The day started with a Friday group hike and ended with a dance competition. Try putting those bookends on your mantle!

The hike began quite a way from our usual meeting place at 7/11 on Baloy, which is just a few minutes walk from my house. This time we started at Barretto High School on Rizal Extension. I opted to take the most direct route, which means taking a path through the hills behind Alta Vista. That also required hiking it alone, which always makes me nervous because one slip, trip, or fall can have disastrous consequences if no one is around to assist you. I was extra cautious and completed the forty-minute trek without incident. And then the real fun began.

Our group headed up a path to Kalaklan ridge but didn’t go all the way to the top. Instead, we walked a trail midway up that paralleled Rizal Extension. It had been a while since I’d gone this way, and after the initial climb, it was quite pleasant. On the way back down some algae-covered steps, Scott slipped and came down hard. At first, he thought his ankle was broken, but thankfully that proved not to be the case. We took it slow the rest of the way down to the road, and he caught a trike home from there. Again, if that had happened when he was up there alone, he would have been screwed big time.

I’ll share photos from the hike at the end of this post.

Friday means attending the SOB dance competition, and this week the venue was Alaska Club. I left home around 4:00 p.m. to grab a bite to eat and be in line when the doors opened at 5:00.

Everything went according to plan, and I was the first to sign up for the SOB, which allowed me to select a comfortable seat with a nice view. I was doing the gin and soda drinks, so I needed to pace myself. It seems like one drink every 30 minutes is about right.

When things kicked off, the bar was packed. I guess we have a lot of tourists in town this week because several were doing the “two-week millionaire” routine. One guy was throwing cash on stage during the performance, which seemed a little rude to me. I mean, it’s fine when the girls are dancing for customers, but not so much during a competition. In my opinion, at least.

Another customer was throwing buckets of balls. I think I’ve mentioned this before. Some bars (including Alaska) have a small bucket of balls on the table. You can toss them to the girls for a 300 peso charge. The girls then scramble around, trying to pick up as many of the balls as possible. I understand they get 5 pesos for each ball they recover. I’ve never counted the number of balls in the bucket, but the bar obviously makes money on the toss as well. Anyhow, this guy kept throwing the buckets, seven or eight of them at least, so that adds up to a fair amount of money. I have just rarely seen the local expats engage in free spending like that.

That’s not to say that the expat community are all cheapskates, but most of us are more discreet in our giving. For example, I slipped each of the Alaska dancers (the ones not competing) a 50 peso note. Probably a better deal for them than scrambling around on the floor for a fuckin’ ping pong ball.

By the time things wrapped up at 8:00 p.m. (Alaska took first), I was feeling no pain. That didn’t stop me from having a final drink at Queen Victoria before grabbing a trike for home.

That covers the alcoholic portion of my life; let’s do the walkaholic part now:

And that’s the way the day went. Scott says he has some pain and swelling in the ankle, but it looks like nothing time won’t heal.

And now, it is time to shower up and discover what Saturday night has planned for me.

…sometimes you’re the bug.

I had a 15% discount coupon for Sit-n-Bull due to expire soon, so I decided to splurge a bit on the Wednesday feeding at Hideaway. Lasagna for Joy, tacos, chicken wings, chicken fingers, and lumpia for the rest of the crew. Even with the discount, it came to over 1600 pesos ($30). Still, I often spend that much on myself during a night out, so I’ll revel in the feeling good from seeing those smiling faces.

I stayed at Hideaway a little longer than usual and played Joy in pool again. This time I won! That’s surprising because she is a good shot. I still had four balls on the table when Joy missed the winning shot at the 8-ball, then I ran the table for the victory. As they say, it is better to be lucky than good.

Walking up the highway after Hideaway, I decided to pay a rare visit to Blue Butterfly for my nightcap before heading home. I was surprised to be warmly greeted by Tanya, who used to come to the Hash occasionally. Naturally, I invited her to join me for a drink at my table. Another waitress approached and greeted me by name. She was vaguely familiar looking, but I’ll be damned if I have a clue as to who she is. I bought her a drink as well. Then a vendor came by selling balut (fertilized duck eggs), so I got some for the girls to enjoy.

I had a couple of drinks, then Tanya hailed a trike for me, and it took my drunk ass home. I’m still looking for the sweet spot when I’m drinking gin and sodas.

I’m doing okay on my informal diet plan so far, I think. I had a few strips of bacon before my hike, an orange, and some seaweed chips as a snack after the hike, and then limited myself to two small tacos (one corn shell, on soft) for dinner. And no beers. I won’t know until I do my weekly weigh-in on Sunday if going without is making a difference.

In the morning hours, I was huffing and puffing with the Wednesday Walkers group out Subic way. The thing about the Wednesday/Friday hikes is that we have a general idea in mind but no actual trail like at the Hash. Sometimes that leads to adventure. Yesterday, we got stymied multiple times by deadends as we searched in vain for a path down off the mountain that used to be there (we did it over a year ago), but it is apparently so little used that the jungle vines have overgrown it. We eventually retreated and took another path down, and it turned out fine—all part of the fun. I reckon even Lewis and Clark had some deadheads when they ventured out west. Not that I’m comparing our group to theirs–we don’t have anyone like Pocohantus to guide us.

Here are some photos from our quest:

Things don’t always go as planned, but that means it doesn’t get boring. I’d call that a good day!

Another interesting chat with Gen today, but I’ll need to process my thinking a little clearer before I can decide what exactly I’m feeling. If anything.

Stay tuned!

Well it's a strange old game you learn it slow
One step forward and it's back you go
You're standing on the throttle
You're standing on the brake
In the groove 'til you make a mistake

Sometimes you're the windshield
Sometimes you're the bug
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you're just a fool in love
Sometimes you're the Louisville Slugger
Sometimes you're the ball
Sometimes it all comes together
Sometimes you're gonna lose it all

You gotta know happy - you gotta know glad
Because you're gonna know lonely
And you're gonna know sad
When you're rippin' and you're ridin'
And you're coming on strong
You start slippin' and slidin'
And it all goes wrong because

Sometimes you're the windshield
Sometimes you're the bug
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you're just a fool in love
Sometimes you're the Louisville Slugger
Sometimes you're the ball
Sometimes it all comes together
Sometimes you're gonna lose it all

One day you got the glory and then you got none
One day you're a diamond and then you're a stone
Everything can change in the blink of an eye
So let the good times roll before we say goodbye because

Sometimes you're the windshield
Sometimes you're the bug
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you're just a fool in love
Sometimes you're the Louisville Slugger
Sometimes you're the ball
Sometimes it all comes together
Sometimes you're gonna lose it all

Sometimes you're the windshield
Sometimes you're the bug
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you're just a fool in love

Took care of some business yesterday, including getting a 60-day extension on my tourist visa. My very tentative thinking is that between now and March 5, when I’m due to renew, I’ll take a trip out of the country, perhaps to Vietnam. We’ll see. I’ll be going to the mountain city of Baguio next month to participate in the La Union Hash Valentine’s run. I’ve been there twice before and enjoyed it. And I also want to plan a trip to Bohol sometime this month. It’s been at the top of my list of places I want to see in the Philippines since before the scamdemic. No more excuses now.

My shopping trip to Royal went without incident. The five sale items in my cart all rang up with the appropriate discount. I’ll keep watching, though.

