Six Thai

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Soi Six here in Pattaya, Thailand, to be precise. That’s the street where I hung out and quaffed some brews last night. But let’s start with the beginning of the day, shall we?

So, I’m taking care of my morning business when I see that my Fitbit has gone black. All my efforts at reviving it proved fruitless. I decided to check out a mall I’d seen on one of my walks in search of a replacement smartwatch.

Central Festival Mall from the front
And from the rear off of Beach Road
And from a patio on the 3rd floor
And an inside view. One of the nicest malls I’ve ever visited.
Mission accomplished. Eventually.

I say eventually because I arrived at the mall right about 10 a.m. only to discover it opened at eleven. So, I walked up the road a bit and found a restaurant for a late breakfast.

It must be Thai because they used ham instead of bacon. And what I thought was a coleslaw side turned out to be grated cabbage. Still, it was good enough for me.

There was a nice supermarket at the mall where I could finally secure some underarm deodorant–none of the convenience stores I checked had any.

I took a 200 baht taxi ride back to the hotel to have time for a nap and to clean up before my doctor’s appointment at 3:15.

Reader Brian had commented that the Pattaya International Hospital was one of the good ones for foreigners. It turns out it is on the same street as my hotel (Soi 4), about two blocks away. I was impressed with how clean, organized, and efficient it was compared to my experience in the Philippines. My appointment was for a consult with an ENT, and I was called in to see him right on schedule. I told him about my recent breathing issues and blocked sinuses. He stuck a scope up my nose and cringed at the image on the screen. That was a little disconcerting. He confirmed what I had already been told–I have stage four blockage from enlarged nodules that must be removed surgically. He took it a step further, saying he’d remove some of the bone so the nodules would not regrow. I told him I was reluctant to have surgery requiring general anesthesia with my COPD. He acknowledged that could be an issue, suggesting I have the surgery performed in a hospital with an ICU to monitor my breathing during the operation better. He recommended I return to the US for the procedure. He also confirmed that my sinus blockage likely affected my blood oxygen, especially when sleeping and breathing exclusively through my mouth. So, he gave me a prescription that may provide temporary relief, but he cautioned it is not a long-term solution. I need the surgery. The bill, including meds, came to 3,440 baht (right at $100), so about twice what I’d pay back home.

With that unpleasant business out of the way, I headed back out to a marketplace I had seen near the mall. I needed to shop for pasalubong for all my Filipina “friends” back home and a suitcase to carry the gifts on the plane.

I was there in the afternoon; at least half of the shops were open.
I bought this suitcase first and then filled it with the pasalubong gifts as I shopped the market.
I just hope it is enough for everyone.

Another 200 baht cab ride to the hotel, where I stored the goodies and prepared for my night on the town. I decided to get dinner out of the way first and wanted to try that place across the street from my hotel.

The restaurant of which I speak.
It appears everyone in the world is welcome.
The view of my hotel from my perch at the bar.
As I perused the menu, I narrowed my choices down to four possibilities. These…
And these. I decided on the chicken and broccoli. I like both of those ingredients.
I was surprised to be served this tasty appetizer of pineapple and grapes.
Dinner is served, and it was yummy!

After finishing my meal (I even used my spoon to get all of that sauce in my belly), it was time to set out for my evening of exploration.

Destination: the infamous Soi 6 bar district. I had read about this area on some of the forums I follow, and it is very popular with the type of tourist who pays for girls to sleep with them. That’s not my style (yeah, I pay in other ways, I know) but I wanted to have a look and see for myself.
It’s still early, but from this end of the Soi, it looks pretty tame.
Hey, Wet Spot is one of my hangouts back in Barretto.
Something seems different about this one, though. Actually, it was one of the calmer places on the Soi. I decided to have my first beer here once I completed my reconnaissance mission.
In Barretto, we have a Blue Butterfly. It is not stocked with hotties like these, though.
By golly, there’s even a Queen Victoria here, just like back home. Well, only in name.
One bar after another, with no room in between.
This is the far end of Soi 6
We used to have a Lollipop in Barretto, but that’s where Sit-n-Bull resides now.
I just wasn’t horny enough for most of these bars.
I did have a cold one at Wet Spot. Alas, as I have discovered in most of the bars I’ve visited, the girls’ English level is nearly non-existent. Yeah, shame on me for not speaking any Thai, but joking with my waitresses is what I like to do in the bars, and that’s not an option here.
This bar made me think of my mountain mama friend back home, MJ.
The girls come in all sizes–small, medium, or large. Take your pick!
I don’t know how they come up with some of these bar names. How are you going to Repent when you are next door to Wicked?
And if you Flirt, you are bound to get Horny.
The view from my streetside seat in a bar that I don’t remember the name of now. I only sat down in three bars altogether and bought one lady drink all night.
It’s low season for tourists, but as you can see in these photos, there must be fifty girls for every guy who ventures down the street. I don’t like the feeling of being surrounded by a bunch of thirsty bargirls. Yeah, I have my favorites back home that I take care of, but being a stranger here creates a whole different vibe.

So, I’m glad I had a look at the Soi 6 bar scene, but I won’t be going back. Just not my thing. This morning on my walkabout, I found myself on Soi 7, and it was full of wide-open spaces-type beer bars. That’s more to my liking, and maybe I’ll get a chance to swing by there again when the bars are open.

I had one more beer on Beach Road as I headed back to the hotel; I might have had a second if the service didn’t suck so bad. And then, as I approached my hotel, I saw my new favorite restaurant and thought it was fitting to begin and end my evening there.

And what the hell, I am on vacation after all.
They also feature a handy urinal for the business inherent in a night on the town.

I’m going to meet up with Dave and Jo this evening, and we are going to try the place on the roof of my hotel called Virgin. Since we’ve never been there, I guess we are.

I hear they had some excitement back home in the Philippines today:

A little shaking but no damage from what I’ve heard.

I wasn’t completely satisfied with my Thai pun today, so let me give you this:

I did a double-take when I saw this. *ahem*

Okay, cleanse your palate with this one while I go get showered up and ready for another evening out in lovely Pattaya.

Cum on! That’s a good one!

Fit to be Thaied

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A full and mostly fun Tuesday started with a walk to, well, Walking Street. It was about a 7K round trip. Oddly enough, even though it was a flat street walk, I had some severe breathing issues that left me feeling light-headed. I had to stop twice to sit down and try and catch my breath. When I returned to the hotel, my blood oxygen was 89. My deep breathing exercise increased it to 91, but that’s still not good. I’m back in my usual mid-90s today and feeling better. Still, I made a doctor’s appointment for this afternoon at Pattaya International Hospital (conveniently located on the same street as my hotel) to try and gain some insights into what’s happening and what I might do about it. I’ll let you know how that goes tomorrow.

Here’s some of what I saw along the way to Walking Street:

The latest in Thai fashion.
All the cool cats are getting stoned.
You are never far from a pot stand. Now I was a big-time pothead between the ages of 15 and 25, but I can honestly say I’ve not even been tempted to smoke a doobie here. IF I were to try some weed again, I think I’d prefer ingesting it in a brownie.
And there it is, the infamous Walking Street. Of course, there is little debauchery to be found during the daylight hours. After dark, things get more than a little wild. Or at least they used to. I noticed a lot of bars were advertising sexy Russian females as dancers. I’m not sure how many Russian expats and tourists there are these days; it appears from my observations that a wave of immigrants from India has displaced them.
This guy was rockin’ it!
I stopped to rest and have some lunch on the way back to my hotel. I’m not wanting to brag about it, but that pork dish came right off the Thai menu. I enjoyed it, too!
I stopped at a convenience store for a sweet snack to take back to the room. I don’t think it gets any more Thai than that; hell, I couldn’t even read what I was getting. Tasted a lot like chocolate chip cookies, though.

