Walking home after the Hash, I passed by the Carwash/Kamto, and my friend Erik was there, so I popped in. The ex was there too, and we had a friendly chat. I’m still not over her, though, and I found my mind wandering to places it doesn’t need to go. I left before I had anything to regret.

Saw this gal trying to get a picture of me today:

Don’t tell my heart, my achy breaky heart, I just don’t think he’d understand…

The Hash was a little different than normal. The Hare didn’t pre-mark the trail; instead, he took a ten-minute headstart and marked as he went while we all followed in pursuit. That’s actually the traditional Hash method–the hounds chasing the Hare, as it were. The trail was almost entirely pavement, and the two climbs were via stairsteps. Not too hard, which of course, is the way I like it. Here are some photos:

And so it went, and so it goes.

And here’s a little bonus: Remember Rhinestone Cowboy by Glen Campbell? Here’s a Filipino version called Kawawang Cowboy. I have no idea if the Tagalog lyrics are the same, but I kinda doubt it.

Sometimes you just gotta let it all go and have some fun. Take last night, for instance.

After dinner and some beers, I headed over to Goldilocks and purchased a large size birthday cake. Yep, I had a party to tend to. Aine, my fav at Wet Spot, was celebrating 40 years of life here on planet Earth. So, I arrived at the bar, cake in hand.

Of course, I told her to order whatever she wanted for her birthday meal.

Naturally, her co-workers shared in the bounty.

Lots of beers for me and lady drinks for Aine and our waitress. It was a good time. I was thinking about how I hadn’t really been fair to Aine. She had clearly been interested in me, but I never took the bait. It’s not her age; I find her very attractive. Her English is good, and we have some witty conversations. I think it is just that after working in the bar scene, as long as she has, you can become jaded. I had also heard second-hand stories from her ex, which gave me cause to be wary and stay away. But maybe I had been too quick to judge. And it is not like gals are knocking down my door and lining up to be my girlfriend. Well, except for the ones I pay. So, I started thinking that maybe I should agree to see her outside of the bar like she had asked me to do several weeks ago.

As I’m entertaining those thoughts, Aine leaned close to me and whispered, “John, there’s something I need to tell you.” Alright, let’s hear it; maybe she’s thinking like me. “I’ve met someone, and he is going to take me out of the bar.” Okay, good for you. Good luck; I hope it works out for you both. No, I didn’t let it kill my buzz, and I wasn’t upset. That’s how it works, and that is what most bar girls dream about.

I partied on until my standard departure time of 8:30 arrived, and then I called it a night. This morning Aine messaged me and thanked me again for the wonderful party. She said she hoped we could still be friends. Of course, I told her.

So, the bar tab for my drinks and the lady drinks came to 3000 pesos. The food was 1800 pesos. The cake was 600 pesos. All in for just a little over a hundred bucks. That’s how you can afford to live large and party hard here.

Bring on the next adventure!

Wednesday’s hike had an element of surprise. Max brought along his dog. Everything went fine until we were on top of the mountain, and Max let him off the leash. We encountered a goat with horns on the trail, a sight the young dog had apparently never seen. It must have looked like a canine satan to him because he took off running. Max finally found him a couple of kilometers back toward where we had started. I’m glad that story had a happy ending.

Finished the dart league season with a 9-4 victory over Queen Victoria. I continue to throw like I’ve never played the game before. I told my teammates I was going to take a break from darts for a while but would be available as a substitute next season should the need arise. I’m thinking not playing for a few weeks may act as a reset (like unplugging the computer and plugging it back in), and I’ll rediscover my lost ability. As it is, I’m not enjoying playing, so there isn’t much point in continuing for now.

One of the opponents yesterday was a girl I know from Cheap Charlies, Jiselle.

It didn’t appear she had ever played darts before, but her Auntie, the team captain, needed a player and drafted Jiselle. She actually improved as the day went on, and I think she’d be pretty decent at darts if she worked at it. Anyway, it was nice to see her cute ass (and face) outside of the bar. Alas, her lack of interest in elderly me was quite apparent. Oh well, a man can dream.

When the match was over, I said my goodbyes and headed up the beach:

As usual, there was someone singing videoke poorly and loudly when I arrived. I ordered up a beer anyway. Thankfully, after just a couple of songs, the couple left, and I had some peace and quiet.