I felt like crap all day, low energy, and lethargic. Took two naps without much result. Got out the thermometer and saw I was running a low-grade fever of 38.1C. Popped a couple of aspirins and got on with my life.

The only issue with my new drinking routine is that it costs me twice as much because my method is one shot of gin in a tall glass and a whole can of soda water to add to the mix. It’s worth it because it allows me to both reduce the strength of my drink and slows the rate of consumption some. I had a coupon for Green Room that gave me two free drinks if I bought a lady drink, so I actually saved money on that deal.

After Green Room, I crossed the highway and checked my barber and was actually able to take a chair!

A couple more drinks at IDM, three at Cheap Charlies, and a nightcap at Voodoo. I wasn’t drunk, and it wasn’t even 8:00 yet, but I’d had enough, so I called it a night.

It’s probably too early to call this significant news, but I have been chatting with a woman I “met” on Facebook. An interesting gal who seems smart and witty. She also told me she likes to hike. I’m intrigued and want to learn more.

Gen is studying Korean because she hopes to find work there as an OFW. That would be consistent with my luck–I moved to the Philippines from Korea to find a woman, meet her, and then she moves to Korea. But that’s getting way ahead of myself. She did offer to be my tutor if I wanted to learn Tagalog.

We had a funny exchange in our chat last night. She asked me where I was, and I truthfully answered, “It Doesn’t Matter.” She responded, “okay, sorry to have asked.” I was laughing at her reaction and sent her this picture:

I guess Gen still didn’t get it because she wrote, “maybe it is better if you just say it’s none of my business.” Alright, I explained again that it was the name of the bar I was at, and I thought it was funny how she reacted. She finally understood and said it was funny but also reiterated that she didn’t mean to intrude on my privacy; she was just checking in on me. A bit of a red flag, perhaps, but we moved on and continued a pleasant chat throughout the evening.

Anyway, I’m looking forward to learning more about Gen when we meet in person next week.

Speaking of Facebook and the passage of time, I shared this on my page:

I thought it was kinda funny in a sad way, but my old friend Jeremy left this comment:

Yeah. People say shit that they don’t mean all the time, especially when they’re drunk, high, or otherwise intoxicated. Of course, in the first several months of any relationship, the love chemical, oxytocin, that the body produces is going to be in excess. Hence, the expression ‘drunk in love’. In fact, researchers have found that oxytocin make lovers feel positive drunk-like effects such as being relaxed, happy, and more confident as well as the negative effects such as aggression, jealousy, and arrogance.

However, this is necessary for the human propagation as a species. If we didnt have oxytocin, then we’d probably never mate (willingly). It just happens that many, especially the young (or inexperienced) don’t understand the thoughts and feelings that accompany the increase in oxytocin, so they say stupid shit like the above. To avoid having negative thoughts about the people who say such nonsense, it’s good to understand that they’re voicing an inebriated fantasy rather than making a sober, analyzed decision. This will make it hurt less IF forever doesn’t last until death did you part.

That sounds more cynical than even I’ve become, although I guess the “inebriated fantasy” is a shoe that might fit me. I tried to lighten the mood by asking, “Do you need a prescription for oxytocin? I could use some right about now.” It didn’t work:

you can get a prescription for oxytocin. However, studies suggest that it might be bad for those suffering from anxiety and depression, but you can also increase it naturally by physical touch (doesn’t need to be sexual, but it can result from masturbation), social interaction, massages, petting animals… basically, being generally happy. However, alcohol isn’t conducive to happiness from the standpoint of the physical body. You might feel good due to the inebriation, but it increases cortisol, a stress hormone, anxiety, depression, etc.

The exercise that you do (long hikes) is great for increasing your oxytocin levels, but all your gains are nullified by all of the alcohol consumption, both from a physical and mental standpoint.

All I could say to that was, “oh well, I guess I’m doomed.”

I do have some love in my life; they even like to take a morning walk with me.

And that’s about all I’ve got for today’s post about the third.

Started out with my Standard Solitary Sunday Stroll, watched the sun go down from Baloy Beach, and finished my evening in the company of a beautiful young woman. Then I went home alone. Let’s go back in time in reverse chronological order.

My buddy Ron messaged me with an invite to join him at McCoy’s on Baloy. A change of scenery is a good thing now and then, and I hadn’t been there since last year (damn, that line never gets old, does it?).

Nothing special about the morning hike, although I hadn’t walked that far since last year. (okay, I’ll stop now. Promise!)

I decided to take a photograph of the different roads and paths I walked along the way. Warning: these are pretty boring.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you! Actually, it’s a little more pleasant on Relive, so have at it if you are a glutton for punishment.

Yesterday was also the fifth anniversary of the beginning of my Hash career. I was visiting from Korea in preparation for my planned move five months later. Here are some photos from that historic event:

Good times.

And finally, I mentioned in an earlier post about being impressed by a Queen Vic dancer named Irish. The SOB sponsor has some pictures up, and I wanted to share a couple of her in action.

So, that’s how my year started out. Here’s to keeping all that positive momentum going!

…and in with the new. Well, the year didn’t end with a bang (I went home alone as usual), but by my low standards, it was a nice last night on the roller coaster called 2022.

Here’s how I ended the year. I needed a cash infusion, so I walked the 6K to the ATM in Subic town. After waiting in line, the first machine was out of cash, so I got in line for the second. I settled for 10,000 pesos (rather than the 20,000 I prefer) the machine was willing to dispense. Hopefully, that will get me through the weekend, but I burned through a lot of cash last night.

Just how did I spend over $100 in a single night? Glad you asked! It started with the feeding at Hideaway Bar. Seeing as how it was the night we celebrate the passing of a year, I wanted to do something a little out of the ordinary food-wise. So, I went to the Jewel cafe and ordered an eclectic mix of food items: spaghetti and meatballs, pork chops, pork sisig, and fried chicken. I also brought along the chocolate cake I’d baked at home. The gals loved the food, and caught up in the spirit of the moment, I rang the bell, thereby purchasing a lady drink for all the crew. Happy New Year!

Joy also gave me a homemade New Year’s card, which was a first for me.

I played a game of pool for the first time in forever and lost as usual. I was impressed with how well Joy plays, though. I guess it comes with working in a bar.

When I departed Hideaway, I planned on dropping in at Blue Butterfly, but as I approached, I changed my mind and walked on by. Instead, I climbed the stairs to Cheap Charlies and spent some time with one of my favorites there, Maya.

I actually told Maya about my idea of hiring a girlfriend, and she seemed to think it was doable. I asked her if there was anyone in the bar she’d recommend, and she didn’t hesitate before answering, “no.” Anyway, I’m only half serious about the concept, but I’m keeping my options open.

I had intended to go to Whiskey Girl as my next stop but was surprised to discover they were closed on a Saturday night and New Year’s Eve to boot. Then I looked across the street and saw that Queen Victoria was also closed. New Year’s here is not a party day but a family day, and I guess all the girls want to be home with loved ones–to hell with their favorite customers! Heh, I don’t blame them.

So, I was out of options. And Snackbar is conveniently located next to the nearest trike stand, so that’s where I went to continue my holiday beer-drinking revelry. They had a party going on, that’s for sure. Jenn joined me for drinks; then I bought some for my other old favorites (Lydell wasn’t working). The owner greeted me warmly, and it felt *almost* like old times.