I took a nap and wrote yesterday’s post, then got ready to head out for a rendezvous with an old dart buddy from Barretto.

Good to see you again, Steve.

Steve returned home at the beginning of the scamdemic and got stuck there. When he was ready to return, the Philippines was still locked down for unvaccinated folks like him. So, he basically said, “fuck that,” and moved to Pattaya. He seems to be doing well here. Steve gave up drinking years ago, but since he plays darts, he knows the local bars (at least some of them). He graciously agreed to give me a tour of the bar district near his home. My friends from Barretto, Dave and Jo, also joined in the fun.

We met up at Steve’s home bar, I-Rovers, which is in the SK Metro bar district. We then strolled down Soi Buakhao, an area adjacent to SK Metro. But what blew me away was a bar area called Tree Town that I’d totally missed on my 2016 visit (if it was even there then). The number of bars in this town is mind-boggling. Even a guy like me who goes out every night would need months to visit them all, and my liver would probably fail before I completed the quest. I’m sure most folks just find the handful of places that suit them and become regulars. This is a tourist town, though, so I guess there are enough thirsty (and horny) visitors to keep these bars in business during high season.

Hey, it’s one of those street food places I’ve been hearing about!
This guy seems to be green with envy for the good time I’m having.
That’s me nearly every frickin’ night.
Some of the names they come up with for these places are a hoot.
Soi Buakhao
More of that food on the street.
I guess if these two bars merged it would make for one pretty ass.
This Tree Town area really blew me away.
Who says you can’t find Joy in a bar?
“Hey baby, where have you been all my life?”
I guess if you are going to have street food, it only makes sense to have street drinks too.
We have a Voodoo bar in Barretto, too!
All that walking around made us thirsty.
Why do you think they call it “dope”?
I felt like a king pissing in these golden urinals. This was the fanciest bar we visited, and they had gals dancing in t-backs and fishnet stockings right on the table in front of us—not my thing, but well done for those who enjoy it.
It was getting late and time for me to make that 3K trek back to the hotel. I had yet to have a proper dinner. This place wasn’t an option because I wanted to try a little place I’d seen across the street from where I’m staying.

Alas, when I sat down to order, I was told the kitchen had just closed (it was 10:30). They said I could stay and drink, but I wanted to eat something before calling it a night. I remembered a place nearby that was open 24 hours, so I headed there.

Don’t be a hater. I’m just an American craving a taste of home. I’ll try the Thai place across the street again tonight.

And that was my Tuesday.

Thaiing one On-On

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I survived my first outing with the Pattaya Hash House Harriers. It was quite a bit different than how we do things in Subic–some of it I liked, some not so much. They do utilize the ice-sitting, and I got to experience that cold goodness twice in the after-circle. I say after circle because Pattaya does a pre-circle as well. In that one, they discuss the coming trail, go over some Hash business, remind people of the rules, initiate virgins, and punish violators (like the fool who wore new shoes to the Hash). I didn’t like waiting around forty-five minutes for the start of the pre-circle at 4:00. We were out in the countryside, and all the locals knew to bring a chair, but I just had to stand around with nothing to do and nowhere to sit. Yeah, yeah, I shouldn’t be such a whiner.

I was able to purchase this colorful Hash shirt to add to my collection.

It was an “A to A” Hash, which means the trail started and finished in the same location. And that location was over twenty kilometers from Pattaya out in farm country. They had a short and long trail, and of course, I opted for the short option, which was just under 5K. I walked to Hash home bar to catch a “bus, adding another 3+K to my day. So, I’ll start the Hash story with that adventure.

I used Google Maps to plot my course to the meeting place at Buffalo Bar. The problem was it didn’t clearly identify the street names I needed to take. So, I used the Waze app to get directions. The trouble with Waze is that it plots a course for automobiles, meaning one-way streets in the wrong direction aren’t options, even if they would be the best route for a walker. So, I tried navigating around that and screwed things up several times.
My misadventures are captured here, although I did eventually reach my destination.
Along the way I saw a couple of shrines like this honoring Buddha.
Here’s another one.
Came across this Hard Rock Cafe on Beach Road. Maybe I’ll pay them a visit in my quest for Thai food.
Beach Road
This is a “Bhat Bus,”–Thailand’s version of the Jeepney. These were the type of buses that carried us to the Hash trail location.
This building looked interesting enough to take a picture of for some reason.
Ah, the name of that building above.
In my wanderings, I came across this eerily familiar place. Yes, I visited the Pussy Bar back in 2016 and discovered there wasn’t a pussy in the place. I wrote about that experience in a post called “Lola.”
And at last, I arrived at my intended destination, Buffalo Bar.
Where I was joined by fellow Subic hashers, Dave and Jo.
We still had 45 minutes before the first “bus” was scheduled to leave, so I had the waitress order me a chicken quesadilla from the Mexican joint next door. There we no local food options available here, promise! I can honestly say this quesadilla was absolutely the worst I’ve ever tasted. I only managed to down two slices.
The inside of Buffalo Bar.
The route to the start of the Hash trail–23K from Buffalo Bar. Subic Hashers are lucky because we can hit the hills right out the backdoor. Urban Hashes like Pattaya have to travel out of town to find a trail.
Loaded up in the Bhat Bus for the forty-minute ride to the Hash start. It held ten of us in relative comfort.
And we have finally arrived. I’m not sure what the actual number of attendees was, but I’d guess seventy or more. Much larger than the Subic Hash, but then, Pattaya is a much larger city.
Thanks for having us!
The pre-Circle. One of the rules is you can’t photograph at the after Circle. I don’t know why.
And we are FINALLY On-On!
Way off on the horizon, you can just see the Pattaya skyline.
Let’s get it done!
I didn’t mind following her behind, I mean behind her. She was on my bus, but I guess her watch was broken because she wouldn’t give me the time of day.
The trail was mostly flat, but there were occasional challenges, like coming down this embankment.
Through the fields we go.
Those houses ahead were abandoned. In fact, throughout the hike I never saw a local resident or occupied building.
A woodsy stretch
Then back to the wide open spaces.
I think I’d miss the mountains if I lived here.
Even without challenging terrain, I was huffing and puffing a bit along the way. I tried to do my deep breathing exercises, and it helped some.
Marching ever onward
The trail was actually very well marked, but we had to backtrack a couple of times when we veered off course.
Through the palms we go
I can see clearly now.
The farmer wasn’t in the dell; I hope he didn’t mind that we were.
The end is near
The final push
And back to our base camp. Laughed at the ad on this Bhat Bus.
The trail started where it ended, I just forget to turn on my tracker at the beginning.

The after Circle was okay, the usual Hash stuff, but the songs weren’t as raunchy as we sing in Subic. They had a raffle and I won this:

Are these authentic Thai biscuits?

