No real surprises at the ENT doctor visit yesterday. Put the scope up my nose, shook his head with a tsk tsk sound, and said the blockage was stage four–complete. He prescribed some steroid medication which might result in some shrinkage, but surgery to remove the polyps is really the only option.

So, we discussed what was involved in getting the surgical procedure. Dr. Tolentino confirmed that I would have to be completely anesthetized during the operation. I would also have to be admitted to St. Jude’s hospital for an overnight stay after the surgery.

Doctor Tolentino won’t be available for two weeks, and in the interim, I’m supposed to get cleared by a cardiologist that I can safely undergo the procedure. I’m still not comfortable with the idea of being put to sleep, especially with my COPD issues. I’m also not wanting to be confined to a hospital room overnight. I’m considering a third opinion from the highly rated Clark Medical City in Angeles. I’m also toying with the idea of leaving the country for the surgery. Stay tuned.

Like a good ENT, Dr. Tolentino checked my ears and throat during my visit. He removed a clump of wax from my right ear that was as big as a fingernail. Hmm, maybe that was causing my deafness.

After the doctor’s visit, I took a trip to Seoul. That’s my favorite Korean restaurant in these parts, located on the old Navy base.

When we got back home, I took a nap, and Mary joined me. That was nice. Later in the afternoon, we walked to Baloy beach and visited the floating bar. I stuck with my beer diet, and Mary experimented with different mixed drinks, gin and soda, and then a margarita.

I didn’t actually enjoy this visit to the floater as much as I had previously. They were blaring the music so loud I couldn’t even hear Mary talking right next to me. I asked them to turn it down some, which they did, but I noticed the volume increased little by little as time went on. I had two beers and headed for shore.

Next stop, Johan’s. Mary continued her drink smorgasbord with a Tom Collins and then a Bloody Mary. She said she had never had a Bloody Mary before, and I challenged her, saying she has one monthly. Yeah, I’m a funny guy. Mary was surprised at how spicy it was and needed a bottle of water to stop the burning in her mouth.

When it was time to move on, we took a stroll down the beach to McCoy’s. I ordered her an apple beer while she was in the CR, and she was surprised because it was just what she wanted. Well, it had to be better than the Bloody Mary, and McCoy’s doesn’t serve mixed drinks, so it was an easy call.

I put Mary in a trike for home, but I wasn’t through just yet. That’s one of the benefits of beer consumption; my staying power is elongated. I popped into Snackbar for a couple of drinks with my old bargirl friends, including Lydell. She had seen me walking earlier with Mary but only asked about the floating bar. Yep, I’m proudly flaunting my player reputation these days!

I still wasn’t quite ready to call it a night, and I had a “buy one, get one coupon” to exploit before its expiration, so I made a rare visit to Queen Victoria, the nearest SOB bar to my current location. And that’s where I met Rein. Well, I had met her before. She briefly worked at the old Dive In Bar, which is now Hideaway. She had also been involved in the ill-fated Posiden bar in Calapadayan that was out of business after a few months. Anyway, I had a great time getting reacquainted with her; she’s quite the conversationalist.

Two beers, two lady drinks, then home safe and sound.

Speaking of Facebook, Nerissa from Cheap Charlies sent me a new friend request, and I accepted it. Of course, it’s a little too little and a little too late. Happy to be her friend again and feel comfortable returning to Cheap Charlies occasionally, but she has shown me a side of her character that foretells the drama that would come with a relationship. No, thank you! Or maybe I should thank her for teaching me to embrace being the player she thought I was.

And the Facebook memories feature reminded me just how damn happy I was to be living the Itaewon life back in 2006.

But things can certainly always be worse.

Speaking of accidents, there was a bad one this morning on the National Highway in downtown Barretto. I didn’t witness it, but someone sent me a video, and it was pretty gruesome. I understand the bus driver was killed, and many passengers in the Jeepney were severely injured.

Alright, well, let me leave you with something to cleanse your palate before I go. This is a children’s video, and it is hilarious when viewed in context.

The punchline is the definition of “Pekpek” in Tagalog.

I guess that’s about enough for one day’s reading here at LTG. I’m skipping the SOB tonight and escorting Mary on her continued journey of exploration in the bars of Barretto. We’ll start the night in Sloppy Joe’s and take it from there. Back tomorrow with a full report.

I set up a new hosting service with an outfit called Bluehost. I hope the migration goes well, would hate to lose 18 years of blogging history. The domain should activate within hours; moving the history might take a week.

I checked reviews, and Bluehost is supposed to be good, especially for WordPress blogs like mine. But whatever is wrong with Hostgator these past few days is bad enough, but their non-responsive customer “service” was inexcusable.

My other big thrill this morning was dealing with my Chase credit card account. I had cleaned my cookies in an effort to resolve the blog issues, and Chase no longer recognized my device, so I needed to enter a verification code. No big deal; in the past, they have always emailed the code. This time that was not an option; it had to be by phone. Except they had an old phone number from the USA. So, I had to call them, and that was a nightmare. When I finally got through, the person I was speaking with disconnected. When I got through again, a security question asked me what was my address in Fort Smith, Arkansas. Um, I lived there in 1982, and that’s about all I remember. A follow-up question was, who did my mortgage on a house in South Carolina? Does anyone remember crap like that? I don’t. Like I told the agent, I’m lucky to remember my name these days. Oh well, we finally got it resolved, and I have access to my account again. The first thing I did was update my phone number. They can contact me next time.

Anyway, rant over. For now.

I’ve had no luck contacting Hostgator’s alleged 24-hour chat help desk. And the accessing my blog issues continue. I mean, I can eventually get back online, but it takes several tries. No idea what the problem is. Anyway, I’ve decided to move to a new blog host service. Not sure how long the migration takes at this point, but if I’m offline, don’t panic; I’ll be back!

Shouldn’t be down for more than a few hours I’m told.

I looked all over San Antonio and didn’t find it. We did come across the Philippine Navy base, where we were detained during a Hash run back in 2019, but wisely did not breach the perimeter this time. The purpose of the trip to “not the one in Texas” was to scout potential Hash trails for an outstation run in May.