I hadn’t been there since the aborted Christmas party, so I was presented the gift I had walked out on:

There was a raffle, and my ticket was drawn for this:

So, I wound up staying past my bedtime, but not so late that I couldn’t be safe and sound asleep in my bed at midnight. Probably a good thing; when I woke a little after one to pee, I could still hear the celebration noises outside.

So, here we are on day one of the new year, or more aptly perhaps, the first day of the rest of my life. And one of my goals is to extend that life long enough to continue to enjoy as many New Year’s celebrations as possible. To that end, I’ve resolved to focus more on my health and, hopefully, find fixes for my two major issues–chronic sinus congestion and my COPD. I suspect the two may be related. The lungs are especially concerning–these past couple of nights; I’ve experienced shortness of breath while simply walking between bars. That’s reminiscent of my pre-diagnosis days, and I’m worried that my condition may be getting worse. So, I’ll be making an appointment with my doctor for a consultation and referral for tests/X-rays to find out what is going on.

My other resolution is to exercise some self-discipline. I don’t think it is any secret that I’ve totally let myself go. I hadn’t even bothered to step on the scale for months before I did this morning. I’ve seen the pictures, and my beer belly is ridiculous. But it is not just the beer. After a night of drinking, I go home and gorge myself on ice cream and other sweet treats. I don’t want to go back to where I was as a morbidly obese man weighing 270 pounds. That brings with it a whole other host of potential health problems. I actually wonder if my breathing may be impacted by the extra pounds as well.

Anyway, self-discipline will start at the grocery store–I’m not going to purchase items that are going to tempt me to go off-diet. And I’m giving up the beer for a while, although Monday’s Hash will be a cheat day out of necessity (it’s all that is offered). Now, I’m not saying I’m giving up drinking; I’m just going back to my gin and soda days and the low-carb lifestyle. I’ll eat and drink more responsibly and do an informal intermittent fasting routine.

So, I’ll be weighing in every Sunday morning until I achieve my weight reduction goal (or die trying). My target is 195. Today the scale told me I weigh 225.3 pounds. Yeah, Wow, I was surprised I was that far gone too. How long will it take to lose 30 pounds? I guess we are about to find out.

Here’s my message for 2023: Bring it on, bitch! I’m going to make this life I’m living the best it can be. Let’s see how that works out for me.

Time for a little catch-up, not that there is much to be missed in this nothingness I call life. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not complaining. As Kris Kristofferson sang long ago, “nothin’ ain’t worth nothin’, but it’s free.”

Yesterday’s post was devoted to the Aeta outreach and hike to Mamueng Falls. As such, I didn’t get the chance to detail my Wednesday night activities.

With the new year approaching, I have decided to embark on an expedition to visit bars I haven’t seen in quite some time. Next door to Hideaway at the Arizona Resort is Redz Pub. My last time there was in October 2021, when it had the “honor” of being the first in the Bars of Barretto reviews. It’s currently ranked #32 (out of thirty-four bars), and I saw nothing last night that would warrant a revision–unless it is downward. Well, two girls there knew me by name from the long-ago Arizona Floating Bar days, but both were fat and unattractive. I had one beer, paid my tab, and left. And oh yeah, the beer was 120 pesos, making Redz Pub the most expensive bar for customer drinks in town. Quite the honor. Not!

I also visited Whiskey Girl and enjoyed the company of waitress Jenn. I’ve got to say, she is quite the snuggler, and damn, I’ve really missed having someone in this life to cuddle with. And I guess that planted the seed for a thought that’s been growing in my brain ever since. Still not fully developed, and maybe it will never be ripe for implementation, but when I wake up and can’t get back to sleep, it is something to think about in those early morning hours. More on that a bit later.

I finished my Wednesday night at Queen Victoria. It’s a strange bar; the girls seem to have me set on ignore. Well, to be fair, Irish was with a customer, and most of the others don’t interest me at all. I heard the band start playing in the back room, and there was a female lead singer, so I went to have a closer look.

Which brings us to yesterday. Again, nothing really out of the ordinary–did my solo walk, had a nap, blogged, and then headed out to the bars.

I left the house a bit earlier than usual because I had a delivery to make at It Doesn’t Matter.

I stayed for a couple of beers, then crossed the highway, hoping to get a haircut. Nope, my barber was still occupied with other customers; that’s three times in a row now. So, I walked up the highway to a beauty salon and asked about a haircut–“three people ahead of you, sir.” Damn, this town needs more barbers!

Seeing as how I was on the far side of town and also craving a pulled pork sandwich, I paid a visit to John’s place.

After my meal, I walked back to the barbershop, and there was still a woman in the chair. Fuck it; I went upstairs to Cheap Charlies to drown my sorrows. Sitting there alone with three gals surrounding me. The back rub was very nice, but the reality of the whole scene is growing a little wearisome. I want a gal who pretends to like me at my side even when I’m not buying her drinks. Alma, my CC favorite, asked me why I looked so sad. I told her I wasn’t sad, just contemplative. I doubt she understood what I meant.

I had gotten a message earlier in the week that Flor, the owner of Alley Cats’ partner, had gotten me a Christmas gift, and I should come by to get it. I missed the Christmas party there because I was at Hideaway’s party. Well, times change, and without me playing darts these days, there isn’t much reason for me to go to Alley Cats.

I didn’t have a gift to offer in return, so instead, I bought all the girls working a lady drink. That cost me over a thousand pesos, so I guess we can call it even.

They were having trivia night at Alley Cats, which I’ve never enjoyed but last night reminded me of how my brainpower has been reduced. I couldn’t think of the answers, even when I knew them if you know what I mean. Anyway, I didn’t stay long.

My last stop was Queen Victoria again. And the bartender’s shirt seemed to be sending me a message:

And then he turned around:

So, how do I reconcile those sentiments with my desire to have a companion by my side, at least occasionally? Well, this thought occurred to me. The girls who are so good at faking it are only making 300 pesos a day. I can pay more than that and give them better hours and working conditions. Yeah, you heard me; my big idea is hiring a girlfriend. I’m not even looking for a live-in, maybe just two or three overnights a week. I’m looking for some cuddles, and I’d like to have someone to cook for and maybe travel with me occasionally. And yeah, company on my barhops would be nice, too. Anyway, it’s just an idea that I haven’t thought through yet, but maybe it could work. No breakups or broken hearts; if things aren’t working, I can emulate Trump and say, “you’re fired!”

Another option I’m going to pursue is the dating site Filipina Cupid. I had good luck there meeting gals I liked back when I was still living in Korea. That’s where I met Loraine. Oh, wait. That didn’t work out so well for me, did it? Well, it will be different this time. I hope. Actually, it is just an easy way to meet non-bargirls who live close enough to me where we can actually go on dates. I’d quit the site over three years ago but signed up as a premium member for one-year this morning (a little over a hundred bucks). You can’t chat or get messages from the women there if you are not a premium subscriber (the women don’t have to be). Anyway, I’m going to give it a try and see what happens.

I do need to update my profile and pictures. Haven’t gotten around to that yet. These are the ones I’m thinking about using:

How will they be able to resist those manly charms? You never know unless you try. The worst-case scenario is that I’ll come to actually appreciate being alone all the time. There’s value in that.

SOB tonight, and I’d better head out now if I’m going to get a good seat. Stay tuned; some exciting days are bound to be right around the corner!

…about my nothin’ Tuesday. But here goes anyway.