So, we did the usual beer drinking, although they didn’t have Zero beer, so I did the San Miguel Light. More alcohol and calories, but I’m on vacation, damn it! So, I was feeling no pain when we boarded the busses back to Pattaya and another Hash bar called I-Rovers.

That would be it. I need to find it again tonight. Tonight I’m meeting an old dart friend from Barretto who lives here now.
I *think* I only had one beer at I-Rovers, but I took a picture of my dessert. As good as it looks.

Well, I was more than a little drunk at this point, and I had no other way back to my hotel than my feet, so I headed out. Walked through an interesting bar area along the way. I need to go back at some point and check it out more thoroughly.

Looks like my kind of place! And I just spotted the clue about location on the sign–LK Metro is a famous bar area here. I’ll be back to explore!
And these marijuana shops are all over the place since pot was legalized last year.

Stop! You’re killing me!
I’ve heard about the kink in Thailand–girls with something “extra.” No thanks!
Another pot shop
Talk about getting high!

Anyway, I found my way to the hotel, safe and sound. I miss having my trike driver friends around, though. I need to be more careful in the future; stumbling around in the dark in a strange city is not a good idea.

More adventures to come.

Thaied up and bound…

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…to have fun. At least, that’s my plan. If getting here is half the battle, I made it relatively unscathed. Here are the gritty details.

I was a fool when it came to packing. Rather than suck it up and pay for a checked bag, I figured I could squeeze everything into my carry-on suitcase and do my laptop and meds in my backpack. Turns out I had to overstuff both bags, and my carry-on was too heavy, so I was required to check it and was charged 3000 pesos for the privilege. I should have just brought a larger suitcase to begin with. And now the problem is compounded because I’m already getting besieged with requests for pasalubong, the tradition (more like expectation) that a traveler returns bearing gifts from his destination. My plan now is to purchase a larger suitcase here and use it to bring my carry-on, dirty clothes, and gifts back with me to the Philippines.

As I expected it would, Cebu Pacific Airlines sucks. Typical budget carrier, you pay for your ticket, and everything else is extra. Like a checked bag. Or a drink of water. I’ve never been in such a cramped seating configuration either. My knees were jammed against the seat in front of me, and when I lowered the tray table, it landed on top of my belly. A very uncomfortable three hours in the air. I’ll be loathed to patronize this carrier after my return flight.

Another fucked up thing that didn’t affect me personally was the hassle my friend Dave’s girl went through at immigration. This was her first time doing international travel, and the immigration agent almost caused them to miss the flight by conducting a lengthy interview to determine whether she was going to Thailand as part of a human trafficking scheme. She is in her 40s, for chrissake, and has been with Dave for years. The things this government puts its people through are disgusting. Anyway, I was relieved to see them board the flight just a couple of minutes before the door closed.

Getting through immigration in Bangkok was a breeze. A photo, fingerprints, and a stamp in my passport. Yay! Dave had arranged a car and driver for the 100+ kilometer trip from the airport to Pattaya. We arrived about 1:00 a.m., and as regular readers know, that’s the latest I’ve stayed up in a LONG time. I still woke up at 5:30 this morning and went about my internet routine, then took a brief walk around the neighborhood and had some breakfast.

I’m staying at the Pattaya Sea View Hotel. The room is large and comfortable. When I checked in the receptionist advised that the free breakfast buffet didn’t apply to me since I’d received a discounted rate when I booked. Fuck your buffet anyway!
I don’t see no sea in this view from my room either. Yep, they stuck me on the backside of the building.
No big deal; the beach is right around the corner.

Oh yeah, they drive on the right side of the road here. I was reminded of that when I crossed Beach Road this morning and looked in the wrong direction before stepping out. Oops!

The beach view to the left of me…
…to the right…
…and behind me on Beach Road.
I had breakfast at a place called Beachfront.
Coffee, juice and toast…
And an omelet with meats I wasn’t expecting (and didn’t eat, well, except for the bacon slice).

I’m still getting the exchange rate down in my head, but the breakfast above was 160 Bhat which equates to $4.60 US, not bad I suppose.

And here are some traditional Thai dishes I may (or may not) be experiencing during my visit. That menu is from the rooftop lounge at my hotel named “Virgin.”

On the subject of virginity, I ain’t one. I made a trip here back in 2016. Here’s how it started.

I will lose my Pattaya Hash virginity today. I’ve already mapped out the way to the meet-up location. From there, we’ll catch a bus taking us somewhere, and hopefully, I’ll find my way back.
Today they are celebrating Independence Day in the Philippines. I thought it was interesting that they count their independence from 1898 when by some miracle they were freed from the yoke of the evil Spanish occupiers. And 50 years later the Americans granted independence, but let’s not talk about that, right?
Yeah, why not? What’s the worst that can happen?

Speaking of worst-case scenarios, so far, at least, the breathing seems to be going okay. Wearing a mask on the plane (yeah, the Philippine government still requires that nonsense) wasn’t good, but I survived. I got my nebulizer set up in my room, and I’ll carry my portable one with me on the Hash, just in case.

And what’s a LTG post without a dose of humor?

Tomorrow I’ll have a report on the Hash, and I also plan to get out and see more of the city. So far, I am really enjoying the vibe here. Walking the beach path this morning, I saw more Western-looking folks (mostly men, of course) than Thais. I wonder what that’s all about?

Stay tuned.

My last night

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I won’t have another night out in Barretto for over a week, assuming I survive Thailand. I’m a little paranoid about my breathing issues and being alone in a strange land surrounded by strangers. Welp, I guess that’s why they call it an adventure. My bags are packed, and I’m ready to go!

Mary came by my place for lunch, her allowance, and some groceries I picked up for her on my last trip to Royal. We had some dessert, and I walked her down to the highway so she could catch a Jeepney home. She’s working at John’s place now, so she needed to drop her things off, change clothes, then head back into town for her 5 p.m. shift.

It was only 3:30 when she got on the Jeep, but I figured I’d get to work on my Saturday night since I was in town already. I started out at Sloppy Joe’s and ran into my hiking mates, Scott and Steve.

Oh, yeah, Chris was there, too. They were refreshing themselves after a golf outing in San Antonio.
That’s my Sloppy Joe’s waitress standing beside the lady drink I bought her. How special is she? Well, that’s a double drink (250 pesos), something I very rarely purchase. I made an exception in her case because when I asked her if she preferred two single drinks or one double, she wanted the double. And it wasn’t about the drink commission; she said she wanted to get her favorite beverage (I think that’s cranberry). So, one double saved me money and made her happy. Win-win!

After a couple of beers (maybe three), I wanted to get something to eat, and where better to dine than John’s place? It was a few minutes before five, and Mary was going through the door as I approached. I followed her in and surprised her. I was headed up to the third-floor bar area and saw John in the second-floor restaurant. He told me he had some changes coming upstairs, starting this weekend. The bar, which has a pool table and not much else other than a nice open-air view, is going to be made into a “real bar” vibe, whatever that means. Maybe he’s going to have GROs and sexy waitresses thirsty for lady drinks? I guess I’ll find out when I get back from Thailand.

The third-floor bar at John’s. I was the only customer up there at first (a couple joined me later and played pool). I usually sit up front for the view, but it was raining and windy, and that area was getting drenched.
The bar seating
I felt like something out of the ordinary (for me), so I went with the chicken enchiladas. They were delicious but had a spicy bite to them. Luckily I had a cold beer to soothe my tongue.