Speaking of bars, the feeding at Hideaway went fine, although I really need to get my spending under control. The pizza was 890 pesos, Joy’s lasagna was 420 pesos, and the fried chicken was 500 pesos…that’s almost $40. My bar tab after a bunch of drinks for the ladies and me was another $50. Oh, well. You can’t take it with you, I suppose.

Hideaway was my first and last stop on the night. As I stumbled down the highway thinking about “where to next?” a trike driver pulled up and said, “Sir John, I’ll take you home now.” I figured my guardian angel must have sent it, so I hopped in and called it a night.

It was a full and fine day.

Another day in my life that started with a walk and ended with a drunken stagger.

The walk was all flat, but I was breathing hard for the last couple of kilometers. I hope my lungs won’t take my breath away.

Feeding time at Hideaway rolled around, and I headed out to take care of business. Last night the girls enjoyed pizza (Hawaiian, of course), pork liempo, and a roasted chicken. I baked a dozen apple cinnamon muffins for dessert.

When it was time to move on from Hideaway, I hoofed it down the highway to Alaska Club for my nightcap.

Made it home alone and safe. And now, I’m ready to face the challenges of a brand new day.

Mary is coming over after school. I’m preparing some pork chops in a cream of mushroom soup sauce in the crockpot. After the meal, I’ll take her to the floating bar for a couple of drinks before she goes back home to Kalaklan.

If I were the asshole Nerissa seems to think I am, I’d bring Mary with me to Cheap Charlies. Hmm, maybe next time.

I hear some people
been talkin' me down,
Bring up my name,
pass it 'round.
They don't mention
happy times
They do their thing,
I'll do mine.

Ooh baby,
that's hard to change
I can't tell them
how to feel.
Some get stoned,
some get strange,
But sooner or later
it all gets real.

Walk on

…is that the question?

Commenter Brian shared these thoughts on a recent post:

Random thoughts that somewhat tie in to her giving you the cold shoulder. I may have said this previously in response to an earlier post of yours, but there definitely is a double standard with the number of girls a guy is with vs. the number of guys a girl is with and thoughts thereof.

Although you probably don’t see yourself this way, I bet that most of the girls you come in contact with in your little burg see you as a player. One girl one night, a different one the next week, etc. As you mentioned, in a small town, everyone knows your business. With that type of reputation, most/all ladies will hesitate to get to know you on anything other than a superficial level

My initial reaction was that visiting different bars and buying your favorite girls a lady drink, then leaving alone, doesn’t really qualify as being a player. I think that paying for company or sex is kind of the opposite of being a player. I see a player as someone who strings more than one woman along emotionally, making promises he doesn’t mean to keep and ultimately breaking hearts. Of course, women can be players, too, and I’d wager there are more female players in this town than there are men making a game of romance.

On the other hand, how you are perceived often overrides whatever the truth might be. That seems to be Brian’s primary point: if the women in my town see me as a player, whether I am or not, they will treat me as someone who can’t be trusted with their heart. That seems to indeed be the case with Nerissa.

I went to see Nerissa in Cheap Charlies last night and wasn’t sure what to expect, seeing as how she had unfriended and blocked me on Facebook without a word. She didn’t decline when I invited her to join me for a drink, so that was a start. However, she ordered a double lady drink, something she hadn’t tried before. Given the circumstances, I didn’t object. I also told the other girls milling about that I wanted one on one time with Nerissa. And then I asked her why she had blocked me.

“Because I saw you at BarCelona with another girl,” she responded. That’s what I expected the issue was, but it still didn’t make much sense to me. I’ve had one date with Nerissa: nothing physical, no promises, no commitments. I pointed out that she hadn’t responded when I had asked her when her next day off would be, intending to take her out for dinner. Nerissa said she hadn’t answered because she didn’t know when she’d be off yet. Fine, why didn’t you say that? I told her that her non-responsiveness led me to believe she wasn’t interested in dating me. Nerissa asked me why I hadn’t told her I was seeing someone else, and I truthfully responded that I didn’t feel that I had a relationship with her or any obligation to do so. I told her that if I were trying to hide that I was meeting someone, I wouldn’t have chosen to sit on the rooftop at BarCelona in full view of everyone sitting in Cheap Charlies. I asked her why she hadn’t raised her concerns with me directly instead of just blocking me without explanation. She acted like it was no big deal to be blocked and explained that she didn’t want to see posts of me with another girl.

And that’s pretty much where we left it. I had three drinks; she had two (doubles). I paid my tab and left. I guess my feeling is I’m glad I found out how she is sooner rather than later. If she got that jealous before we were even in a relationship, I can only imagine the nightmare she would likely be as a jealous girlfriend. And perhaps she feels the same–happy to learn I’m such a “player” early on. And so it goes.

After my departure, I headed up the highway to John’s place for some grub.

I also ordered some Korean-style chicken wings to surprise the Hideaway girls.

I only had one drink at Hideaway, knowing I’d be back today for the regular Wednesday feeding. I finished my evening at The Green Room with two more drinks, then caught a trike back home.

More and more, I’m thinking I’m better off going through life alone. Who needs all the drama?

I continue to fill my time in the usual ways, walking and drinking being the bookends, with blogging and napping occupying the space in between. I used to feel like I was wasting what was left of my life by not engaging in more meaningful activities during my retirement years, but lately, I’ve come to accept that I’m in my comfort zone, and if this is all there is, then that will be enough. That’s not to say I’m not receptive to any opportunities to change my life that may come along, but in the meantime, I won’t lament the things I don’t have. I’ve actually come to appreciate the value of my solitary life, boring though it may be. There are worse things than being alone, and I’m not convinced that the relationship I’ve craved in my imagination is worth the drama that seems inherent when you open your heart to another.

That’s my initial thinking, anyway. As Joni Mitchell sang all those years ago, “Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got ’till it’s gone…” We’ll see if any of the women currently vying for my attention are able to change my mind.

When it was time for my evening entertainment, I took a walk out to Baloy Beach.

