I got lucky last night! No, not in THAT way, but still. Here’s how it went down.
I had promised Nikki, the waitress at Whiskey Girl I drank with on Thursday, that I’d bring the brownies she’d been craving on Saturday. So, I baked up a batch before heading out. Whiskey Girl doesn’t open until 6:00, and I didn’t want to wait that long for liquid refreshment, so I made Sloppy Joe’s my first stop.
I arrived a little before five and was surprised to see so few customers and no one I knew. The music was playing loud, but at least the playlist was classic rock that I could enjoy. I started into my downing San Mig Zeros routine and ignored my waitress’s not-so-subtle hints that she was thirsty for a drink commission. I’m really trying to up my game in that regard. Anyhoo, around about 5:30, the Sit-n-Bull waitress came by, so I ordered a burrito for me and some lumpia to share with the girls. I also relented and sprang for a lady drink for the waitress. When the food arrived, I started to chow down, and my waitress friend informed me she was off-duty at six and going home. Ah, so much for my dinner party. She didn’t share the lumpia either. Lesson learned. Or, knowing me, maybe not.
I ordered my last beer and paid my tab. Just before I finished my beer, Jim came in and joined me at my table. He plays golf on Saturday and had been drinking at other venues all afternoon. I told him I was heading out to Whiskey Girl and invited him to join me, and he indicated he would come by later. When I arrived at WG, my regular gal Jenn escorted me to my table, and my backup Kim was close behind. Well, Jenn was there first, and I gently let Kim know I wouldn’t be buying them both lady drinks all night. I sensed a slight attitude shift, but she continued to provide good service.
The owner of Whiskey Girl was in town and throwing a big party for his customers last night. The festivities included a raffle drawing for cash once an hour. The first drawing was at 8:00 with a 1000 peso prize. The amount would double every hour until 10:00. There was also a big pot for a pool tournament scheduled to begin at 9:00. The same guy also owns Voodoo and La Oficina, so he had some select dancers from those bars join the Whiskey Girl crew for the night. It’s good I got there when I did because, by 7:00, the place was getting packed. Some familiar faces were there, including Dr. Jo and her husband Chris.
Oh, and what about Nikki and the brownies? Nikki didn’t show up for work, so she missed out again. The other gals seemed to enjoy them a lot, though. So, her loss.
Jim eventually arrived and sat next to me and Jenn. He relieved me of some pressure by buying Kim and another waitress lady drinks, and we settled in to enjoy the party atmosphere. Every time you purchased a drink (or a lady drink), you received a raffle coupon. By the first drawing, I had accumulated a nice little stack with my name on them. Sure enough, when the first drawing took place, they called out “Gwapo!” (my bar name). I walked to the stage and happily collected my prize.
Jim was done for the night, and I wasn’t far behind. Didn’t want to miss my 9:00 p.m. bedtime! I gave Jenn half of my winnings and tipped Kim 170 pesos (the same amount I would have paid for the lady drink I would have bought her eventually, but she got it all), and everyone seemed happy when I left. When I said goodbye to the group at the table where Dr. Jo was seated, I announced, “I’m leaving early because my doctor says I need to drink in moderation.” That got a laugh. I had to walk all the way to the 7/11 to catch a trike, but I made it home safe and mostly sound.
In other news, I heard from my current landlord yesterday, and he has found a replacement tenant for me. I was happy to hear that because I felt guilty about breaking my lease. My landlord asked if I would mind answering some questions for the incoming resident, and naturally, I agreed. We got hooked up on Messenger, and he is coming by on Monday to chat and look around.
I move into the new place in two weeks and began packing some stuff I don’t use much yesterday. I’d forgotten about this Hash shirt I never wear:
I mentioned yesterday that I’ve been sharing mask and vaxx memes to show support and solidarity with the growing chorus of voices saying we won’t get fooled again. Unlike during the scamdemic, Facebook hasn’t been blocking them. Yet. Still, they are causing some of my liberal friends to offer rebuttals–all saying I’m stupid. I just respond, “thank you for your feedback.” Here’s today’s version:
I don’t follow many expat vloggers, but this guy is one of the better ones. I just happened to come across this account of how he discovered his Filipina fiancée was cheating on him. Some of the circumstances were a little too close to things I’ve experienced for comfort. Anyway, he offers some good insights and advice. Give it a look if you are so inclined.