While I was eating I got a message from Joy. She was lamenting that there were no customers (and no lady drinks) in the bar. Given the rain outside, I wasn’t surprised. So, I ordered some Korean-style chicken wings for take-out and paid her a surprise visit.

I was indeed the only customer, so I rang the bell, and all the girls (5 of them) and the bartender got a drink on my tab to help wash down those wings.
If wings could fly, I still think this one would have landed in Joy’s hungry mouth.

With the hunger and thirst satiated at Hideaway, it was time to move on. After some internal debate as I walked, I decided to pay a visit to Cheap Charlies. I was surprised it was so crowded, but my regular crew was available to serve me some company in exchange for the coveted lady drink.

There was Nerissa…
My back rubber, Tina

Alma was on my other side, but she deleted the photo I took of her (she has an out-of-town foreigner “boyfriend,” I hear).

While I was enjoying my time at Cheap Charlies, I got a message from Angie asking if I would be visiting her at Green Room. I’d just seen her the day before at the SOB, but Green Room is right across the highway, so why not. At first, things weren’t too busy, but then a group of high rollers came in and brought most of the girls from Wet Spot with them.

My Green Room tablemates
And the gals that came with the big spender. You really do get what you pay for…
That’s Saya, a Wet Spot dancer who really trips all my triggers. She’s also a friend of Mary (a former classmate), although she is a couple of years older. I’m not sure if you can tell, but I have it on good authority that she wasn’t wearing panties last night.

And that was just about all the fun I could handle for one night. I did pop into Sit-n-Bull hoping for a pecan pie dessert, but alas, they were sold out. So, I settled for a big oatmeal-raisin cookie instead, took it home, and put some vanilla ice cream on top. Not as good as a Krispy Kreme donut, but good enough.

Oh, and I’ve been meaning to share this tidbit that I found hilarious. I have an app on my phone called WhatsApp that I almost never use. A few days ago, I got a message there saying, “Hope I didn’t bother you; how are you today?” I should have known better but answered, “I’m sorry. Who is this?” And this was the response:

I’m sorry for bothering you. I’m Miss Kate, HR Assistant of WPP Company. We are pleased to inform you that we will like to offer you the opportunity to join our team and work with us remotely which can help you earn money every day. Can I tell you more details about it?

Yep, I triggered the spam. Still, I figured I could have some fun with it and answered this way: Nope. I’m rich. I don’t need to work. I’m hoping I can find a girlfriend. Miss Kate didn’t miss a beat:

If you are rich, let me know.

I left it at that but enjoyed the laugh.

It’s raining like mad again today (’tis the season), and I’m meeting my ride to the airport across town. I’ve got a trike driver scheduled to pick me up at the house at 2:00; let’s hope he remembers where I live. Damn, I better pack an umbrella; it might be raining in Thailand too.

Assuming everything goes well, my next post will be from the Land of Smiles. See you on the other side!

The answer is obviously, Yes!

SOBsidy

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I attended the SOB dance competition at Whiskey Girl last night. Big changes are taking place at that bar. The old management is out, and the new owner has his own ideas of what makes for a good bar. He told me the tables in front of the dance floor will be removed and replaced with couch seating. He’s also going to have live music at least once a week. It appears many of the girls who work there are following the old management to a new bar scheduled to open soon down the highway a bit. I don’t know, but at some point, we are going to hit the saturation point with more bars than customers to support them. Time will tell, I suppose.

A good show last night. I subsidized Jen’s salary through multiple lady drinks throughout the contest. She wasn’t there yet when I arrived at 4:30 (the bar is not technically scheduled to open until 5:00). The waitress who served me in her absence told me the “buy one, take one” offer didn’t start until five. No issues; that’s consistent with the five until eight signage at the front door. When Jen brought my first beer after five, she told me the buy one, take one wasn’t in effect because of the SOB. I got a little bit livid and said that’s not what I was told earlier, and it is not what the neon sign outdoors says. She went and consulted with management, and they relented and gave me the special price. Yay!

Good job, Jen!

Oh, and Ashley was dancing with The Green Room team, and I fed her lady drinks as well—another SOBsidy.

That’s Ashley on the left.
Dancers from the seven competing bars gather on stage prior to the start of the show.
Hot Zone hotties on stage
And the Wet Spot team

When the show was over at 8:00, I was done, too. Drank my money’s worth, at least. You might call it an Ernest effort.

“I drink to make other people more interesting” – Ernest Hemingway.
I got a record-breaking response to the pictures of my new shirts that I posted on Facebook. More likes and comments than any other post I can recall. And it was great seeing reactions from people I haven’t heard from in years and years. Thanks again, Kevin!

I spent the morning getting all my paperwork in order for my upcoming trip. That included making copies of my flight itinerary, my hotel confirmation, and the e-travel health pass the Philippine government requires to exit and enter the country. I also booked my onward ticket (one way to Guam) that Immigration requires when you enter the country on a tourist visa. It’s a throwaway ticket that cost me $16, but it shows I’m booked on a flight out of the country before my initial 30-day entry visa expires.

I’m on Cebu Pacific, one of those discount carriers I despise. But they offer the only flight to Bangkok for Angeles/Clark, saving me the dreaded trip to Manila. Cebu Pacific charges crazy prices for checked bags, so I’m attempting to pack for a week in my carry-on. I think I can do it, putting the excess in my backpack. I just checked the Cebu Pacific webpage, and it looks like they will charge me for having more than one carry-on (most airlines I’ve flown consider a small backpack similar to a purse and allow it without additional fees). Ah, well, what will be, will be.

So, that brings me to my last night in Barretto for a week, I’ll be out looking for some interesting people through my beer goggles. In the meantime, here are some of Scott’s photos from yesterday’s hike through Olongapo and SBMA:

The black line is the route we walked (starting on the left side in the middle).
Olongapo’s Kalalake barangay
Entering SBMA
This a pier’s lonely. (yeah, that’s a stretch too far, sorry!)
A pleasant bay walk
Is that thing loaded?
In the summertime, when the weather is hot…
The place we ate. Well, around back by the pool…
That’s why they call it The Lighthouse
The Kalaklan exit from the Subic Bay Metropolitan Authority
The place where I said, “Fuck the Jeepney, let’s take a taxi back to Barretto.”

Let me leave you with a final pun:

Sorry, not sorry.

What’s in the box?

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It’s been a busy 24 hours. Late in the afternoon, I got a message from my ex saying she was back in town and I should visit her bar to welcome her home. I asked what time the festivities began, and while waiting for her response, I baked a batch of brownies for the celebration. Except she never responded. So, I started my beer o’clock excursion at Sloppy Joe’s instead. During beer number two, I finally heard from her saying my friend Johnny had arrived and he was waiting for me. Oh well, why not?

When I arrived, she was seated at a table with several other customers, a couple of whom I recognized. I greeted them and her. I sat with my friend Johnny at an adjacent table. I gave the brownies to my waitress to share with the other girls, and a couple of them joined me for lady drinks. When the guests at my ex’s table departed, I thought she might join me for some chat. Instead, she disappeared into a back room without a word. I now know how Charlie Brown must have felt with Lucy holding the football. Why I keep going back to have my nose rubbed into the fact that I’m nothing to her is a whole other level of stupid. Maybe I’ve finally got the message.