And then I was in for a bit of a surprise when a Hash friend, Reylyn (aka What’s Up Doc) arrived with two of her friends. So, the party was on! And so was the videoke machine. If you can’t beat them, join them, I suppose. I did two of my standards: Patsy Cline’s Crazy and I Started A Joke by the Bee Gees. Now, in my defense, I’d been drinking since early afternoon. It was all in good fun. They were still there when I left.

I walked up Baloy road towards National highway, thinking I’d catch a trike along the way or get one at the trike stand on the corner. One did offer a ride, but for some reason, I declined. I guess I just wasn’t quite ready to call it a night. The closest place for a cold beer was the Snackbar, so I popped in. I was semi-surprised to be greeted and welcomed by the owner, Pearl. She was seated at a table with two other guests I’m acquainted with, and she motioned to an empty chair so I could join them. How could I refuse?

It was good to see her and chat again. Almost felt like old times. I bought a round of drinks for everyone and enjoyed the camaraderie. Yes, I’ve been missing her, but life goes on, and I’m glad that we are still on friendly terms—a nice ending to a drunken day.

Here are a few pictures from yesterday’s hike.

An interesting day, or at least as interesting as things get around here for me.

Woke up with this song on my mind for some reason.

I keep forgettin' we're not in love anymore
I keep forgettin' things will never be the same again
I keep forgettin' how you made that so clear
I keep forgettin', darlin'

Every time you're near
Every time I see you smile
Hear your "hello"
Saying you can only stay a while

Hey, I know that it's hard for you
To say the things that we both know are true
But tell me how come I

Keep forgettin' we're not in love anymore
I keep forgettin' things will never be the same again
I keep forgettin' how you made that so clear
I keep forgettin', baby

Everytime I hear
How you never want to live a lie
How it's gone too far
And you don't have to tell me why

Why you're gone and why the game is through
If this is what's real, if this is what's true
Tell me how come I

Keep forgettin' we're not in love anymore, baby
I keep forgettin' things will never be the same again
I keep forgettin' how you made that so clear, yeah, yeah
I keep forgettin', babe

Don't say that, don't say that, don't say that
I know you're not mine anymore, anyway, anytime
Tell me how come I

Keep forgettin' we're not in love anymore
(How come I)
I keep forgettin' things will never be the same again
I keep forgettin' how you made that so clear
I keep forgettin', baby
Every time you're near

You must go and stand your trials
You have to stand it by yourself
Nobody else can stand it for you
You have to stand it by yourself.

Oh, you gotta walk that lonesome valley
Oh, you gotta walk it by yourself
Nobody else is gonna walk it for you
You gotta walk, walk it by yourself.

Well, it’s Hash Monday, so I won’t be walking alone. My advance peek at the trail does show it going through the Naugsol valley, though. It’s a Gunther/Leech trail, so it won’t be easy. The On-Home is at the Alta Vista country club, so at least I won’t have far to go when the Hash is over.

Last night was more of the same old, same old. Beers for me and drinks for a couple of the girls at IDM. They gave me a nice leg and shoulder rub in return, so that was pleasant. One of them might be crushing on me, and I admit, having someone at my side who likes to touch would be comforting. But I’m a selfish bastard, and I don’t want to take on the burden of four(!) kids. I’ll just settle for some bar companionship instead,

After I left IDM, I encountered “mama.” I didn’t have any small money on me, so I took her into a nearby market and let her buy a few things, got my change, and gave her the usual 100 pesos. Ah, the satisfaction that comes from making the world just a little bit better for someone is worth so much more than I spend. Yes, I understand that it is kind of perverted to use charity to make you feel better about yourself, but that’s just the way I roll.

I decided to have a couple of more beers before catching the trike home, so I popped into Mango’s. Got there in time to enjoy the sunset.

Speaking of beauty, there was a woman sitting a couple of stools down from me who really grabbed my attention. She wasn’t dressed sexy or anything like that; there was just something about her that attracted me. At first, I figured she was waiting to meet someone, but then I saw she ordered something off the menu and was dining alone. It occurred to me that I ought to strike up a conversation and see if she might welcome some company. In the end, I didn’t have the courage to do so. The fact that I’m still thinking about her this morning may be an indicator that I made a mistake. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I guess the easy game with bargirls has ruined me.

The waitress had offered me a menu when I arrived, but I declined because I was cooking at home. To answer the question posed in the title of this post, the beef was in the crockpot.