Let’s end today’s post on a lighter note:
Off topic: I’ve been watching a lot of this “Green Berets React” channel on YouTube, and the term “buddy fucker” came up. So I now know the term comes from the military, and it refers to the guy in your platoon who is most apt to fuck you over—to rat you out, run off in a crisis, or otherwise betray you. So that’s a buddy fucker. Hell of a Hash name.
Oh, and what about Nikki and the brownies? Nikki didn’t show up for work, so she missed out again. The other gals seemed to enjoy them a lot, though. So, her loss.
I get the feeling that Nikki’s not the brightest bulb. Darling Nikki.
In other news, I heard from my current landlord yesterday, and he has found a replacement tenant for me. I was happy to hear that because I felt guilty about breaking my lease.
Congratulations. Everything is proceeding as I have foreseen.
I don’t wear it because that depiction of the spiritual adviser is just a tad too crude for public consumption.
Ah, that American prudery. You see images like that all over the place in Europe. Visit the big cities in France or Germany. I bet that, if you wore that shirt more often in the PI,
no one would even notice what was on it unless they were staring hard at you.
re: mask/science meme
I understand colloquially what’s meant by “believe in science,” but real, hard-nosed scientists would argue that science isn’t about belief at all—it’s about evidence and proof. This is a pedantic point, of course, and a philosopher could argue that science nevertheless includes elements of faith (especially if knowledge is defined as “justified true belief”), e.g., faith that there exists a reality outside of my head, and that effects follow causes (which may not even be true at the quantum level).
That lying/cheating video is now in my queue. I’ll watch it soon.
re: “Worcestershire” being hard to say
We Amurricans tend to say “WIS-tuh-sheer,” but I think many Brits will just say “Wooster,” with the “oo” sounding like the “oo” in “book,” not the “oo” in “food.” In Korean, the phrase “W… sauce” is hangeulized as 우스터소스/u-seu-teo so-seu, i.e., “Wooster Sauce.”
OK, I watched the “bad Filipina” video, and I thought what the guy had to say at this moment totally applies to your situation. Transcript:
You’ve gotta think, “Okay, I’ve had this happen four times in a row. Maybe my selection process needs to be a bit more refined.” If all the women you keep running into are bad apples, either you’re lookin’ in the wrong place, or you’re getting led astray by their looks, and you’re not paying attention to their character. It’s like, “As long as they’re pretty, of course they’ve got to be of good character.” No, that’s not true.
The guy is at pains to say that your bad experience with Filipinas should not be extended to apply to all Filipinas, i.e., there are good eggs out there.
This is very similar to what I’ve been saying the whole time: find a better-quality woman. Don’t do the typical expat thing and confine yourself to the trashy end of the spectrum, especially if you’re looking for a relationship with substance. I say “typical expat” because, as seems to be true everywhere in Asia, a lot of foreign guys—not just you—end up following the same fucking path because they have no goddamn common sense. And thus it is that trash follows trash, slut follows slut, scam follows scam, over and over, in what I’ve described as samsara (the painful wheel of existence in Hinduism and Buddhism).
Even you have shown some awareness of your situation with your repeated jokes of “looking for love in all the wrong places.” True love isn’t going to be transactional, especially not on the monetary level. It’s also not going to be a one-way street of servitude—”I just want someone who will take care of me,” which is nothing more than a selfish thought. True love will mean things like commitment, sacrifice, and other-orientation. Partnership.