I went to Wet Spot and ordered some food to take home from Sit-n-Bull. Had a nice chat with Daddy Dave while waiting for my food to arrive. I came home, ate, and was in bed by 8:30. I’m not going to lie, my feelings were hurt, and I was in a sour mood. Woke up at midnight panting again. My oximeter read 87, so I nebulized and went back to sleep. I was back up to 93 when I woke up to start my day. I’m thinking that when I sleep, I’m not breathing right–maybe apnea or something caused by the total blockage of my sinuses. I think I’m going to try and consult with a doctor during my visit to Pattaya.

The Friday morning walk was Steve and Scott joining me on the streets of Olongapo City as we made our way to the immigration office. I needed to pick up my ECC paperwork permitting me to leave the country on Sunday.

Mission accomplished!

We weren’t done with our hike yet, though. We departed immigration, hoofed it to the old Navy base, and walked around some more. I’ll share pictures from our walk at the end of this post.

Near the end of our walk, we stopped at the Lighthouse Hotel and grabbed a bite to eat poolside.

This club sandwich was the smallest one I’d ever seen. It was tasty enough, though, so I’ll call it a low-carb sandwich.

As we were walking back to the highway after lunch, I started experiencing some shortness of breath. Not wanting to be confined to an uncomfortable Jeepney, I opted to spring for a taxi ride back to Barretto. Once I was settled into a soft seat with aircon on my face, I felt fine again.

While I was eating, my phone rang. I almost didn’t answer because I wasn’t expecting a call and didn’t recognize the number. I’m glad I did because it was the post office outside my gate with a package to deliver. I advised that the gate was unlocked, and my helper was home to receive the delivery.

A package all the way from Korea!

This post’s title notwithstanding, I knew what was in the box. Kevin Kim had advised me a couple of weeks ago that he was sending me some T-shirts. I’m not sure if he ever specified what kind of t-shirt; if so, I forgot. I just assumed there were from the batch he had made for one of his long-distance hikes. So, I was very surprised to open the box and find this beauty:

Wow! That ought to save me some money. Or get me killed!
I got a black version, too. I think I’ll wear one to the SOB dance competition tonight and see what kind of reaction I get.

Speaking of Kevin Kim, Facebook memories shared this moment from four years ago:

My nephew joined us for dinner during my last visit to Korea in 2019. Kevin tried to talk some sense into his left-leaning mind, but alas, to no avail.

Still on memory lane, here I am seven years ago on my to a Korean wedding:

The gal in my arm is from Czechoslovakia, and the other is from Mongolia. That diversity was one of the pleasures of Itaewon.

And finally, ten years ago, my dart league team celebrated being champions of the Seoul International Dart League:

Good job, Rubbies!

Alright, here are those photos I promised. Scott hasn’t posted his takes yet, so these will have to do for now.

Several rivers run through Olongapo; this is the first one we crossed.
Another angle on the same river.
My hike buddies, Steve and Scott
A bridge and a church
A second river crossed.
The front side of that big-ass church
Life on the riverside
Boats on the bay
And they say money can’t buy happiness.
The Yacht Club features some fine dining and a casino.
Walking the clean streets of SBMA
The symbol of my adopted homeland. It’s still red, white, and blue!
Those statues of a Sailor and a Marine are recent additions to honor the days when the U.S. Navy called this port home for the Pacific Fleet.
Scott is a Navy vet. Steve is an Aussie.
Count your blessings?
Not sure what this symbolizes, but I like it.
It’s an honor to have a convenience store named after you. In my teens, I was a clerk at Stop-n-Go market, making two bucks an hour.
I liked this view.
A shrine to honor the Virgin Mother.

And after that, we grabbed the taxi home.

Time to get ready for the SOB, but I’ll leave you with this food for thought:

Boomtown

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“I know that I have less to live than I have lived.

I feel like a child who was given a box of chocolates. He enjoys eating it, and when he sees that there is not much left, he starts to eat them with a special taste.

I have no time for endless lectures on public laws – nothing will change. And there is no desire to argue with fools who do not act according to their age. And there’s no time to battle the gray. I don’t attend meetings where egos are inflated and I can’t stand manipulators.

I am disturbed by envious people who try to vilify the most capable to grab their positions, talents and achievements.

I have too little time to discuss headlines – my soul is in a hurry.

Too few candies left in the box.

I’m interested in human people. People who laugh at their mistakes are those who are successful, who understand their calling and don’t hide from responsibility. Who defends human dignity and wants to be on the side of truth, justice, righteousness. This is what living is for.

I want to surround myself with people who know how to touch the hearts of others. Who, through the blows of fate, was able to rise and maintain the softness of the soul.

Yes, I hustle, I hustle to live with the intensity that only maturity can give. I’ll eat all the candy I have left – they’ll taste better than the ones I already ate.

My goal is to reach the end in harmony with myself, my loved ones and my conscience.

I thought I had two lives, but it turned out to be only one, and it needs to be lived with dignity.”

Anthony hopkins

Easier said than done, but I’m down with making the best use of whatever time I have left. Here’s what I’ve been doing since I last posted here at LTG:

My newly purchase oxygen tank. Haven’t used it yet, but it is here if I need it.
Slathered these baby back ribs in marinade, wrapped them in foil, then slapped them in the oven while I blogged.
Added some BBQ sauce, then baked another 30 minutes and this is how they came out. Tender and tasty!
It hasn’t been my month.

After I ate, it was time to get ready to feed the Hideaway girls. This week they desired something different–Korean style eats!

They called in an order to this place and I picked up the food (and paid) on my way to the bar.
It’s one of those all you can eat samgyeopsal places. Let’s hope their food is better than their spelling, right, Kevin?
The dine-in menu
The take out version of pork
And the beef version
Down the hatch! Joy confessed she is clumsy with chopsticks and didn’t use them.

Ashley, the gal that’s been coming to the Hash, started her new job at The Green Room last night. So, after leaving Hideaway, I stopped in to buy her a welcome drink or two. It’s good to see her working again, she’s got a big family to support.

That’s her SIX kids! Don’t worry, I’m not about to take on that responsibility. I did give her money for rice the other day, though.

Ashley’s a nice enough gal, and I appreciate that she enjoys some of my favorite activities, like hiking and beer drinking. I have every intention of keeping her strictly in the friend zone.

I didn’t stay out late in deference to my tired old lungs. Went to bed early and woke up panting (I was alone, so not the good kind) at midnight. I registered 87 on my oximeter. I nebulized and went back to sleep. When I got up this morning I was 89. I nebulized again and walked the dogs. When I checked my blood oxygen level again, I was back to my “normal” 95. I’m not sure what’s going on with that.

In an overabundance of caution, I decided to confine my morning walk to the neighborhood. To make that effort a little more interesting, I took a photo of each house currently under construction here in Alta Vista. I had an uphill walk back to the house and I was breathing hard when I got home. Checked my oxy reading again and I was at 96. So, there doesn’t seem to be any correlation to my lack of lung capacity and blood oxygen levels. Weird.

Here’s those houses being built:

Shenandoah Bend (my street)

#1: This one is just about finished.
#2: This house is being built by the guy who currently lives in the apartment upstairs from me.
This will be his view
#3: Just putting the finishing touches on this one.
#4: This one is just about done, too.
#5: And this one is just getting started.