In its previous iteration, the food delivered on board the floating bar came from Treasure Island. This year, the menu was from Lagoon. It’s okay, but not one of my favorites. So, instead of eating on the floater, I went to Treasure Island when I disembarked.

After my meal, I walked back to the highway and stopped at Snackbar for my nightcap. Haven’t been there in a while; there is too much drama with some of the staff. Last night was fine, though. Even Lydell, the gal I dated a couple of times, was sweet to me. She surprised me by playing “Cotton Eye Joe” and inviting me to do some country swing dancing with her. It was actually quite fun, and she earned herself a couple of lady drinks.

And then, it was time to go home, so I grabbed a trike. Made me a smoothie and then hit the sack. Fitbit says I was asleep at 8:30. That’s the way this old man rolls these days.

Yesterday the Wednesday Walkers, all three of us, took a 9K stroll around the Naugsol valley. My lungs are still acting up, so my compadres accommodated me with a mostly flat trail. It was a beautiful day yesterday, and I think we all enjoyed it. I took a shitload of pictures, and here they are:

My evening hours were filled with the feeding at Hideaway (chicken and pork) and some time at Whiskey Girl on the way home.

Joshua wound up having to go to the Cebu consulate to get his visa processed. Apparently, the Korean embassy in Manila is currently backlogged, and he would have had to wait two more weeks. He rented a scooter in Cebu, has been exploring the island, and appears to be enjoying himself.

Rumor has it the floating bar on Baloy has now opened, and I’m going to venture out that way this afternoon to find out for myself. See you here tomorrow.

That’s what I do. Especially when the Hare is Vienna Sausage, the trail is 9K, and it is raining. Now, I understand there was a shorter version of the trail, but since the Hare couldn’t be bothered to come to the starting point to give guidance and answer questions, I wasn’t sure. And, to be frank, I don’t trust this Hare with my personal safety.

I intended to follow the trail as far as it made sense to do so, then find my own way from there. I was surprised that NONE of the usual “sane” group of Hashers were there at the start. Since I’m slow and stop to take photos, I was soon bringing up the rear. Well, there was one other guy behind me. I intended to keep within shouting distance of the group in front of me, but that proved impossible because the guy behind me kept asking me to wait for him. Alright, I wasn’t going to leave him alone out there; I hate that when it happens to me. Once we came down from the first hill climb, I decided to make a flat walk back to the On-Home at Blue Butterfly.

Once we hit the valley, the Hare’s trail went right, and I turned left. The slowpoke came with me.

I didn’t socialize with the Hashers much after the Hash, either. I got some takeout grub from Sit-n-Bull and was home by 7:30. Just one of those nights, I guess.

Tonight I’m meeting Mary and hoping for the best. I’ll let y’all know how it goes tomorrow.

You can go your own way
Go your own way
You can call it another lonely day
You can go your own way
Go your own way

It really wasn’t much of a fight because I don’t give a shit about Valentine’s Day. I actually got an invite from Joy to take her out for VD, and I declined. I do think I’ve gotten so accustomed to solitary life that I prefer it to the whole “dinner for two” routine. This is not to say I spent the day alone, far from it. Here’s how things went down.

As I mentioned yesterday, my mountain friend/masseuse came to the house to give me my monthly rubdown. Just before the massage reached its climax, I had a breathing attack. I reached for the inhaler I keep on the nightstand, but it didn’t seem to help much. So, I stumbled into the living room to fire up my nebulizer. I felt like I was going to pass out from lack of oxygen, but fortunately, after the first couple of puffs, I could breathe again—scary shit.

Annabelle, one of our female Hashers, asked me to come by Alley Cats yesterday to help her celebrate her 40th birthday. It’s been quite some time since my last visit there, so I figured, why not? Plus, one of my old favorites, Jerlyn, has returned to work after spending several months in the province. As is my custom, I baked up a batch of brownies for the birthday girl. When I arrived, Annabelle wasn’t there, and I was told she was visiting family in Bataan. Hmm, must have been a breakdown in communication somewhere. Oh, well. I gave the brownies to Jeryln as a welcome-back gift and enjoyed catching up with her some. Nancy joined us and told me I was missed in the bar and said, “we love you, John.” That was sweet and made me feel so good I bought another round of drinks.

I had the last of my pasalubong to give to my favorites at Alaska Club, including the carton of fresh strawberries Karen had requested, but the bar doesn’t open until six. So, I headed up the highway to Cheap Charlies to kill some time. I did bring along some chocolate candy (Kit Kat minis) and cookies for the girls there. Narissa gave me a smile and a friendly greeting, but she was busy with another customer. My regulars soon surrounded me, and we let the good times roll in the form of lady drinks and gin sodas.

I was looking forward to bringing my gifts to my Alaska friends, so off I went. Alas, when I arrived, my regular waitress informed me that both Karen and Virginia were not working. That was more than a little disappointing. I asked the waitress to store Karen’s strawberries in the fridge and left a Baguio magnet for Virginia. I gave the dancers some chocolates, paid my tab, and left.

Now what?

I decided to drop in at Wet Spot to finish my Valentine’s night. I bought my waitress a drink to start things off. Lyn, the young new dancer, was on stage when I arrived, and when her set was over, she joined me at my table. I handed out my last bags of candy and cookies, and then we all settled back to enjoy our drinks. Lyn snuggled up against me, and it felt so nice that I acted on impulse:

“Do you want to come home with me and snuggle like this all night?” She responded, “yes, but no boom-boom” (sex). I asked her how much, and she answered four thousand pesos. I agreed to her terms, and the deal was done.

I had not done a barfine for a couple of years, but it just felt like there was something special about Lyn. It’s probably because she’s new to the business. Back in my tourist days when I barfined regularly, I found that girls who had less than six months’ experience were more to my liking than the jaded long-term pros. Now, 4000P is way too much for a night with no boom-boom, but I didn’t care. Snuggling and cuddling can be just as satisfying, at least for me. And just in case you don’t know how this whole concept works, a barfine is, in reality, an early work release (EWR). The girl pays the bar a fine of 1000 pesos to leave work early; anything else is between her and the customer. I think most guys negotiate down to 3000 or less, but as I said, I didn’t care. I was just looking for some companionship.