Alas, you also have a history of being exposed to wisdom, nodding yes to it, then not internalizing it (whether we’re talking relationships or grammar!). This is why the same mistakes happen over and over. Breaking out of samsara means actually internalizing and practicing the life-lessons you encounter. It means really learning from your mistakes and doing better next time instead of constantly being a prisoner of your urges. It means changing. You don’t seem willing to do that. When I harped about the continued posting of photos of other women while you attempt this committed relationship with Swan, you’ve rationalized and justified in an attempt to maintain a self-image that does not correspond to reality. Nothing will change until you can see yourself more honestly.
The last bit of advice the guy gives is a bit dangerous because it can cut two ways: he ends his video by saying “Don’t let it make you bitter,” referring to having a string of bad experiences with Filipina women. It’s not a bad idea to stay positive where possible, but I wish the guy had placed more emphasis, in the video’s last moment, on the idea that you should definitely learn from your experiences, gaining in caution, in wisdom, in emotional maturity. If you remain psychotically happy after every bad experience, you’re never going to learn anything.
My father is a good example of someone who’s so emotionally retarded that he can suffer a tragedy, then be his usual bouncy, happy self in just a couple of days. Nothing penetrates his psyche deeply. He learns nothing fundamental from any of his experiences. As Matt Groening cynically put it in a Life in Hell comic years ago, when describing “The 22 Stages of Heartbreak,” the final stage (for men) is “Ready for further punishment.” We men can all be stupid, each in our own wonderfully unique ways, but in most cases, the stupidity is utterly unnecessary.
Kev, yes, when I watched that video, I thought that sounded like the advice I’ve heard from you. Understanding the wisdom of the words is one thing; changing your behavior accordingly is a whole other level of challenge. I’ve recognized for quite some time that the common denominator in all my failed relationships has been me. Until I change, nothing will. That damn samsara has me by the balls and won’t let go, it seems. Maybe it is stubbornness or stupidity (or both) that keeps me on this road to failure. I’ve also come to see that selfishness is a major character flaw that I’m going to have to learn to overcome if I truly desire success in my quest for love. I won’t lie, though, when I read the words ”I just want someone who will take care of me,” I felt myself nodding my head and thinking, “maybe that’s good enough.” Perhaps I’m hopeless and unworthy.
I should be getting royalties from that Groening cartoon. I’m going to take the next step of sharing a roof with Swan and see what happens. But you are right; if I don’t change, nothing will. I know what I need to do; time will tell if I am willing and able to escape the samsara and free myself from the cycle of failure. I have my doubts, but I’ll give making the needed and necessary changes in my thinking and actions another shot. Win or lose, it is on me. I know that now.
I sincerely do appreciate your advice and encouragement, even if it appears I’m incapable of following it. I have a better understanding of what I need to do to achieve the outcome I desire. Thanks for that.
Interesting background on the “Buddy Fucker” term, I wasn’t aware of that context and always thought of it as a sexual perversion gag. His girlfriend is named “Fuck Buddy.” Anyway, he’s a good guy, a veteran, and he also worked as a contractor in some Middle East war zones, so I expect, in Hash fashion, the name is intended to be insulting/sarcastic and not based in reality.
I’m not sure it is so much about prudery, but I don’t want to be handing out cookies to children wearing a shirt with an erect penis displayed. Call it what you will. 🙂 Sometimes I feel shy wearing my “Goddamn ATM” shirt, thinking some may be offended by the curse word, but that doesn’t stop me (I wore it on my walk yesterday, in fact). Once, a trike driver started laughing and gave me a high five, but otherwise, no stranger has commented. The bargirls that saw it (or the picture on my Facebook) think it is funny.
Yeah, that’s the problem: people want to act like science is a religion. I hate the term “the science is settled” because that’s the opposite of what science is supposed to be all about. Some of these memes I share do not accurately reflect my views, but I do want to get the word out so people will resist the next wave of mandates. It’s also nice to make liberal heads explode.
What? Worcester isn’t a town in the Shire? Who knew? I’m sure I pronounce wrong, more of a WAR sound. I rarely use the sauce so never have to ask for it, thankfully!