I haven’t been sleeping all that well the past few days. Been waking up in the middle of the night and needing to use the nebulizer to restore easy breathing. Then I get serenaded by that damn gecko when I try to go back to sleep. I did manage a six hours of sleep last night, so that’s progress.

We are starting the Hash a couple of hours earlier than normal today. In part because we are celebrating the 1500th running of the Subic Bay Hash House Harriers. And also, the long trail is over 10K and includes a tough climb up to Kalaklan ridge. The short trail is a 6K version with a somewhat lesser climb. You can read all about it here tomorrow.

According to my blog stats, I’ve lost nearly a third of my readers over these past few weeks. Can’t say that I blame them. Still, a big thank you to the faithful few who check in regularly to see what’s going on in my so-called life. Maybe one of these days something of interest will take place. Hey, you never know; it could happen!

I met the newest doctor(s) in town this morning. A husband and wife team, although technically, the husband doesn’t practice medicine. An American trained in the USA is not eligible for licensing here in the PI. The wife, a Filipina, runs the show. I was actually quite impressed with both of them. A thorough intake interview and then some suggestions for natural vitamin remedies that may eventually allow me to reduce some of my prescription drug intakes. I got a shot of B1 in the butt and something else through a drip bag in my arm, for starters. I confessed to my doc that I haven’t been vaccinated, and she responded, “neither have I.” That led us into a nice chat about the downsides, including potential long-term health risks, such as blood clots in my case. Anyway, it was a fascinating discussion with two medical professionals who see things pretty much the way I do regarding the scamdemic. I still may not have any choice but to get the jab since I need to leave the country soon in order to renew my visa. We’ll see. Anyway, I’m looking forward to traveling the road to better health with these two.

Speaking of doctor visits, Facebook reminded me of the Hash run four years ago that left me in stitches:

I came across this article that says that slower walking speed is associated with a higher risk of dementia. That’s pretty scary, given that I’m almost always last on our hikes. Some of that slowness can be blamed on my forays into picture taking, but I’m just not that fast, especially on uphill sections. The article talks about becoming slower as a warning sign, so I paid closer attention to my speed on my walk yesterday.

I forget what I was going to say next. *ahem*

My Saturday evening activities included beer drinking in an assortment of venues. Started at Hideaway Bar.

I had a special coupon for Hot Zone: buy one customer drink, get one customer drink, ALL NIGHT LONG. Well, Hot Zone doesn’t open until 6:00 p.m., but when the time arrived, I hoofed on over to try and get my money’s worth. After I sat down and placed my order, I was surprised to see Anna come in with a Hot Zone uniform. I’ve known her since before I moved here; she lives just outside of Alta Vista and works as a housekeeper for one of my neighbors. And all the time I’ve known her, she’s been a Wet Spot girl. I’m not clear on the circumstances, but she’s now a Hot Zone dancer. Naturally, I sat her down and set her up with a lady drink. My two-for-one deal had suddenly become much more expensive, and after my third free beer (and three LDs for Anna), I reckoned it was time to move on. Damn, those coupons are actually costing me money!

I still had one more stop to make along the way–Alaska Club. My new favorite, Karen, was working the door and invited me in. We shared some drinks and laughter. I was really pleasantly surprised to learn she’ll be participating in next week’s SOB dance contest–the first one since the scamdemic lockdown back in 2020. One more step towards normalcy.

It’s good to be alive, anyway. I’m going to try and keep it going for a while longer. Hopefully, my new docs will help me find a way to do that.

Or is Mother Nature calling me a fucker? This is the sound I’ve been hearing in the wee hours of the morning these past few days. At first, I thought it was some weird phone alert coming from my helper’s room. I asked her about it, and she said it was a lizard at the vacant house next door. She said it was called a “tokay.” So, I looked it up on the internet, and this is what I learned.

A gecko heckle, whaddya gonna do? And yes, if that’s the worst I can come up with to complain about, I am living a charmed life indeed!

An enjoyable Friday group hike with a twist–we followed a marked trail.

Well, it turned out that the trail was very familiar, most of it on the portion of My Bitch that we regularly hike. Still, it was nice not to have any tough climbs to impede our enjoyment. I had actually intended to join the group for the Sunday morning fun run, I’m up early anyway, but I have a doctor’s appointment at 10:00 a.m., so that would be pushing my luck. This is a new clinic in town, and I was surprised that it had Sunday hours, but if the doctor is in, then so am I.