Everglades Drive:

#6: Another new start.
#7: This house is going to be huge.
The view from here.
#8: This one is going up fast, construction just started a couple of months ago.
#9: It won’t be long now. That one next door just finished a couple of weeks ago. Someone has already moved in.
#10: The next three are all close enough to my place where I can hear the construction noise all damn day.
#11: Hurry up and get it done, damn it!
#12: You can see my place behind this one. The main work seems to be done, but the finishing touches are taking forever, it seems.

Alta Vista Drive

#13: Still gonna be a while before this one is ready

Capitol Drive

#14: And the last one I saw being built this morning. I understand lots are selling quick and I expect the housing boom will continue.
And one more Alta Vista view
A Google-eye view of my morning walk. Looks like I hit most of the streets. Just under 4K.

So, that’s where things stand (and I’m still standing!). Nothing left to do now but carry on.

Yes, indeed. One of my favorite all-time groups.
The sky is clearing and the night has cried enough
The sun, he comes, the world to soften up
Rejoice, rejoice, we have no choice but to carry on

The fortunes of fables are able to sing the song
Now witness the quickness with which we get along
To sing the blues you've got to live the dues and carry on

Carry on, love is coming, love is coming to us all

Every breath you take

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Quite the day yesterday–you might say it left me breathless. Here’s the lowdown:

I started off at the immigration office in Olongapo. If you’ve been in the country for six months or more, you are required to secure an Emigration Clearance Certificate (ECC) prior to departure. This is basically a process where they determine if you have any outstanding warrants or other crimes and infractions. I should be good in that regard, but I didn’t have everything with me that I needed to complete the application. One of the helpful Immigration Officers provided me with a list:

  • Three 2×2 photos (white background, no eyewear)
  •  Photocopy of itinerary ticket
  •  Passport
  •  ACR I-Card
  •  All Official Receipt of tourist visa extensions indicating valid stay

I had only three of those items with me. And, oh yeah, you have to apply three working days in advance. I confirmed with the officer that bringing the completed application and other items this morning would allow me to pick up the ECC on Friday. So, I set about about doing what needed to be done.

The long-ass ECC application form
On the way home from grocery shopping, I secured the required photographs. Damn, I’m still a handsome devil, aren’t I?

I had the tourist visa extensions in my desk drawer. This morning, I completed the application, gathered all the required items, and had my driver take me back to immigration. I arrived just when they opened and was the first to be served. I guess everything was in order because they brought out two forms with my photo attached to be signed, and then I applied thumbprints from both hands on each of the forms. I’ll pick up the ECC on Friday morning, assuming all goes well with the record check. My current plan is to walk to the immigration office. I think (hope) it’s only around 8K.

The next thing that happened was I discovered what appeared to be a $2800. fraudulent deduction from my checking account on June 5. That freaked me out, and I immediately filed a fraud report with Navy Federal and changed my account password. As I investigated further, I saw that the fund transfer had gone to Chase Credit Card. I have an account with Chase, but I paid it off and haven’t used the card since. Still, it was a clue. I went to my email and searched for Chase. I found one from mid-May thanking me for scheduling my payment–and the payment amount was the same as what I thought was fraudulent. No idea why it took over three weeks to have the funds transferred to pay off the credit card, but in my defense (and it ain’t much of one, I admit), it was long enough for me to have forgotten about it. Yeah, let’s go, Brandon! So, I retracted the fraud claim and went on about my day.

The next thing on my agenda was a visit to Dr. Jo to see what I needed to do about whatever was ailing my lungs. She listened to my breathing through a stethoscope and agreed it sounded like the wheezing was likely infection-related. She prescribed an antibiotic and advised me to get a chest x-ray if the lungs don’t clear in the next few days.

That shouldn’t be hard to swallow
Welcome to the club!

Sloppy Joe’s is conveniently located practically right next door to the clinic, so at the conclusion of my appointment, I stopped in for some liquid refreshment. MJ, the mountain mother I support, came by on her scooter to pick up her weekly allowance. Well, two weeks’ worth since I won’t be around next Tuesday. She stayed for a beer, then headed to the market for rice. I continued on doing my beer thing for a while, then decided to change my scenery and visit Mango’s. I thought about eating, but just wasn’t hungry enough for the pork chops, and they didn’t have the roast chicken salad I wanted. So, I just had some more beer.

I figured I’d make Whiskey Girl my next and last stop. It’s only about a block up the highway from Mango’s. But as I started walking, I suddenly felt breathless. I paused for a moment, then continued on, but was feeling weaker. When I got to Whiskey Girl, I knew it wasn’t a good idea to go inside, instead; I caught a trike for home. I was really paranoid I was going to lose consciousness and fall out of the trike, but luckily that didn’t happen. When I walked through the door, my helper, Teri (who is also a certified caregiver), was surprised to see me home so early (it wasn’t even 6:00 yet), and then she noticed I didn’t look right. “What’s wrong?” she asked. Can’t breathe, I responded. She slipped the oximeter onto my finger, and it registered 83. Normal is 98-100; my normal with COPD is 95, and I’d never been lower than 88 previously. From what I’ve read, I was about to go into a state of hypoxemia.

When Teri saw my low blood oxygen reading, she immediately said, “I’m calling an ambulance!” I told her not to do that; I’d try the nebulizer first. Thankfully, it worked well enough to restore almost normal breathing and raise my oxygen reading back into the low 90s.

Nothing left for me to do but try get some sleep.

That’s an early to bed, even by my low standards. That’s also an early to rise, but I did get my usual amount of sleep. In fact, I went back to bed at 4:30 and slept another hour.

So far today, I’m not having any issues.

Back to normal, or at least my normal.

I didn’t walk today. The immigration trip made the Wednesday Walkers a no-go. I considered doing a neighborhood walk when I got home, then just decided to give my body a day off to recuperate. I still don’t know what, if anything, triggered yesterday’s episode. I certainly wasn’t doing anything strenuous (those beers only weigh 12 oz.). I’ve decided to get an oxygen tank for emergencies like I experienced last night.

Later this afternoon, I’ll head over to Hideaway Bar for the feeding and hope things turn out better than last night. If I don’t post here tomorrow, you’ll know they didn’t.

For some reason, my Grammarly app stopped working. Sorry if my punctuation is worse than usual.
Whatever you say, Mr. Spock.

Drenched in drama

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Yesterday’s Hash was a wet one; the rain began right when we started and continued off and on throughout the hike. We were fortunate that the rain ended just before the Hash Circle began at the On-Home, Malibog Mountain Momma’s place, which offers little shelter from the storm. The “easy” trail was 7K and mostly flat, but the one climb came near the end, which made it a little more difficult. The way I was loudly wheezing during the ascent had several of my fellow Hashers worried that I wasn’t going to make it. I did, though.

The drama came in the form of Angie’s friend, Rose. She is the one who stole 500 pesos off my kitchen table a few weeks ago. I was surprised to see her at the Hash acting like nothing had happened. I told Angie I wouldn’t pay for Rose, but she participated anyway. At the conclusion of the Hash circle, Rose approached me asking to borrow 500 pesos! I let her know in no uncertain terms that that was not going to happen after what she had done. I was pissed and decided it was best for me to leave, so I headed down the mountain. I caught a trike to IDM and was the first Hasher to arrive. About two beers later, the rest of the pack arrived, including Angie and Rose. I bought Angie a beer and ignored Rose, who was already obviously very drunk and had brought two bottles of Hash beer with her (a big no-no. Yeah, it is stealing.) After a bit, Rose approached me again, and this time I didn’t hold back, telling her to keep the fuck away from me. She slinked back over to her chair; I paid my tab and headed home. Angie messaged me this morning, apologizing and promising that Rose would never attend again. A little late, the damage was done.