Didn’t do much else until I left the house for a haircut. Which I didn’t get because my barber was engaged with some female customers’ hair. I went across the street to IDM, but two beers later, he was still working on her hair. So, I climbed the stairs to Cheap Charlies and waited it out over the course of three more beers. And guess what? The barber STILL was working on that woman’s hair, so I gave up.

Wasn’t sure what to do next, so I decided to have some dinner and think it over.

I using my 15% discount coupon courtesy of the SOB, and I went all in and ordered dessert as well (something I rarely do since I always have ice cream at home).

After my meal, I used by “buy one, get one” coupon at Voodoo. Then I went up the highway to Wet Spot. It was pretty dead, but I had a couple more beers there anyway. My upstairs neighbor was playing pool next door at Green Room, so I popped in to say hello. Two beers later, I was on my way home.

I made it an early night because I have a busy day today. Up early to prepare my after-hike snacks (sandwich, chips, apples with cheese, and Oreo cookies). Oh yeah, I’m bringing some beer too.

Pre-hike is the outreach event at the Aeta village. That should be an interesting experience.

So, I’ll definitely have something of substance to write about tomorrow!

Commenter Brandon made a joking remark about liquor and poker on yesterday’s post. Which brought back this memory from my trip to Pattaya, Thailand, way back in 2016:

My Christmas day festivities began with the buffet luncheon at Mango’s. They started serving at noon, and I arrived a little after 1 p.m. The place was packed, and every table was full. I had made a reservation for two but hadn’t been able to find a date to accompany me. I was fully prepared to just bail and eat elsewhere, but then I spotted a seat reserved in my name.

I went through the buffet line and got about the last of the turkey, some ham, and several other side dishes.

I had three beers with my meal. I didn’t go for the pie (pumpkin and apple) dessert because I was feeling quite full, unlike my Thanksgiving experience. At one point as I sat there, the bartender asked me why I looked so sad. Hmm, I wasn’t feeling any sadder than usual; I guess it’s just my natural resting bitch face.

After my meal, I headed up the highway to It Doesn’t Matter. Along the way, I observed that about half the bars were closed for the holiday. It was also much earlier in the afternoon than I usually start drinking, so others hadn’t opened it yet.

IDM was open, but there were very few customers present. One of them was my pal Chris, and I sat with him and chatted some. My regular waitress Agnes was absent, so I didn’t feel obligated to buy lady drinks. Chris decided to go for a massage, and I was bored, so finished my third beer and left.

Next up was Cheap Charlies. My regular back rubber Eunice went to work with her talented hands, and Jonalyn, a girl I crushed on once without reciprocation, took a seat beside me. Beers and lady drinks were our modes of celebrating the birth of Jesus Christo.

I saw Hot Zone was opening across the street, so I finished my third beer and said my goodbyes. I had a 500 peso voucher coupon from the SOB to use. I got there right when they opened, and the dancers were still working on their makeup. A food buffet was also being offered, but I was still full. The Belgian chocolate guy came in, so I bought 500 pesos worth and shared it with the girls. Four beers later, my coupon was done, and so was I. At Hot Zone. Next stop, Wet Spot.

Again, not much happening in the bars on Christmas. I bought my regular waitress a lady drink and enjoyed two more beers. It wasn’t quite eight o’clock, but given my early start, I was feeling no pain. Plus, I had that fruit salad waiting for me at home. Alas, when I exited Wet Spot, there was not a trike to be found. Oh well, I’ll just hoof it down the road until I find one. There’s another trike stand next door to Alaska Club, but it was empty as well.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, so I went into Sloppy Joe’s and had another beer. After I finished that one, I saw an available trike and grabbed it for the ride home.

So, if you are keeping score at home, that makes sixteen beers in seven hours (at least, that’s what I remember). Not bad for an old fucker celebrating Christmas alone.

This morning I got a message from a guy I know who lives in Angeles City now that he was in town and had a gift for me. So, we met up at Harley’s on Baloy for a bit.

Today’s Hash is our annual Candy Run. I’m still not clear on why we are doing it AFTER Christmas, but candy is dandy, and I’m sure the kids we see will be happy for the sweets. 18 Kilo Ass is once again playing the role of Santa Claus.

And we’ll all be dressed in red.

And that’s pretty much where things stand as of now.

There's got to be a morning after
If we can hold on through the night
We have a chance to find the sunshine
Let's keep on looking for the light

Oh, can't you see the morning after?
It's waiting right outside the storm
Why don't we cross the bridge together
And find a place that's safe and warm?

And so, Christmas has arrived at last. Here’s what went down on the eve of this momentous day.

I completed the rounds of giving envelopes to the security and maintenance staff of the subdivision. They are certainly deserving and seemed appreciative. Yeah, when you add in the bargirls and my sponsorships, I burned through some cash this season. No regrets, though. It feels good to help those less fortunate, even in a small way. One big project remaining next week– the Aeta village outreach our hiking group will be part of. Fifty+ families for that event, then a hike to some waterfalls with the village chief as our guide. Looking forward to that.

Just before I headed out for my morning walk yesterday, I got a message from “Maria,” one of my former “friends with benefits” program participants. I’d been ignoring her pleas for help these past couple of months because she struck me as being selfish, dishonest, and generally unworthy. But in the spirit of the season, I responded to her “Merry Christmas” message with a the same to you. And, of course, she wanted help so she could provide a Christmas meal for her children. I had no interest in her providing me with any “services,” but I figured I’d contribute 1000 pesos so her family could enjoy a happy holiday. She lives in the squatter village right outside Alta Vista, so I told her to be out on the street when I walked by in fifteen minutes. There she was, waiting as I approached. Six months pregnant by the way she looked. She said she was “shy” to tell me. I just shook my head, gave her the money, wished her well, and walked on. I doubt she even knows who the father is. Hmm, let me do the math. Nope, not me!

After my hike, I got busy in the kitchen.

Now, I do my baking the old-fashioned way. From a box. But that doesn’t mean I don’t occasionally go off-recipe. For this cake, I added raisins and walnuts to the mix. The cake tasted fine, and I like the texture and crunchiness of the walnuts. Now, I like raisins just fine, but I guess because of their weight, they wound up on the bottom crust of the cake. When I removed the cake from the pan, some of those old grapes were left behind.

So, a few days ago, the Snack bar owner sent a message inviting me to the Christmas party. And then, early yesterday morning, the gal running the party messaged me asking if I would be a judge for some contest they were having. I asked what time the party started, and she said 4:00 and the contest would begin at 5:00 or so. Alright then, sounds like a plan. I brought the brownies and some gift envelopes.

So, I don’t know what went wrong, but the party had not started by 5:30, and I was getting restless. Yeah, I just wasn’t feeling it.

I handed out a couple of envelopes to my favorites and moved on to It Doesn’t Matter. A couple of more beers and an envelope for Agnes there. Joy messaged me asking if “Santa” was going to visit Hideaway, and I decided, “why not?” The bar is closed today (my regular feeding day), so I fed the gals last night instead.

I also wanted to say Merry Christmas to my favorites at Cheap Charlies, so that was my next stop. Beers and lady drinks flowed, and I handed out a couple more envelopes. I had one left to give away, and I wanted to reward my waitress at Wet Spot. That required dodging some traffic on the highway, but I lived to tell about it.

Daddy Dave showed up, and we had a pleasant conversation as we imbibed our alcoholic beverages. The clock struck 9:00, and that meant time for me to bail, so I caught a trike for home. Gave the driver 150 pesos for the ride and wished him a Merry Christmas. He seemed pleased with that.