I’ll upload the photos from the hike at the end of this post. At the end of our hike, I invited the group over for some beverages and snacks.

Yesterday, my other big event was my plan to help the mountain girl I support celebrate her birthday. We agreed to meet at the Arizona resort at 3:00 p.m. She hadn’t shown by 3:15, so I messaged her asking if she was coming. While I was waiting for a response, the “Dick” who sabotaged my previous relationship walked in and joined a group at the next table. We ignored each other, but it accelerated my already souring mood. I paid for my beer and left. Outside on the highway, I finally heard back from my date. It seems the brake on her motorscooter broke, and she had to walk rather than ride to our meeting. That’s not good. She lives on the mountain at the far end of Rizal Extension–that’s at least a 30-minute walk. I told her to take a trike, and I’d pay the fare. Of course, she’ll have to walk a ways to get to a place the trikes can access. She finally arrived at 3:45. I cut her some slack, seeing as how it was her birthday, and she can’t be blamed for defective transportation. Still, it would have been polite to message me, but she’s a Filipina, after all.

Instead of Arizona, I took her to John’s place to dine. We sat in the air-conditioned dining room in the window seats. A nice highway view from there. I was impressed when she ordered the pulled pork sandwich, one of my favorites on the menu. Disappointed she didn’t eat much of it, but she did get the leftovers for take-out.

During a lull in the dinner time conversation (and we don’t communicate all that well, I have difficulty understanding her sometimes), I pondered what she’d be like as a girlfriend. I know she would take good care of me and my needs; she has a good and loving heart. I pictured putting up a little one-bedroom nipa hut on her mountaintop with those million-dollar views. But when I considered the inconveniences that come with an isolated life, I knew I would not be happy. For one thing, it’s too far to walk to the bars, and most trikes can’t make it up the steep hill to carry your drunk ass home. I’d best stay put for now. I’ll will, of course, continue to provide weekly food stipends for her and the kids.

After our meal, I took her to the Goldilocks bakery and bought her a birthday cake. Also gave her some birthday money as a gift (she said she’ll use it to fix her scooter), and we said our goodbyes. She met up with some friends, and they enjoyed an evening at Baloy Beach. I’m glad she had a happy birthday.

After our parting, I spent some time at It Doesn’t Matter. The place was packed with bikers from the local motorcycle club. Not Hell’s Angels, thankfully, just a bunch of friendly guys (with their hot girlfriends) enjoying adult beverages in the midst of a Barretto bar hop. My waitress, Agnes, took good care of me, and I, of course, rewarded her with lady drinks. Martin (18 Kilo Ass) was there, and we had a nice chat. I had another drink coupon burning a hole in my pocket, and so I moved on to my next venue.

Wet Spot. It had been several weeks since my last visit and the “misunderstanding” that resulted with my favorite there, Aine. I wasn’t sure how’d she react to my return, but I need not have worried–she acted like nothing had happened. She sat down next to me, I ordered up a lady drink, and it was all business as usual. I asked if she was hungry, she said she was, so I ordered her a cheeseburger from Sit-n-Bull conveniently located next door (they actually have a waitress from Sit-n-Bull serving the bars). She seemed happy enough when she was doing her snuggle and cuddle routine, and what can I say, I liked it too. The manager sent me over a beer which kept me in place long enough to buy a second round of lady drinks. Later, owner Dave came in, having just returned from a trip to Amsterdam and Cincinnati, his two former hometowns. We had a nice chat and he bought me a beer too.

Aine told me she has a birthday next week (she’s turning 40!) and I promised I’d come by with a birthday cake and help her celebrate. She really is fun to hang out with–at least in the bar. And that’s the only experience we’ve shared. So far. (That’s not exactly foreshadowing, because I don’t have a clue what might happen next. I don’t usually do “take-out” from the bars, but I’m tempted to make an exception in her case. Stay tuned.)

I’d started early, so as is my custom, I finished early. Had a bit of a rough night at home, but I’ll elaborate on that in tomorrow’s post. Now, let’s get to those hiking photos, shall we?

That lizard only barks at night. Bastard.

Anyway, it was about as good a day as they get around here. I ain’t complaining. Much.

Just another day in the life.

Western Union was not accepting my transactions, so I used another service to wire my rent to the landlord’s bank account. I also sent $350 to a friend in Bohol for her son’s school tuition. I did that last year too. Paying for education is one of the more satisfying acts of charity. At least it can potentially make a difference in someone’s life.