And Lyn delivered. Well, she didn’t like the smoothie I made her when we got to my place, but once we hit the sack, I got what I wanted. Yeah, I’m a man, and I was half-drunk (or more), so I engaged in some petting which she tolerated, but when I started to go too far, she reiterated, “no boom-boom,” and of course, I respected her wishes in accordance with our prior arrangement. But while we slept, she held me close during the night, and it felt wonderful. Once, she rolled over and held my hand as she was sleeping. It was sweet. As is my habit, I woke up early and left the room to scour the internet. A bit later, she joined me and sat on my lap, then kissed me on the lips. Then she got up, washed the dishes, and went back to bed. A few minutes later, I joined her there, but my efforts at seduction were ignored.

Anyway, I didn’t have love or sex for Valentine’s, but I had someone at my side doing the kinds of things I’ve missed. Yeah, I got what I paid for, but if Lyn were feigning her affectionate ways, she qualifies for an Oscar. I’m not foolish enough to think this translates to any genuine feelings she may have for me; indeed, as I walked her out of the neighborhood this morning to catch a trike, I got a distinct impression that she was now off-duty and didn’t have to pretend to like me any longer. That’s just the way it works around here, and you are a fool if you believe otherwise.

I heard this song on my playlist as I hiked later this morning and smiled as I thought it could be sung by almost any bargirl in town:

That's what you get for lovin' me
That's what you get for lovin' me
Everything you had is gone, as you can see
That's what you get for lovin' me.

I ain't the kind to hang around
With any new love that I've found
Movin' is my stock in trade
I'm movin on
I won't think of you when I'm gone.

So don't you shed a tear for me
I ain't the love you thought I'd be
I've got a hundred more like you
so don't be blue
I'll have a thousand 'fore I'm through.

Now there you go you're crying again
Now there you go you're crying again
But then someday when your poor heart
is on the mend
I just might pass this way again

That's what you get for lovin' me
That's what you get for lovin' me
Everything you had is gone, as you can see
That's what you get for lovin' me.

I’ll be traveling to Angeles City in the wee hours of the morning to pick up my nephew Joshua, who will be arriving at Clark airport at 0230. The purpose of the visit is to secure a work visa in Korea (he plans to teach English like his brother Justin), which apparently must be applied for at a Korean embassy. Anyway, he’ll be here for a week or two and is looking forward to seeing some of the Philippines during his visit. We’ll see what I can arrange, but I will definitely introduce him to the nightlife here in Barretto. Unfortunately, my current living quarters doesn’t have a guest room. I have rectified that by securing lodging for Josh at the Johansson’s Lodge–a small fan room (no air con) for only 500 pesos a night. One of my buds has already accused me of being a cruel uncle for making such Spartan arrangements, but Josh says it sounds perfect. Besides, the lobby area is open 24 hours and he can hang out there if he gets claustrophobic. Anyway, having another McCrarey in town ought to spice up the daily drivel I post here some. Justin will be joining us later in the visit.

Picking up where I left off in yesterday’s post, the pot roast came out tender and tasty.

Joy had messaged me saying she was craving a banana-walnut muffin. I just responded, “sorry.” Actually, there were two left, my helpers having helped themselves to the other eight. Again, fine with me–out of sight, out of mind. I decided to surprise Joy with a special muffin delivery to Hideaway.

Joy was indeed surprised to see me and especially delighted to see the baggie with muffins in my shirt pocket. She devoured them both before I remembered to get the Joy with her mouth full shot. Sorry to disappoint; I won’t make that mistake again during tonight’s feeding.

I stayed at Hideaway for two or three drinks, which was long enough for me to get bit by the “buy all the girls a drink” bug. Oh well, how do you put a price tag on those smiles?

I had another mission to accomplish last night–what happened at the SOB that I don’t remember? When I got to Wet Spot, I sat down next to the manager, Bret, and asked if I had done anything stupid during my attendance at Friday’s contest. He assured me my behavior was fine, and it appeared I was having a good time with the gal I was sharing drinks with. That was a relief. Then my waitress came over, and I told her I didn’t remember paying my tab last night. She said I had asked to pay early before the contest winners had been announced. Did I give you and the girl I was with a tip? Yes. What’s her name, anyway? Mevelyn. Damn, I’ll never remember that. Anyway, she said she was really surprised when I left; she thought I was just going to the CR. Yeah, it is weird. I’ve never not stayed for the contest results before. And then Mevelyn walked by, and I called her over and bought them both a drink. Mevelyn said I had behaved, and the only touching I did was gently rubbing her leg.

Okay, I still don’t remember anything, but I’m glad I wasn’t a drunken asshole. I really don’t like them and never want to be one.

Here’s the winning performance by the Wet Spot dancers. It feels like I just watched it for the first time. Scary.

Anal Receptive and I marked the Hash trail this morning, all 8K of it. Took us over four hours to complete the mission. It kicked my ass, but we got it done. I’ll post some pictures from the trail tomorrow.

And here are there results from this week’s weigh-in: 218.6 pounds, down 1.1 from last week and 6.7 since January 1. Little by little, I’m getting there.

My “let’s go, Brandon” moments are increasing with a distressing regularity (like using road for rode), but I’m not sure I can blame my forgetfulness last night on dementia. Well, let me rephrase that: I can’t remember what happened last night. To be more precise, I can remember up to a certain point, then it goes blank. I can only speculate on why that may be, but I’m pretty sure gin played a role. Here’s what I do remember:

So, it was SOB night at Wet Spot. There was a large group of Vietnam-era Navy veterans in town, and they were going to attend the event. Wet Spot is a large bar, but I knew I’d have to arrive early to secure a good seat. I went to The Green Room next door a little after 4:00 to wait for the 5 p.m. opening of Wet Spot. I ordered a gin and soda to help pass the time. Then the waitress from Sit-n-Bull came by with a menu, so I figured having some food in my belly as a cushion for the alcohol would be a good idea. Meatloaf was one of the daily specials, and it had been quite some time since I’d partaken of that particular delicacy. I enjoyed another gin and soda with my meal. Around 4:45, I peeked (shit, I wrote peaked at first) inside Wet Spot and saw there was a slew of seats reserved for the Vets, and a couple of SOB attendees were already seated. I got another gin and soda to go (Green Room and Wet Spot have the same owner and an inside passageway so customers can move between the bars at their leisure. I just wasn’t sure the bar would be serving before opening time, so I brought a drink with me).