And now it’s Christmas. I’ve got a lunch buffet reservation at Mango’s, and I need to head out that way soon. But I busied myself in the kitchen again, preparing my only remaining Christmas tradition: my Aunt Pat’s Recipe World Famous Fruit Salad.

Speaking of which, drinking alone (even with a bargirl beside you, you are still emotionally alone) can sometimes feel depressing. And I really wasn’t happy about the way the party thing worked out (I got a message from a friend around 8:00 showing the party in full swing), but upon reflection, it was probably for the best that I wasn’t there. That’s the past; I need to keep it there.

Anyway, time to head to Mango’s for my Christmas meal. And after that? Well, I think I’m going to throw caution to the wind and drink like a madman this afternoon. I’m not going quit until I’m comfortably numb. We’ll see how that works out for me.

There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship smoke on the horizon
You are only coming through in waves
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying
When I was a child
I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown
The dream is gone
I have become comfortably numb

Another fun-filled day here in paradise. I joined the Friday hiking group and suggested we do the moderately easy My Bitch trail, and they all agreed. The only real climb was in the beginning, getting up into and through Alta Vista. I’ve done that hundreds of times. But yesterday, I was huffing and puffing and practically breathless fifteen minutes into the hike. I considered bailing (I was practically next door to my place), but I didn’t want to give up without a fight. Heh, I was going to keep walking until my last breath! Nothing that dramatic, but definitely cause for concern. I’ll be taking a renewed focus on my health issues in the new year.

Anyway, it was a good hike, and I’ll share some photos from the trail at the end of this post. The other big event on my calendar was attending the weekly SOB dance contest. And at this time of year, I can’t help thinking that even the routine feels special.

Apparently, the Christmas season has seen the departure of a lot of the regulars. It seemed we only had about half the crowd that attended last week’s event. It was still a nice show, of course, just not as many were there at Queen Victoria to enjoy it. I got enough beer drinking in to make the ending a little fuzzy, but my fellow judges deemed Wet Spot the winner, with Voodoo second and Queen Vic third. I think. I’ll post some photos when they become available.

I paid a visit to my pal Max’s weekly dance party after the SOB, and he was also experiencing a significant reduction in patronage on Christmas Eve eve. I guess that’s to be expected, especially when a large portion of his target audience is Filipino. The locals head home to the provinces to spend the holiday with family.

A couple of more beers with Max as a show of support, then I caught a trike and headed for home.

Speaking of trikes, I ride one every night to get home after my beer-consumption rituals. So, I found this trike-themed holiday song enjoyable. Perhaps you will as well.

Walking into town (no trikes available in Alta Vista unless you call for one), I always enjoy the scenery from on high.

Oh, and one of the attendees just posted this video of the Queen Victoria team’s routine from last night. Enjoy it if you dare.

Okay, that leaves the hike photos.

Been busy this afternoon in the kitchen. Baked a batch of brownies for the Christmas party at Snackbar today. And I experimented with a carrot cake for me. I’ll let you know how it comes out on Christmas.

Don’t forget to leave a beer and pretzels out for Santa tonight.

A wild and crazy day, at least by my standards. I started with my usual Thursday solo walk and then did a bar hop in the evening. Hmm, that doesn’t sound all that wild and crazy after all. Here’s how it went down:

Speaking of hikes, I left out my favorite photo from the Wednesday hike post.

I got home, did my everyday routines (napping and blogging), and then you know what it was time for:

Here’s what my bar hop looked like:

Anyway, Whiskey Girl was my first stop, and I arrived right at the 5:00 p.m. opening time. My old dart mate Mark is managing the place now, so we had a good chat. My drinking companion was waitress Jenn, and we had an interesting talk about the bargirl lifestyle and some of the unique challenges the girls face. She appreciated the fact that Mark didn’t hassle her when she recently declined to go with a customer. Apparently, that’s not always been the case with other managers. Jenn also told me that when she first started working, “take out” wasn’t available. The flip side of the coin is that is the best opportunity for the girls to make a decent salary. I don’t have an issue with it as long as the girl isn’t coerced into taking part.

I was using a “buy one, get one” coupon and also bought some drinks for Jenn and one for the mamasan. The first time I’d done that, mamasan was surprised because she said she didn’t think I liked her. I assured her that was not the case and it was nice to get to know her a little better. Before leaving, I gave Jenn a Christmas gift envelope.

The next stop was Alaska Club. Owner Jerry always shouts out a warm greeting, and the girls are always sweet to me too. My coupon was good for all the SOB bars, so the bottles of beer kept on coming, and I was not feeling any pain. I called my favorite dancer, Marissa, down from the stage to join me. I also gave all the dancers a 50 peso tip for working hard to entertain me. Marissa mentioned that she goes to the gym with one of the other dancers, and I thought I should have her join us. I mistakenly pointed to the wrong dancer, and rather than be an ass and send her back; I had her and the gym partner join my table.

It was a good time, and I’ll be seeing Marissa again tonight at the SOB. I wasn’t finished with the fun yet, though. I made Wet Spot my next venue.

As soon as I took my seat, my regular waitress was there again, apologizing for the poor service I had inadvertently received the night before. She explained she had been distracted by another task and that it wouldn’t happen again. I reassured her that my issue hadn’t been with her; it was the other waitresses just sitting around ignoring me that peeved me. Anyway, stellar service last night, and all is well now.

I had an errand to attend to near Mugshots (yes, a bargirl in financial distress), so I popped in and had a beer with the waitress I know there. I was pretty much maxed out at this point, and bedtime was approaching, so I nixed the idea I had about making Hot Zone my last stop and went home instead.

As I was writing this bar hop report, this song started playing in my head:

Now, I'm a jet fuel genius - I can solve the world's problems
Without even trying
I got dozens of friends and the fun never ends
That is, as long as I'm buying
Is it any wonder I'm not the president
Is it any wonder I'm null and void?
Is it any wonder I've got

Too much time on my hands?
It's ticking away with my sanity
I've got too much time on my hands
It's hard to believe such a calamity
I got too much time on my hands
And it's ticking away, ticking away from me

I don’t know if anyone else does this, but lately, when I wake up in the wee hours of the morning after a night like last night, I start talking to myself. I mean, out loud, as if I were having a conversation. And I guess, in a way, I am. But at least that person in my head seems to see things for what they are, and it all makes sense when he’s explaining it to me. No need to go into details here, but things are what they are, and everything is going to work out fine. I think I’m beginning to achieve the Zen that comes with acceptance. (I know next to nothing about Buddhism, so if that use of Zen is in the wrong context, I’m sure one of my readers will set me straight)

Anyway, another drunken SOB is on tap for tonight, this time at Queen Victoria. It’s good to know the house will be safe while I’m away.

I reckon at least some of my loyal readers are wondering how my “date” went yesterday. Here’s the lowdown:

“April” was scheduled to arrive at 3:00. Shortly before the appointed hour, she messaged me to say she’d be late. I asked how late, and she eventually responded she’d arrive at 4:00. Okay, well, my balls were in the crockpot, so that was no big deal. I turned off the gas but left the bread in the oven. Did the same on the stovetop with the corn. The brussel sprouts were in the microwave to melt some cheese on top, and I left them there. The meal was salvageable, at least.