The easy trail is in red, and the hard trail is in yellow. The easy trail was actually longer than the hard trail but didn’t have the steep vertical climb the others had to endure.
Gathering for last-minute instructions from the Hare, Vienna Sausage.
The Hardheads board a hired Jeepney for the ride out to the start of their trail. I’m told only seven of the twenty-eight Hashers in attendance yesterday opted for the hard trail.
And the sane group begins their trek from the VFW.
The trail took us through Alta Vista
And back out the other side
On the muddy streets of San Isidro
Cookie time!
I wasn’t sure where the Hare was leading us…
But it turned out to be a valley walk. Wet and mild!
On-On Whatever You Want
Be careful, ladies!
Now which way do we go? The rain had washed most of the powder markings away.
But we eventually found our way.
Easter Mountain through the rain
It was touch and go, but I made it to the On-Home alive!
It’s nice on ice!
Our hostess with a BIG surprise

I received recognition (and time on the ice) for completing my 250th run with the Subic Bay Hash House Harriers.

And then the drama I mentioned earlier began.

I’ll take that as a sign!
Maybe so. Lots to think about during my getaway to Thailand. Lord, don’t let the drama follow me there!

The devil made me do it

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I almost never turn on my television, let alone watch six seasons (93 episodes) of a series. What the hell is up with that?

Here’s a brief recap of my journey to heaven and hell. Not to mention Los Angeles. I’m not a reviewer like that Kevin Kim guy (I hope he watches the show so I can read a real review), but I’ll share my impressions of Lucifer (available on Netflix) with you.

Here’s the official trailer to get you started:

The show received generally positive reviews (88% on Rotten Tomatoes), and the fact that I stuck with it from beginning to end despite my limited attention span says a lot. This guy wrote a review that I mostly agree with, and rather than write my own, I’m going to just steal his synopsis:

Lucifer has given up his throne in the underworld and returns to earth, where he ironically decides to settle in the City Of Angels (Los Angeles).

While overindulging in the excesses of life, Lucifer still retains some of his otherworldly powers which allows him to ‘grant favours’ until one of his recipients is murdered outside of his upscale nightclub.

For the first time in billions of years, the murder awakens something unfamiliar in Lucifer’s soul that is eerily similar to compassion and sympathy.

He quickly pairs up with the investigating detective, Chloe Decker (Lauren German), which starts the partnership the show revolves around.

So, yeah, the show is a crime drama with Sunday school lessons. That was different enough to pique my interest. As I mentioned above, I don’t normally watch TV, but one day I had a house guest and she wanted to watch something. Scrolling through the Netflix offerings, she saw Lucifer and said, “That looks interesting,” and so began the journey. We only watched the one episode together, but some Satanic power called me back for more, and here we are.

I’ll refer you to Wikipedia for details on the cast and actors, but you have Lucifer, his partner Chloe, an LAPD detective, Amenadiel, Lucifer’s older brother, Mazikeen, a demon who follows Lucifer to LA, and several other Biblical figures (including Lucifer’s mother, Adam’s wife Eve, Cain, another brother, and assorted angels) make appearances over the course of the series.

What did I like? Well, the uniqueness of the storyline was pretty interesting. I’m no theologian, so I can’t attest to the accuracy of the religious aspects of the show, but for the most part, it worked pretty well. I actually didn’t like the portrayal of God, who seemed much too milquetoast for a supreme being. Some critics didn’t like the crime drama aspects, but I thought they helped carry along the story quite well–who doesn’t like a good murder mystery solved every week?

The aerial views of Los Angeles (always on a clear day) were spectacular. I was born in LA, and it brought back nice memories of those years before the city became a shithole. Almost all of the actresses were smoking hot and sexy. And this being a show about the devil, there were many debaucheries (within the bounds of a PG rating), dancing girls, and booze. I could relate!

Tom Ellis did a good job as Lucifer, although his British accent was a little distracting (but then again, his brother was a Black man, and so was God. Their mother was White. And that was something else I liked; the show didn’t go crazy woke; it just portrayed all the relationships as normal and natural. I’m not going to do spoilers here, but two of the female characters wound up getting married, but again, it wasn’t overplayed. Lucifer was a slut (of course) and alluded to having sex with men occasionally, but thankfully, we never had to watch those encounters. About the only time I thought the show went over the top was a couple of episodes depicting the LAPD as being a racist organization.

Anyway, a few episodes went off the rails, but for the most part, the show was always very watchable. I think it could have ended after season five because it sometimes felt like things were being drug out and strung along, but in the end, it all wrapped up nicely.

Give it a watch, and go to hell!

Sorting it out

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My lung issues have flared up again; this is probably the worst outbreak I’ve had. There are even sound effects–when I exhale, I wheeze so loudly it almost sounds like snoring. I also had low energy levels; I couldn’t even force myself out for my standard Sunday solo stroll. The nebulizer helps some, and I am using it with much more frequency. Hopefully, this is just a phase and not my new normal.

In lieu of walking, I took a morning nap. And another in the afternoon. In between, I watched the final episodes of Lucifer. I’ll write a separate post with my thoughts on that series.

I felt strong enough to go to Hideaway Bar for the Sunday feeding. On the way, I stopped at Jewel Cafe and ordered the standard fare: pork sisig, garlic prawns, and chicken wings.

The grub is delivered.
And devoured

When I departed Hideaway, I went to John’s place for my food.

I couldn’t resist the pulled pork sandwich. I did avoid eating most of the bun, although the fries proved irresistible.

So, next week I’ll be in Pattaya, Thailand. The timing for this trip couldn’t be better. I need a break from my routines and a change of scenery. I also want some time alone to think about what comes next. More of the same, or trying something new?

A commenter on a recent post suggested I cut everyone off that are currently receiving financial support from me and see what happens. Will they still be my “friends,” or will they disappear once nothing can be gained from knowing me? I know what it feels like to be ignored when you aren’t buying lady drinks; it happened again last night at Sloppy Joe’s. And that’s okay, but a smart bargirl will pretend at least to like you. My style is to order a beer, and if someone engages with me while I drink it, I’ll buy her a drink when I order my second. Last night, the gals were more interested in their phones than me, so I saved some money.

It’s a bit different situation with my “regulars” like Joy and Mary. Last week Joy needed money to enroll her five-year-old in kindergarten, and her other kid had a birthday on Saturday. On Wednesday, I tipped her what I thought was a generous 1000 pesos to assist with those expenses. On Friday, she messaged me that she didn’t have money for her kid’s birthday. I reminded her I had provided her with money for that purpose, but she said it wasn’t enough to cover everything. I didn’t respond after that, but it irritated me that she somehow thinks I’m responsible for taking care of her children. Joy messaged me yesterday asking if I was coming to Hideaway, and I told her I didn’t want to be a disappointment to her again. I was surprised and somewhat taken aback by her response:

” You are not a disappointment. You’re the most important person in my life. Don’t think you are a disappointment because you are not. I just said that [about the birthday] because I was sad. I didn’t say you disappointed me. I’m sorry that I made you feel that way. Sorry!”