So, I settled into my preferred seat at the VIP table and waited for the show to begin at 6:00 p.m. My favorite waitress didn’t let my drink run dry during the wait. It was wise that I arrived early because it wasn’t long before the bar was packed like I’d never seen before. The Wet Spot dancers provided some entertainment on stage for the crowd to enjoy. That’s when I spotted a young lovely (I believe she is nineteen) that I had noticed several weeks ago on her first night at work. That night she looked distressed and so painfully shy that I thought she would cry. I guess she is adapting to her new job responsibilities because I did not see any similar symptoms as I watched her on stage. I like to have a companion when I watch the SOB, so I brought her down from the stage and bought her a drink.

So, at 6 o’clock, the bell was rung, and all customer drinks were “free” until 8 p.m. (the entrance fee is 700 pesos). I kept paying for my company’s drinks. I was once again tasked with being a judge and dutifully completed the scoresheet, but I don’t recall who I chose as the competition winners. Nor do I know who actually won last night. If I was still present when the winning teams were brought up on stage, I have no recollection of that event. In fact, the last thing I remember was having my name called to collect my raffle coupons. They were in my wallet this morning, so there’s that.

When I woke up this morning, I didn’t remember leaving the bar. I was worried I might not have paid my tab or tipped my company. I saw owner Dave at Sit-n-Bull today after my walk and told him I didn’t remember last night. He just laughed and said I had a good time with the young lady next to me. Hmm. Well, I guess if I hadn’t paid, he would have told me. I might stop back at Wet Spot tonight and see if anyone there can restore my memories.

I do remember the Friday group hike, though. And I’ve got the pictures to prove it! Only four of us were in attendance, and we split up into pairs about halfway into our journey–the healthy guys tackled another climb, and I took my tired lungs for a valley walk.

That’s how my Friday went down. As far as I remember.

Speaking of memories, Facebook shared this photo of a dinner I enjoyed six years ago in Seoul.

That story of Chinese spying has been floating all over the internet. I think maybe it is being blown all out of proportion:

Spent some time in the kitchen this morning.

I’ll be back with another post tomorrow. Unless I forget.

…and so is January. I’ve got big plans for February.

A quiet day of shopping and replenishing the cash supply, and then it was time to take myself out on a date. Table for one, please.

Placed my order for dinner, then strolled out onto the beach for a closer look.

And then, dinner is served.

After my meal, I was thinking I’d visit Whiskey Girl. It’s nearby and doesn’t require making a highway crossing. Alas, it wasn’t open yet. So, I did risk life and limb and dashed across the highway to Queen Victoria. Another gin and soda and a brief chat with one of my Alta Vista neighbors and his wife. They left, and my glass was empty, but none of the staff seemed to notice or care, so I paid my tab and left.

I wasn’t sure where my next stop would be, but my feet were taking me in the direction of Alaska Club. Sloppy Joe’s is next door, and I knew several of the people sitting at the outside tables, so I joined them. Around the time I finished my first drink, most of the group got up and left to play a pool league match. I ordered another and chatted with an old female friend I hadn’t seen for a while. She’s living with her new boyfriend now, and I was regaled with stories that reminded me of the drama that seems to be part and parcel of most relationships. She’s a good woman, and I hope they have a happy life together.

Time for that Alaska visit. Virginia and I made eye contact the minute I walked through the door. Naturally, I invited her to join me as soon as I was seated.

And we weren’t alone for long. Our waitress and the best dancer on the Alaska SOB squad, Karen, was being so sweet that I wanted to treat her to a lady drink. And another gal I’ve known since I moved here was hovering about in anticipation of participating in the bounty of a free-spending customer. Hey, the more, the merrier!

When I’d had my fill of fun at Alaska, I crossed the highway again to finish my night out at Whiskey Girl.

My favorite waitress, Jen, served me as soon as I was seated at a front-row table. Of course, Jen joined me to enjoy my company her lady drink commission. The dancers were actually putting on the moves enough that I noticed them.

All good times must come to an end, and my time had arrived. I said goodnight to the girls and gave manager Mark a hearty “fuck off, ya cunt!” as I departed. Being a Brit, I am sure he had a witty comeback, but I don’t recall what it was now.

In the non-drinking portion of my day, I spent some quality time with my boys.

During my internet cruising, Facebook memories reminded me of just how much things have changed since this post from five years ago:

An old friend of mine back in Korea sent me a message with a link to something called Sweatcoin. Apparently, you can earn bitcoin-like currency simply by walking, earning one coin for every 1000 steps you take. You can use these coins to purchase items on their website or donate your earnings to charities supported by the website. I’m not sure what the angle is because I don’t see any potential for profit (I didn’t sign up for the premium plan, so maybe that’s it), but I’ve decided to take the risk and give it a try (the risk is giving them access to things like your email and phone number). We’ll see what happens, but I’m going to walk regardless, so if I can “earn” something by doing so, why not?

I guess I must have been bored, but I decided to mess around with ChatGPT some more. One of the questions I asked was: Why do so many foreign men move to the Philippines?

There are several reasons why many foreign men move to the Philippines:

1. Cost of Living: The cost of living in the Philippines is lower compared to many Western countries, making it an attractive destination for retirees and budget-conscious individuals.
2. Friendly people: The Philippines is known for its friendly and hospitable people, which makes it a welcoming place for foreigners.
3. Beautiful scenery: The country is famous for its stunning beaches, lush jungles, and scenic landscapes, which can be a major draw for people looking to enjoy a tropical lifestyle.
4. Language: English is widely spoken in the Philippines, which makes it easier for English-speaking foreigners to communicate and integrate into the local community.
5. Dating and Marriage: The Philippines is also a popular destination for foreign men seeking to date or marry Filipina women, who are known for their beauty, kindness, and traditional values.