Except when April arrived, she wasn’t hungry, saying she ate with her kids before leaving home. Okay, that’s on me because I hadn’t told her I was cooking. Instead, we had a beer and sat on the patio, enjoying the view until the sinking sun got in our eyes and chased us back inside. While sitting at the kitchen table, I asked April the purpose of her visit. To her credit, she was honest in her response: money.

She wasn’t quite that blunt, instead phrasing it as her bar not allowing barfines, so she thought I might like a “happy ending” in exchange for some cash. I wasn’t really surprised that that was her intent, although I will admit to some level of disappointment. The whole meal thing had been my way of maintaining the illusion of a date, just in case that was her intention. So, she got what she came for, and perhaps I got lucky in the sense that I didn’t get strung along and played for a fool again. Plus, I managed to pace myself and avoid the dreaded breathing attack. That’s a whole other kind of happy ending.

April messaged me today, saying she wants to see me again when I have free time. Hmm, maybe I should turn that around on her and say I’d be happy to see her when her time is free. Who knows what will happen next? Anyway, one day at a time.

After sending April on her way with money in her pocket, I salvaged the remains of the meal and carried some of the leftovers with me to Hideaway. I also ordered the girls a Hawaiian pizza from Shamboli’s and brought along a batch of brownies. I must say, my balls were quite popular with the girls.

After Hideaway, I visited Mugshots again. I really do enjoy the ambiance and comfort of this bar. They were playing some country tunes last night, my waitress was rubbing my back, and I was at peace with the world. Does that mean I surrendered? I don’t know. Why fight it? I’m just going to go with the flow and see where it takes me.

Come Christmas; it will be taking me here:

Nothing special about my regular Solitary Sunday Stroll. I modified my usual route some and did the photo every 1.6K (one mile) thing.

I was finally able to get my Relive app to sync with my Map My Walk app on the new phone, so have at it if you are so inclined:

And now it is another beautiful morning here on Hash Monday.

It’s a Leech My Nuggets trail, and that means long and hard. There may be a shortcut in my future. We’ll see.

For I shall always let thee do,
   In generous love, just what I please.
Peace comes, and discord flies away,
   Love’s bright day follows hatred’s night;
For I am ready to admit
   That you are wrong and I am right.

Maybe that’s why I’m single…

I’ve had a flurry of people contacting me through Facebook Messenger that I’ve never met before. It’s not all that unusual, I suppose, Christmas season seems to enhance all those desperate circumstances faced by the less fortunate. I’ve gotten better at limiting my responses to people I at least know something about, but sometimes I take a misstep. Like yesterday morning.

It started with a message from “Beth” asking if we could get together. I didn’t recall ever meeting her, but there was something familiar about her profile picture. I went and scrolled through her Facebook page, and then her last name rang a bell. I asked if she was the daughter of Wanda (a Hash acquaintance). She responded that she was. Okay, this just got weird. How old are you? (That’s a very important question if you want to stay out of jail). She told me she was twenty-two. That at least matched the birthdate she had on FB. I could see she had two young kids from the FB pics, so the odds were good that she was at least eighteen. Why do you want to meet? I don’t have money for milk or diapers. Figures.

I told Beth I was getting ready to go for a hike, and she asked if she could wait for me at my house. Alright, she did seem legitimately desperate. What about your mother? Beth says they haven’t talked for a long time. Hmm. I don’t know what got into me, but I decided to throw caution to the wind and let her come over. I figured I could always hike after, whatever after turned out to be. And exercise can take many forms, right?

So, I gave Beth directions to my place and waited for her arrival by trike. Naturally, she got lost in the subdivision, despite the ease of getting here (basically three right turns). I walked out to find her and saw her walking on the wrong part of my street (she had turned left instead of right), and OMG, she didn’t look anything like the photos I had seen. She was as fat as an American woman. I brought her to the house, and she sat on the couch and was unwilling or unable to engage in any kind of conversation. Well, she did manage to ask me for my WiFi password. I gave it to her, and then she buried her nose in her phone as if I weren’t even there. That’s okay; one look at her and all my evil thoughts had quickly run far away.

I’ve often said there are worse things than being alone, and Beth was a good example of that. I gave her 1000 pesos and transportation money and told her to leave. She seemed surprised. Well, she got what she needed for milk and diapers, and there was nothing I needed from her. I guess that makes it a win-win.

Later in the day, I made a date with a girl from another bar I met. I’m not completely sure of her intentions, but I think this is just a legitimate getting to know each other better outside of work encounter. I do plan to ask her to eat my balls, though.

She’s due to arrive this afternoon at 3:00 p.m. I’ll be prepared for whatever she has in mind, but I hope she is interested in more than just the bulge in my pants (my wallet).

I started my Saturday evening beer drinking at Cheap Charlies. Then when it was time to eat, I went to John’s place.

John’s recliner was empty, and I asked the waitress regarding his whereabouts. She said he was playing pool at Alaska Club. That’s a good sign. Later on, I saw him walking on the highway with his wife. So, he’s up and around. Today he posted this on Facebook:

I am considering of restart of pizza. We used to make it before, but I didn’t like my own pizza too much.

First reason was flour. All I could’ve gotton locally was heavey all- purpose flour, which didnt have the right texture of pizza dough.

2nd reason was because I was moving right across Shambolis.

But Shambolis is moving away and I also found importer in Manila who imports real Italian, non GMO, 00 pizza flour. I had them send it via Victory Liner. Among all flour they carry, we had them ship the best one, CAPUTO brand, appx 4 times more expensive than flour I can get locally, but I am sure it will suit my taste. I intend to use pure Italian tomato & Flour only.

So I will do some practice and start making pizza again. This time, we’ll be different. We’ll start poolish. For toppings, we are thinking of Birria, Kung Pao pizza which will be new invetion and Hawaiian with home made smoked ham, bacon and cheese pizza.

While I was at John’s, Joy messaged me and said none of the girls had gotten a lady drink all day long at Hideaway. That’s pretty sad for a Saturday night. Plus, the girls all rely on those drink commissions to make ends meet. Being the foolish generous man that I am, I paid a surprise visit to the bar and rang the bell (that gives each girl working a drink). Hey, it’s a small thing and still makes a difference.

When I was finished at Hideaway, I made a surprise return visit to Mugshots and once again enjoyed spending some time with Mae. Not the cutest girl in town by a longshot, but she’s fun to be around. Looking forward to getting to know her better.

I made Sloppy Joe’s my stop for the night, thinking I’d enjoy a cold beer with a highway view. Alas, a drunk Filipino on the street came up to the bar and started being loud and obnoxious. I did my best to ignore him, but my patience was really being tested. Thankfully, one of the waitresses called a manager (the guy appeared to be twice the size of the drunk), and the situation was quickly de-escalated. Drunk as he was, he could see the outcome was not going to be in his favor.

Facebook memories continue to show me pics of myself from those long ago days gone by.

And finally, let me share those photos of the winners from Friday’s SOB:

Here’s a video of the Whiskey Girl team in action:

The Wednesday Walkers group yesterday consisted of one other participant and me. So, I took her for a 6K street walk and fed her some lunch when we finished.

I have nothing further to report regarding my status in Lydell’s life. I don’t have a clue what is going on. I guess that says more than enough about where we are. Or are not.

I had a 15% discount coupon for Sit-n-Bull, so decided to splurge for last night’s feeding at Hideaway. A big lasagna dinner for Joy, chicken wings, chicken fingers, and lumpia for the girls, and a box of Choco Pies for dessert. Everything got eaten, so I guess they must have liked the meal.

