One of the few Tagalog words I recognize, mostly because I hear it all the time.
Baliw [noun] crazy person; deranged person; psycho; lunatic
[adjective] crazy; nuts
At first, I thought they were commenting on the color of my eyes; it sounds a lot like “blue,” if blue had two syllables. Why the girls call me crazy is a mystery. Kind of.
Anyway, things didn’t get too crazy last night. Fed the Hideaway girls pizza, and for dessert, I baked up a batch of cupcakes.
I stayed a little longer at Hideaway than usual (I think Joy had four lady drinks instead of the usual three), but I always start craving a change of venue, so I headed up the highway.
I spent the early hours of darkness at The Green Room, where I had TWO coupons from the SOB to expend: “buy a lady drink and get two customer drinks” and the usual “buy one, get one” bargain. I also had dinner delivered from Sit-n-Bull– a most excellent burrito. A pleasant enough evening, then I was home shortly after 8:00.
For breakfast this morning, I did some leftovers from yesterday’s baking exploits:
This is Hash Monday, so I didn’t want to expend my limited quantity of energy on a long morning walk, but I did take a stroll through the neighborhood. My future residence was on my mind, so I took some photos from various perspectives.
Yep, this post was even lamer than usual. But on the bright side, future posts will seem more thrilling by comparison. Guenther is the Hare today, and I expect the usual life-threatening excitement. I will see how far I get before the inevitable bailing out.
Come on back tomorrow; it’s bound to get better.
but I always start craving a change of venue, so I headed up the highway
Gotcher motor runnin’?
Lookin’ for adventure and whatever comes your way?
Excellent.
Good thing you said those were oatmeal cookies. I was wondering why someone had put cupcakes on top of Korean bibimbap.
I hope you end up in that house, and that the house doesn’t give you too many problems. Soon you’ll be known as Old Man McCrarey who lives up on the hill, sittin’ out front with a shotgun laid across his lap and two vicious dogs guarding the back. No one fucks with Mean John. The local ladies might have called him “gwapo” once, but these days, he’s an angry, dried-up slice of beef jerky who don’t take shit from no one, and he’s had it up to here with those deadbeat fuckers who never pay back his loans.
HaHa, yeah, I guess I was born to be wild.
It’s true; my cookies don’t look like cookies. My oven won’t hold two cookie sheets, and one isn’t enough for the dough batch (I’m also too lazy to bake two separate batches). So, I basically wind up with one massive cookie that I’ll cut down to size after baking. The cookies also come up soft and crumbly, but that’s the way I like it.
Yeah, like the grumpy old man Clint Eastwood portrayed in Gran Torino. Get off my lawn! Foreigners aren’t allowed to own guns here, though, so I’ll have to make do with a scowl and loud voice.