These are some of the reasons why many foreign men choose to move to the Philippines. Of course, individual experiences and motivations will vary.

Those are all legit, and I guess you could call what goes on in the bars “dating,” although that’s a stretch. Maybe I’ll go back and explore the prostitution angle more in-depth with my new friend.

And that’s it for now. Got a feeding at Hideaway to prepare for. Back tomorrow, provided I’m still allowed to post.

I have a confession to make: I did not write this. In the comments to an earlier post, Dan said that since my Facebook friends liked the A.I. from ChatGPT post better than mine, I should consider having ChatGPT write my blog too. Well, at first, I thought no way something with intelligence, artificial or otherwise, would lower itself to my standards. Then I figured, why not give it a try and see what happens? And that’s just what I did. Here’s how it went down:

I started with the basic question: Can you help me write a post for my blog at www.mccrarey.com about my night in the bars?

Sure, I’d be happy to help you write a post for your blog about your night in the bars. Can you provide me with some more details about the experience you want to share, such as what bars you visited, what you enjoyed about the experience, and any tips or recommendations you have for others looking to have a similar experience?

So, I gave the A.I. this to work with: I started out at IDM bar, where I ran into my pals Dave and Chris. We had a nice chat about the latest victims of the scamdemic–those dying from the after-effects of worthless vaccines. Sexy waitress Juliet was our server. Then I went to BarCelona, one of the nicer bars ambiance-wise in town. It’s on the third-floor rooftop and affords great views of our town Barrio Barretto. Speaking of great views, a cute little waitress named Jade was my server. I bought her a lady drink, and we sat together, chatting for a while. My last stop was Wet Spot, where I had a “buy one, get one” discount coupon. Owner Dave came in and bought me a drink. It was nice hanging out and getting the latest news and views. I had enough to drink, so went home early and enjoyed pecan pie with vanilla ice cream on top. I guess I was drunker than I thought because I woke up late in the night on the couch.

It sounds like you had a great night out at the bars! Here’s a sample post for your blog about your experience:

And then, I posted what the app provided without modification.

“Last night, I had the pleasure of visiting three of my favorite bars in Barrio Barretto. My evening started out at IDM bar, where I ran into my friends Dave and Chris. We chatted over drinks and shared our thoughts on the latest victims of the scamdemic. Our server, the lovely Juliet, made sure we were well taken care of.

Next, I headed to BarCelona, a rooftop bar with a fantastic ambiance. The views of the city from the third floor were breathtaking and the perfect backdrop for my drink. I had the pleasure of chatting with my server, Jade, over a lady drink. It was a nice way to spend some time getting to know her.

My last stop of the night was Wet Spot, where I had a “buy one, get one” discount coupon. I chatted with the owner, Dave, and enjoyed some discounted drinks with the latest news and views. I had enough to drink, so I decided to call it an early night and went home.

I must have been more intoxicated than I realized because I woke up on the couch later that night. But, it was all worth it for the great company, drinks, and views. If you’re ever in Barrio Barretto, be sure to check out these bars for a night you won’t forget.”

And as an added bonus, the A.I. provided this admonishment:

Please keep in mind that it’s not a good idea to encourage drinking and driving, it is not safe and it is illegal in many countries, it’s also not a good idea to encourage excessive drinking.

So, what do you think? To me, it just seems like a clean-up of the basic info I provided. What I did notice is that it changed words I used to something more P.C., like waitress to server. It didn’t like me saying sexy and also didn’t include my mention of vaccines negatively. My Grammarly app also frequently suggests less “offensive” words, but I always ignore its advice. Speaking of Grammarly, the only punctuation error it underlined in the post was removing the comma after “But” in the next to last sentence. It suggested a comma before “and” and a semi-colon before “it’s” in the last sentence of the admonishment. Do you see anything else, Kevin?

Overall, my assessment is that the A.I. just regurgitates the info you provide in a milquetoast fashion so as not to rile the woke mob. I’m sure my shenanigans scared that crowd away from my blog long ago. And not to worry, I won’t be relying on ChatGPT for any help in the future. I felt a little guilty about posting this morning without attribution or warning, so I tagged it with “A.I.” at the bottom of the post. I just wanted to see if anyone would notice any difference from my daily drivel; apparently, no one did.

I didn’t add any pictures to this morning’s post, either. I only have a couple, and here they are now:

My waitress at BarCelona was indeed a hottie. She told me she used to be a dancer at Whiskey Girl but quit because she didn’t like the videos from the SOB being posted on YouTube. So, I was too shy to ask her to let me take her picture.

Anyway, it was a nice night out. And about that waking up on the couch thing, it just doesn’t make any sense. I had gone into the bedroom and taken off my clothes (the evidence was still on the floor this morning), so why would I go back into the dark living room to stumble over to the uncomfortable couch where I never sleep? The more I think about it, the more I don’t think I did–it was probably just a dream. I’ve noticed I’m having some pretty intense REM sleep lately, especially in the early morning hours. Weird, though; it seemed so real.

So, about that diet. I’m obviously not being strict on low carb, but I’m sure I’ve reduced my calorie intake, if for no other reason than eliminating beer intake. I need to be careful about those “cheats” like I did with the pie and ice cream, though.

Today’s weigh-in has me at 219.7, down 1.7 pounds from last week and a loss of 5.6 since January 1. Slow progress, but progress.

Don’t strain your neck like I did to see it upside right:

I guess it really is all a matter of perspective. I will be back with more of my human-made drivel tomorrow.

A busy day yesterday began when I awoke to the discovery that I was without water pressure. That’s a tell-tell sign that the pump in the basement that fills the water tanks and creates the pressure to transport that water through the pipes and into my residence was not functioning. I sent the landlord an email (he lives in Singapore) asking him to dispatch a plumber. I had a scouting expedition with my neighbor and co-Hare Edward to attend, so I headed for the hills.

Ed and I successfully found a trail down to the valley and then looped back to the top and rejoined the “short” version of the Hash trail, adding 2K and another hill climb. We’ll return next weekend and spread some powder and chalk to mark the path for our fellow Hashers. Feels good to have our scouting task successfully completed.