When I’d had my fill of beers at Hideaway, I went out in search of a place to enjoy a nightcap. It occurred to me it had been a while since my last visit to Alaska Club, so I made that my destination.

Several months ago, I had met an interesting dancer there named Marissa. And then she disappeared. She was back last night and remembered me more than I did her. It was nice to get reacquainted. Marissa told me she had been back in her hometown (Bacolod City, Visayas) building a house. I asked if she had a foreigner sponsor, and she said no, she was using the money she had saved while working at Alaska. That’s why she’s back now, to earn more to finish the house and open a business. Pretty impressive. She also found my jokes hilarious, which either means I’m funny as hell or that she is very good at her job.

Oh, and I saw John Kim (the foodie guy) at Alaska playing in the pool tournament. He looked a lot better, and the fact that he was out of his recliner and moving around is a positive development.

On the subject of illness, I came across this article talking about COPD and mental health issues: Not being isolated helps people with COPD maintain good mental health. Speaking from personal experience, I was crazy long before I was diagnosed, so I’m not seeing the connection. But that said, I do get out and about and have some social connections (as reported in today’s post, for example). True, they are shallow and meaningless, but maybe so am I. Still, I crave a relationship like I had with Jee Yeun–someone to share my life with and take care of me. Of course, we saw how that turned out. Well, that breakup led me here, for better or worse. If the COPD doesn’t kill me, something else will. The challenge is holding out as long as possible. I’d like to experience 80 before I die. It’s good to have goals!

Tuesday proved to be somewhat of a pain in the ass. And I’m not just talking about being sore from Monday’s Hash crash. Living without a smartphone is dumb, so I endeavored to get mine fixed. The first shop didn’t have the needed parts in stock but promised to have them by the afternoon. Tried a couple of other places with the same result, except they’d need three or more days to get the parts. So, I sent my helper back to the first place in Olongapo, and they, too, suddenly needed three days to get what my phone needed to live again. Plus, they wanted payment in advance. My helper walked away from that deal but left her phone number. Somehow I don’t think they’ll be calling.

Choosing not to live the solitary life of the phoneless, I purchased a new Samsung A23, a step or two down from my previous model, an A53. My plan is that when my old phone is repaired and good as new again, I’ll relegate my new phone to backup duty should I ever again find myself in this situation.

Things haven’t been easy as I’ve gone through the replacement process. When I last upgraded to the A53, I was able to transfer all the data and apps from the old phone to the new one. That wasn’t an option this time, so I’ve been adding the apps I need one at a time. My real problem is that I don’t remember the security info like passwords, which has been a hassle resetting to new ones. I’m not a genius when it comes to technology anyway, but damn, the app would send a code I need to my phone or email, and when I went to retrieve it, I couldn’t get back to where I had been to enter the code. I had much more success working this from home with the laptop and phone in tandem.

Oh, well. I didn’t break any bones, which would have been much more painful than trying to restore data on a phone. I’m going to just count my blessings and be happy that this is the worst thing to happen to me recently. I’m a lucky man!

I took my first photos with the new phone from my vantage point at Cheap Charlies.

Then I got hungry, so I crossed the highway for a bite to eat at Sit-n-Bull.

After my meal, I headed over to Whiskey Girl to expend some SOB coupons. I had a “buy a lady’s drink, get two customer drinks,” and waitress Jen was so kind as to join me at my table to share the bounty. She’s definitely a snuggle bunny, and that was what my achy body needed. I was so comfortable I wound up buying two lady drinks.

I finished my evening at Snackbar, and the company was good there too.

Despite the temptations, I made it home by bedtime. Alone again, naturally.

Via Facebook comes the reminder that I wasn’t living such a solitary life six years ago.

Speaking of my working life, I received an email from an 8th Army colonel asking for a reference on a candidate who’s applied for my once again vacant Director, HRM position. His candidate is a good one, and I highly recommend her for the job.

My job now is to keep you, my readers, entertained. Even if it is in an “I’m glad I’m not him” kind of way.

And speaking of adding value, I actually read something today that was thought-provoking, even in my weary and worn-out brain. It’s entitled: Are you the same person you used to be? The article’s basic premise is that people tend to divide themselves into two categories: continuers or dividers. Or, more precisely, seeing your life as having been lived on a continuum from childhood to the present. Alternatively, dividers see their lives as chapters in an ongoing story, with many changes taking place over time.

Thinking of my life, I’m definitely in the dividers category. I’m not who I was as a child, young adult, or middle-aged man. And this being elderly thing is a whole other world. I actually did a series of posts here called “One lifetime, many lives.” I’ve still got a couple of chapters left to write.

Anyway, that’s how I see it. I also see it’s time for me to get ready for my Wednesday feeding at Hideaway Bar. Thanks for stopping by!

There are certainly pluses to small-town living. There is a comfort level with being part of a community, being recognized and welcomed by name when you are out and about. The downside that goes with that familiarity is that everyone knows your business, or at least they think they do. And then there are the rotten few who spread lies and rumors intended to disparage you and undermine the perception of your character. That impact is exacerbated in a place where talk is cheap, and people tend to believe whatever they hear. Or so it would appear.

I’m far from a saint, but I’m not ashamed of who I am and what I do. I don’t like to talk or appear to be bragging about some of my charity projects, but I’m proud to be making at least some difference in the lives I’m able to touch. But for whatever reason, doing good deeds doesn’t seem to be of interest to the folks who engage in malicious gossip. Go figure.

I guess what generated this rant was learning that these unfounded stories have had negative impacts on how I’m perceived and the way I’m treated by some people. I chatted with Lydell on Messenger for the first time in several days this morning. She told me she had given me the cold shoulder because someone had told her I had a girlfriend. I told her that someone had lied to her. The fact that she chose to believe that lie rather than ask me about it is probably a clear indication that our “relationship” was doomed to failure before it ever really began.

My friend “Judy” treated me to lunch yesterday. It was her way of saying thanks upon receiving her first payday from a job she got because I purchased the required laptop for her. Over the course of our conversation, the topic of Lydell came up (she wanted to know what happened), and then Judy told me that when we first met, she had been warned that I had “girlfriends” in every bar in town. She admitted that put her off the idea of dating me.

I guess truth and innocence don’t come into play when it ruins a good story. It seems shameful that people accept the lies without even making a cursory attempt to ascertain the truth. Again, I don’t claim to be an angel, but I don’t cheat, and I don’t lie. I hang out in bars, and I buy some lady drinks. Maybe I engage in some “flirty” chitchat, but I’m not grabbing ass or paying to fuck a bargirl. Back when I last had a girlfriend, I ended my “friends with benefits” project and didn’t even accept massages from the mountain friend I support. It just sucks to have potential relationships destroyed based on lies and rumors, but that’s the way things seem to go in my little town.

In other news, I got fired from Xoom, a money transfer service I regularly use. It started when a $500. transfer intended to fund a charity project for a native Aeta village in Olongapo was rejected. The rejection notice asked me to provide additional information regarding the recipient and the purpose of the transaction. I provided the requested information, assuming the problem would be resolved. Okay, I get it. Maintaining security and avoiding fraudulent transfers is a legitimate concern. I was astounded when I received this email:

Based on a thorough review of your transactions and/or your recipient’s transactions, we have decided to close your Xoom account.