I had made tentative plans to meet up with my newest Facebook friend, Gwenie. I just wasn’t feeling it, so I tried to back out. She said she was already dressed and ready to go. That made me feel bad, so I agreed to a late lunch at Sit-n-Bull.

Anyway, it was a nice enough lunch. No bells or whistles for me, but I’ll probably consent to a future massage.

After lunch, I gave Gwenie 500 pesos for the rejected massage and another 50 for trike fare home. She seemed happy with that.

My next stop was Hideaway Bar. Joy’s youngest has a birthday today, and she asked for some help to make the day special. I gave her 1000 pesos and a couple of lady drinks.

Agnes from It Doesn’t Matter had messaged me earlier in the day that she had three sick children and no money for medicine. She came into town and met me at Blue Butterfly. She stayed for a couple of drinks and left with the 1000 pesos she came for.

I wasn’t sure where I was going to go after I left Blue Butterfly. Then I had to go, and the closest place to pee was Cheap Charlies. So that’s where I went. After I took care of business, I stayed for a beer. I noticed that my homeless friend “mama” was camped out across the highway. I sent my waitress down to give her the standard daily 100 pesos. I rewarded my waitress with a lady drink for her assistance.

It was only 7:30, but I’d had enough. Paid my tab, caught a trike, and was home before 8:00. Sometimes that’s just the way I roll.

Maybe my Friday will be a little less normal. You never know what will happen next.

Lived through another day in the life. Started with the Wednesday Walkers group hike, assuming three participants constitute a “group.” Still, we had a nice hot climb up the Great Wall of Barretto on a beautiful day. Pictures at the end of this post.

In dart league, we faced off with the second-place team in a match that would determine the league champion. We lost 9-4. I played sloppy darts and lost at least one game I should have won, but even so, the final outcome would have been the same. Bottom line, they are the better team and earned their victory. Congrats to the Alley Wildcats team.

After darts, I went to It Doesn’t Matter. They were having a memorial gathering for the recently deceased JR.

Bob said JR would have loved this. Mission accomplished!

There is still a lot of controversy surrounding the manner of JR’s death. The official autopsy results have not been released. The consensus of the expat community is that this wasn’t a suicide. I’m not convinced either way. If the rumors are true that he had other knife wounds, then I’m going with murder. The embassy and a veteran’s group here are also involved in finding answers and representing JR’s interests. I’ll update when additional information becomes available.

It was a very long day of drinking, having started at 1:00 p.m. for darts. I somehow made it until 8:30, then headed home to sleep it all off. Woke up this morning to a brand new day, and I’ll make the most of it.

To the pictures from the Wednesday Walkers hike then:

Stick around to find out what happens next!

I can almost hear my readers asking, “aren’t they all?” Yeah, pretty much. But Tuesdays even more so. Instead of hiking, I do my grocery shopping. Nothing much I can say about that. Well, here is this week’s inflationary example:

The mountain girl I sponsor came by in the afternoon to give me a massage. During the happy ending, I became breathless, and she had to stop. Should have used my nebulizer before she started. I’m getting a little worried about my lung capacity of late, and I had my helper renew a prescription for a drug I stopped taking several months ago. Hopefully, that will help. And yes, I’m also making a doctor’s appointment.

Speaking of massages, I got a Facebook friend request from this girl:

Speaking of my helper, I found out she got married last week in Manila. She didn’t tell me; someone posted photos on FB. I congratulated her this morning. She says she is not quitting her job; he is going back to the states. I guess the plan is for her to get a visa to join him eventually. Best wishes to them both.

I totally sucked at darts last night. Some of the worst I can remember throwing. Two matches and out. Today is the big league match against Alley Cats with first place for the season on the line. Damn, I hope I throw better than I have been.

After the darts disaster, I took a long walk up the highway to John’s place. He had posted on Facebook about a new sandwich he was making:

I don’t think I’d ever had that kind of meat on bread, so I gave it a try:

I was tired and beered out of my meal, so I caught a trike on home.

I used to love making coffee for my ex:

Speaking of the past, Facebook reminded me that this is who I used to be:

This apparently is a true story:

My pal Scott shared his photo album for the month of May, and there are some very nice shots of the local landscape. Give it a look if you are interested.

That’s it from here for now. Thanks for dropping by.