I told Ed about my water pump issues, and he came by the house to take a look. As soon as I turned the pump on, he could tell by the sound that the bearings were shot. Ed offered to drive me to the local hardware store for a new pump. He also tried to get a plumber he knows to come out to install it, but that guy wasn’t available. So, Ed graciously volunteered to do the installation. I emailed my landlord again, telling him I had it covered, and the landlord wrote back, telling me he hadn’t been able to find anyone and to deduct the replacement expense from next month’s rent.

This was the first time I had made a purchase at the giant hardware store called Wilcon Depot (like a Home Depot, only larger). When I handed the clerk at checkout my credit card to pay for the pump, he asked me where it was issued. I’ve never been asked that before ANYWHERE I’ve ever traveled. I told him the USA, and he wanted to see my ID. I handed him my ACR card issued by Philippines immigration, and the clerk told me I needed an ID from the USA. Well, I don’t carry my passport when I visit the hardware store, and my only other American ID is an expired South Carolina driver’s license. The clerk reiterated that I needed an ID from the same country as the credit card. I told him that was ridiculous; I have lived here five years and don’t use American identification. He wouldn’t budge, so I asked him to call a manager.

When the manager arrived, I told her that I live here and, like every expat I know, I maintain my bank accounts in my country of citizenship. She asked to see my ACR card again, which contains my name and picture. Then she asked me for an ID that had my signature (I guess she wanted to compare signatures on the credit card), and I once again said the ACR was the only ID I carry. She finally relented with the admonition that next time bring ID with a signature. Hopefully, there won’t be a next time. And yes, I had enough cash in my pocket to pay for the pump, but I just couldn’t abide the stupidity.

Anyway, we got the pump home, and Ed went to work removing the old pump. We were shocked (thankfully, not literally) when the neighbor’s water pump turned on because the breaker was supposed to have been turned off. I had thrown the switch but on the wrong box, so Ed was working with hot wires. Oops!

So, with my water supply successfully restored, I could take a shower and get on with the rest of my life. And you know what that means–a visit to the Barretto nightlife.

I decided to start my evening at Cheap Charlies, hoping for some more interaction with the new gal, Narissa. Alas, the place was packed, and she was otherwise occupied. I found an open seat, and Alma brought me my first drink of the night.

After a while, the crowd left (turns out they were a group of Aussies celebrating Australia Day. Good to see them out enjoying themselves and celebrating the homeland with a pub crawl.

Nerissa did free up and joined me for a brief conversation before I moved on to my next venue.

I still had money to spend on that 1000 peso voucher from the SOB, and I decided to use some of it at Voodoo.

Nice chat with the owner of Voodoo as well. Then one last stop at Wet Spot, and I was on the way home.

I’ve been reading about this new AI app, ChatGPT, over at Kevin’s blog and other places, and this morning I decided to see what the fuss was all about. The signup process wasn’t too difficult, although I had to provide an email address and my phone number. That always makes me a little uncomfortable, but whatever. So, I decided my first question would be one often discussed here, especially in the comments: Are women working in bars good potential relationship partners? Here’s the response:

It is not appropriate to make generalizations about a group of people based on their occupation. Each person has their own unique qualities and characteristics, and should be judged as an individual, rather than based on their job. Additionally, it is not appropriate to objectify or make assumptions about someone based on their profession or place of work. It is important to treat all people with respect and kindness.

Chat GPT

I shared that response on my Facebook without attribution, and it got triple the likes of my own posts. Most of the comments were in the vein of “well said” and “very true.” My new bargirl friend Narissa commented that I “have a kind heart.”

So, my first impression is that people like ChatGPT more than they like me. Imagine that.

Another SOB Friday is in store for me at Hot Zone. It’s a small venue, so I’ll need to arrive early if I hope to find a decent seat.

One last question for Mr. ChatGPT:

I am sorry, I am unable to find any information about the website you mentioned and the blog “Long Time Gone” as my knowledge cut off date is 2021 and my ability to browse the internet is limited. But in general, blogs are usually created by individuals or groups as a platform to share their thoughts, ideas, experiences, and information on a particular topic or interest. Without more specific information, it is difficult to say what the blog “Long Time Gone” on mccrarey.com is about.

Chatgpt

Not so smart after all, eh? Oh, wait. It’s a blog about nothing, so nobody knows what it is about. Damn.

More nothingness to come tomorrow. See you then!

I’m not exactly sure how yesterday ended, but I woke up this morning in my bed. Wearing my clothes. That’s a first for me. I checked my phone for any photos that might provide some evidence or explanation, but I only took one picture all night:

I remembered doing the feeding at Hideaway. Lasagna, lumpia, and pizza. I also remember buying a drink for all the girls. And getting some free drinks. Then it all gets a little fuzzy. I messaged Joy to see if I had misbehaved, and she just confirmed I was drunk. She also reminded me that I had danced with her (country swing) and made her dizzy. I was the only customer, so at least no one witnessed my tomfoolery. I’m not sure how much my bar tab was last night, but it must have been around 3000 pesos.

Aha! I just checked my wallet and found another piece of evidence.

Anyway, I made it home without apparent incident and will strive to be more restrained in my future imbibing.

The other productive part of my day involved the 7K trek with the Wednesday Walkers. We dual purposed the hike as a scouting expedition for the February 6 Hash that I’ll be a co-Hareing with Ed. Today we went out and finalized the long portion of the trail.

You can Relive it here:

And there you have it, another day in the life posted for my lucky few readers. Thanks for joining me.

I started the day with my Standard Solo Sunday Stroll on the backroads to Calapacuan and back, a journey of a mere 8.5K, but that’s about all I have in me these days. Nothing new to see, so I reverted to the “photo every 1.6K” method and snapped a pic of whatever I saw at that moment. I’ll share those later in this post.