No warning. No appeal. Just canceled. It’s a shame, too, because I used Xoom regularly to pay my helper and for sending money to other individuals “experiencing emergencies.” It just seems extreme to eliminate my account in response to my inquiry. Well, I guess they can do what they want, but damn.

It’s Friday, and that means another SOB experience is on tap, this time at Voodoo Lounge.

Max is looking for a niche, or void to be filled, in the Barretto market. There are no discos or dance clubs here presently, so this is a test run to see if he can generate any interest. Discos are not my thing, and as an old fucker, I’m not the target audience anyway. But I’m going to check it out as a show of support. It will be interesting to see if some of the locals want to hang out amongst the foreigners. Good luck to Max! He’s put a lot of hard work into pulling this together, and as he says, it will be, if nothing else, educational.

And that’s the news from here today.

Had a nice threesome yesterday with Scott and Martin. I’m talking about hiking, you pervs! Only three Wednesday Walkers were in attendance, so we rode out to Naugsol in Scott’s car, then hoofed it to Tibag and back. We only make it out this way once or twice a year, and I always enjoy it. There is just something about this area that resonates with me for some reason. Other than it being out in the middle of fucking nowhere with nothing to do, no bars, and no other foreigners, I could almost fantasize about living the life of a Tibagger. But not for long. Pictures from the adventure at the end of this post.

My feeding plans for HIdeaway were stymied when I discovered that the Jewel restaurant is closed on Wednesdays. So, it was chicken, pork, and rice takeout from one of the shops on the highway instead. I baked the brownies, of course.

I finished the night at Queen Victoria again and shared a drink with my Irish friend. And I discovered something interesting about her that I hadn’t noticed when we first met.

Oh, and speaking of women, I forgot to post a picture of the one I met at Royal yesterday.

Welp, we are full on into the holiday season now, and I’ve definitely got the spirit.

Alright, that pretty much covers the alcoholic portion of the day; here’s the walkaholic part:

It was another good day for an old man in paradise.

Tuesdays are pretty much my nothing day, by which I mean to say even more nothing than my other days. Grocery shopping replaces my morning walk, and that’s not a lot to blog about. Well, I did catch the scamming bastards not honoring the posted sale prices once again. These days I keep all the items that are marked down on the shelves in one place in my cart and watch as the cashier scans them. And sure enough, the full price rang up on all of them. It just seems to me this must be intentional. If you can make a big deal out of posting signs on the shelf showing the discount, you can sure as hell update the price in the scanner database. It pisses me off, and I’ve been warning my fellow Royal shoppers.

I came across an article confirming that when I say “y’all,” I speak the King’s English. Just wanted y’all to know that in case you were thinking I was just some cracker spouting redneck talk. Just sayin’ that dawg won’t hunt. Alrighty then, I’m fixin’ to let go of this subject and move on now.

Today’s Facebook memories carried me back to the final year of my working life.

I’m not sure what to make of this:

Saw this flower on today’s hike, and it reminded me of something.

Speaking of hiking, Scott shared a handy color code we can use when deciding on which trail to take.

Alright, this post isn’t totally without substance. I attended a birthday party yesterday at Alley Cats bar for owner Dean. I’m not going to try and sort out the pronouns, she was born a female, so I’ll say she and her. Knowing Dean, she won’t be offended. It’s been months since my last visit to Alley Cats, as I’ve had no reason to go since retiring from playing darts. But Dean messaged me an invite to her party, and I appreciated that. I’d been going to the bar three days a week (at least) for over four years, and she is the first person who even bothered to check in with me. That’s the difference between bar friends and real friends in a nutshell.

I guess I got a little forward and asked the waitress if she would give me some head.

A dart tournament followed the party, but I did not stay for that. Headed up the highway to a relatively new bar called Sloppy Joe’s and had a couple of beers there. I’ll do a Bars of Barretto review tomorrow.

I finished my night at Queen Victoria, where I met an Irish girl.

Bedtime rolled around, so I made my way back home. Alone. As usual. I’m thinking it is time to change my luck. We’ll see how that works out for me.

Time to shower up now and get ready for another night on the town. Those girls at Hideaway Bar aren’t going to feed themselves. That’s because they know I’m coming.

I had some unexpected company for my Sunday stroll. Bhel messaged me asking if she and a friend could join me. Me being me, I asked, “for an orgy?” But no, it was just the walk they were interested in. As it turned out, I may as well have been alone–the girls yakked in Tagalog the whole way, and most of the time, they were slow-poking fifty yards behind me. Not that I cared all that much, I was getting my steps in; that’s what matters.

I did the usual roundabout through the Naugsol valley, over to Govic, through Santa Monica, and back to Barretto–a little over 8K altogether.

I only took one photo during the hike; I’ve done it so many times there is really nothing new to see, but I had a glance into the future from my Govic highway vantage point.

We finished the hike at Sit-n-Bull, where I treated my companions to lunch.

I was in for a bit of a shock when I discovered that Bhel’s friend is a waitress at Sit-n-Bull. She knew me as a customer, but I didn’t recognize her at all. That’s a problem I have with my feeble brain these days–when I see someone outside of their usual context, I usually don’t recognize them. I get greeted by people on the street all the time, and I have no clue how they know me. Ah well, I’ve got the generic nod and “how ya been?” down pat these days.

In the afternoon, I prepared for my feeding day at Hideaway Bar by baking a chocolate cake. On the way there, I ordered a pizza at Shamboli’s and picked up a roast chicken at Chooks to Go.

I had a friendly chat with Gary, one of the Hideaway regulars. It turns out he reads my blog and claims to like it. Well, it is nice to have fans, but it does somewhat deflate the idea that I have some anonymity here. It’s okay; I’ll continue to call them as I see them; no turning back now!

I stopped by IDM and had a couple more beers with Martin and Chris. Yes, I bought Agnes a drink too. While there, I got a message from Lydell asking me where I was. I smilingly responded, “It Doesn’t Matter.” Unfortunately, she was familiar with the name and told me to enjoy myself at IDM. Oh, well.

I decided to surprise Lydell with a visit to Snackbar. Turns out, the surprise was on me. She didn’t seem particularly excited to see me, but when I bought her a drink, she dutifully sat down next to me. And ignored me. Damn, I wish she cared about me as much as she seemed to love her phone. Anyway, I haven’t really said much about our “relationship” here because I don’t really have a clue what she is thinking and feeling. But I took her actions last night to be a clear indication that I am wasting my time. So, I’ll act accordingly and waste my time on someone else.

Oh, as I walked down the highway on my way to Snackbar, I encountered not one but two street-walking prostitutes. That’s something you rarely see in Barretto. They were actually both pretty cute, but I wasn’t tempted. When you bring a freelancing stranger into your home, nothing good comes of it. If I were going to go that route, I’d get a hotel room to take care of business. Much safer, though, to just take a girl out of the bar where there is some accountability for their behavior, not to mention the STD tests they are required to get on a regular basis.

I guess thinking about that Real McCoys television show got me wondering about where I was when I watched it way back then. And in a mind-boggling revelation, I actually remembered my address: 6152 Chickasaw Drive, Westminster, CA 92683. We lived in a subdivision called Indian Village (all the streets were named after Native American tribes). I’d never Googled an address before, but by golly, when I did, I found this:

I decided to look up the first house I purchased as a young father of two back in 1980.

So bizarre that I can’t remember things that matter, but useless info like old addresses is readily accessible. Maybe it’s a vestige of my long-ago life as a letter carrier.

And here I am on the other side of the world.