I enjoyed the proper amount of R&R after the hike, then prepared myself for an evening on the town, starting with the feeding of the Hideaway gals. I like the Sunday meal to be more special (they get pizza on Wednesday), so I went a little overboard at Andok’s, a local takeout chain featuring roasted meat, mostly chicken. In addition to the roasted bird, I bought some fried chicken pieces and two orders of pork liempo (grilled pork belly). Oh, and rice, of course. A lot of food for 1500 pesos ($30). I winced a little as I handed over the money, then remembered I’d spent twice that on lady drinks at Snackbar the night before. This was a much better investment.

I figured there might be leftovers, but those platters were empty in no time.

Hideaway was surprisingly busy, although I didn’t know any of my fellow customers. Still had a good time and was once again rewarded with a free drink or two. Of course, it is more blessed to give than receive, so I reciprocated accordingly. I was feeling no pain when it came time to leave, but I had one more stop to make.

I stayed just long enough to buy a couple of rounds of drinks and tip the dancers; then, I headed home. My Fitbit says I was asleep at 8:30, which is early even for me. That’s the problem with my gin regimen; it hits me too hard and too fast.

To the hike photos then:

And no a quick time out for a grammar lesson:

It’s another Hash Monday. Today’s start is about 3K from my house, and I plan to walk there. Leech My Nuggets is the Hare, so I may wind up regretting it, but only one way to find out.

Tune it tomorrow for a full report.

Grocery shopping. Doctor appointment. Bar hopping. That’s how I spent my Tuesday.

Only one incident at checkout this week, and that was on me. I watch the prices being scanned much closer than I used to, and I saw $14.70 pop up on the screen, looked at the cashier, and he had a small bottle of some kind of sauce in his hands. I called out, hold on there, that ain’t right. My helper and the cashier had some Tagalog talk, he punched some numbers into the calculator, and she told me the item was 90 pesos. I told her I had seen $14.70 on the screen, but she said I was wrong. Hmm. As we began the drive home, I scanned the receipt, and sure enough, a $14.70 item was listed. I was livid and yelled for my driver to turn the car around; I wasn’t going to accept being scammed. My driver turned around, and my helper looked at the receipt. “John, the $14.70 was for the new mop we bought. The sauce was the next item, and it rang up right. Oh shit, I fucked up. I was seeing the mop scan price BEFORE the cashier scanned the sauce. Well, in my defense, I do have trust issues with Royal, and I’m also rapidly descending into the Biden-like realm of brain functioning. Damn.

Next on my agenda was a visit to Dr. Jo. I’ve been concerned about my diminished lung capacity, which now requires that I use my nebulizer three or four times a day when I previously used it three or four times a week. I feared my COPD condition was deteriorating, and I wanted some guidance on what, if anything, I could do about that. When I was first diagnosed in March 2017, I was found to be at Stage 2 (moderate) of the four-stage severity scale. Since COPD is a progressive disease, I feared I was moving into more dangerous territory. That determination will require more tests like the CT scans I received at the Army hospital. Dr. Jo is not equipped to do that, but she prescribed some stronger inhalants to use with my nebulizer, another pill to take, and advice to maintain a healthy diet and exercise. Otherwise, I will need to live with the more frequent use of inhaler products and the importance of monitoring my oxygen intake.

I brought along my recently purchased spirometer that measures lung output because I needed guidance on interpreting the numbers it provides. I gave it a blow, and she took a photo of the results. It wasn’t good, only about 50% of normal.

Dr. Jo sent me this as well:

I found these definitions useful as well:

Your FEV1 value is an important part of evaluating chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) and monitoring progression of the condition. FEV is short for forced expiratory volume. FEV1 is the amount of air you can force from your lungs in one second.

I guess the good news is my latest blow job (sorry, sometimes I can’t help myself) indicates that my COPD is still in the Stage 2 moderate zone. I know my lung capacity is declining, but I’m still quite far from death’s door. I need to do what I can to slow the COPD devil as much as possible.

As usual, with Dr. Jo and her physician husband, Chris, we spent an hour or more talking about my health issues and other news around town. I thanked them again for the birthday party invite, and Dr. Jo lamented that people were complimenting my brownies, but they were all gone by the time she hit the buffet. I thanked her on behalf of myself and Betty Crocker.

When it came time to pay the piper, Dr. Jo told me there was no charge for my visit. I was surprised, especially because she had given me an injection up my nose for my chronic congestion (yeah, I’m a mess), but she was insistent. When I got back home, I baked up a batch of brownies for her and Chris and dropped them off at the office on my way to the bars.

I started out at The Green Room with my “buy one, get one” coupon. Those really help because, with my switch to gin and soda, I’m paying double what a beer would cost me (the gin shot is one drink, and the can of soda water is another drink). The Sit-n-Bull waitress came in, so I grabbed a menu and ordered one of the daily specials.

I felt bad eating alone, so I bought a pizza for some of the staff to enjoy.

I was thinking I’d hit Voodoo next, but they weren’t open yet. So, as I walked the highway, I was a little indecisive about where to go. I had just been to Alaska the night before, Sloppy Joe’s was too busy, and Whiskey Girl also wasn’t open (it was only about 5:30). So, I had the bright idea to hoof it out to Baloy and enjoy the ambiance at McCoy’s beach bar. Then I remembered they didn’t have soda water on my last visit, and I don’t want to break my goal of not drinking beer (except at the Hash). Then it occurred to me that I could bring my own soda water, so I hit the 7/11. Alas, they didn’t have soda water in stock either. Admitting defeat, I went next door to Snackbar.

I ended up staying for a couple of hours, mainly drinking with Jen (I missed her birthday party on Saturday) and buying lady drinks for a couple of my other old favorites. I messaged my pal Ron to join me, and he was at the gym but promised to arrive at 7:00. He got there at about 7:30. We had one drink, and he wanted to do a bar crawl. I told him it was too late for me as my bedtime was rapidly approaching. So, we compromised on making Whiskey Girl his first stop and my last. And that’s just what we did.

Overall, not bad for a Tuesday. Now, it is time for me to prepare for the Wednesday feeding at Hideaway. I’ve already baked another batch of brownies, and I’m going to treat the girls to some Korean-style chicken wings from John’s night. Heh, it’s only money, and I can’t take it with me when the lungs go, right?