Okay, I can be a tad oversensitive, I suppose. So maybe she wasn’t chiding me about not giving her enough money. That part about being the “most important” is downright scary. Whatever I decide to do, I do not want to hurt someone’s feelings. Oddly enough, of all the bargirls I know, Joy would be the best fit as a girlfriend/companion. Except she has those two young children who I know are more important to her than me, as they should be. I’m not looking to raise someone else’s kids, so that makes any potential relationship a no-go.

Then there’s Mary. The age gap (and her kid) always made the reality of our arrangement obvious. Turns out, though, that lately, I’ve been thinking I’m not cut out to be a Sugar Daddy either. She began a new job at John’s place yesterday, and I hope it works out for her. That’s why I went for the pulled pork–Mary needed money to pay for her medical and some employment certificate from City Hall (probably confirming that she is eighteen). So, naturally, I provided the funds. Anyway, I don’t mind helping her transition to a real job, which will make it easier for me to resign as her sponsor.

Lots to think about. Hopefully, my health will improve because nothing else matters when you wake up breathless.

I’m going to attempt the Hash this afternoon. Guenther is the Hare, but there is a “mostly flat 7K easy trail” alternative. I guess we’ll find out what he considers flat and easy. What’s the worst that could happen?

Well, five years ago today, the Hash left me in stitches. Didn’t see the barbed wire.

More to come soon, including the Lucifer post.

In doctor nated

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During my last appointment with Dr. Jo, I invited her and her husband, Chris, to join me on a hike someday. That turned out to be yesterday. They live in Alta Vista but haven’t ventured out on any of the nearby trails. Not knowing their abilities, I figured I’d keep it easy. I needn’t have worried; they are both ardent hikers and had just climbed a mountain in Pundaquit the day before. I introduced them to the My Bitch trail, but felt like it probably wasn’t very challenging for them. They seemed to enjoy it, though. I told them next time, we’d do Black Rock, and they were both up for that probably sometime next week.

Jo and Chris arrived at my place to start our hike.
Washing clothes in the creekbed.
I asked the woman who lives here if she had drunk all those Mountain Dews herself, and she confirmed it.
We finished the hike in a little over an hour. I’ll make it more challenging for them next time.

When it came time for my Saturday night adventure, I figured I’d start by treating the Blue Butterfly gals with the brownies they’d requested on my previous visit.

Promise kept, smiles achieved
These two joined me at my table, but when they discovered I was occupied and would only buy drinks for my favorite, they took the offered cookies and fled.
I limited my affections to Tanya during my visit. We actually had an enjoyable conversation. Instead of my usual “flirty jokes,” we talked about her school days and our shared love of poetry. I even recited some from memory.
And then we exchanged rings.

Regular readers may recall that Tanya had attended a few Hashes in the past. She even has a Hash name: Face Down Ass Up. Perhaps I’ll offer to sponsor her if she would like to attend again in the future.

When I was ready to move on, I decided that Cheap Charlies would be my next stop. But as I passed by Annex Bar, a young woman sitting at the front table called out to me. I didn’t recognize her, but that’s not unusual for me. I waved and intended to keep walking, but saw that Chris and his gal were inside. Not wanting to be rude, I went in to say hello. I still didn’t recognize the young woman sitting there, but when I ordered my beer, I bought her one too. I figured maybe she worked there, but it turns out that’s not the case. When I went to the CR, I asked the bartender about the girl seated up front. It seems she’s been visiting the past couple of days, sitting at the street table, and calling out to guys to come in and buy her a beer. The bartender said they would talk to her about it later, but I thought it was a pretty good game–she gets free beer, and the bar sells more drinks. I suspect she is a freelance prostitute, but her scheme seems much better than walking the street all night. Chris got a good laugh at my expense, but it was funny. I left after the one beer.

Cheap Charlies was unusually crowded, but it was Saturday night, and there seemed to be some tourists in town or maybe merchant ships in port. Tina and Alma joined me right away, and Nerissa came over when her customer departed.

The three amigas–L-R: Tina, Nerissa, and Alma. I’m Facebook friends with all of them but only chat with Nerissa occasionally.
Alma looking comfortable
And then the sun set…
And the moon rose.

But I wasn’t done yet. As I departed Cheap Charlies, I decided to pay a rare visit to Voodoo Bar.

My OLD friend Josie was there to greet me. Rumor has it she’s the oldest bargirl in town, but she still has game. She tried to entice me into the VIP room (the entry fee is five tequila shots), but I declined. Still, it was nice to see her again.

But wait, there’s more! I wanted a nightcap to end the evening, and I was thinking about Sloppy Joe’s. But that cutie pie Karen was sitting out front of Alaska and enticed me to come inside. I chided her for the lackluster performance of the Alaska team at Friday’s SOB (only two showed up), then entered Alaska for the first time in a couple of months. One of the reasons I haven’t been back is the silent treatment I received from my former favorite, a dancer named Virginia. She was on stage last night, and the other dancers kept waiting for me to call her down. I chose to ignore her instead. It was a little uncomfortable sitting there alone, and I was trying to decide which of the other dancers I might welcome to my table. Then I remembered sweet Karen sitting outside and had my waitress fetch her.

I would if I could, but Karen made it clear from the first time I met her (a couple of years ago now) that she had zero interest in an old guy like me. Still, she is friendly and fun to be around, and I enjoyed spending a little time with her last night.

Speaking of age gaps, this Facebook Reel (their version of TikTok) cracked me up. It reminded me of my epiphany when I realized my granddaughter and Mary are the same age.

Anyway, one of my regular trike drivers was waiting out front when I left Alaska (I wonder if they follow me around?) and got me home safe and sound. And so ended another day in paradise.

Lord have Mercy on me

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My day started with a hike and ended with a SOB. That’s just the way I roll.

Only me and Ed for the Friday group hike
We kept it mostly flat with a pleasant valley walk.
Right at 6K when we finished

I headed back out around 4:00 p.m. in order to secure a seat at The Green Room, where this week’s Sons of Baccus dance competition was being held. I succeeded in my quest for a decent view, but arriving almost two hours before the competition started presented a new challenge: staying sober. I managed to pull that off, too, somehow.

I met a waitress at Green Room I’d never seen before, a real cutie named Mercy.

She laughed at all of my jokes, and I returned her kindness with lady drinks. A win-win!

I did manage to keep my lustful thoughts mostly at bay. Still, I couldn’t help but hope I might find some Mercy in the future, at least in my fantasies.

Wet Spot won the competition, and I was in a trike by 8:00. I made it through another Lucifer episode (three more to go) then it was off to find peace in slumber.

That’s all I’ve got for today, folks.

Have a nice trip, Mr. President. See you next fall.

Bridging the gap

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“The Road Not Taken” is a classic poem by Robert Frost that explores the theme of choice and its consequences. The poem is written in a simple yet powerful style that resonates with readers of all ages.

Frost uses the metaphor of a traveler journeying through a forest to represent the journey of life. The traveler comes upon a fork in the road and must decide which path to take. The two paths represent the different choices we make in life, and the traveler’s decision to take the less traveled path symbolizes the choice to take a risk and follow one’s own unique path.

The imagery in the poem is rich and evocative, with Frost’s use of words like “yellow wood” and “falling leaves” creating a sense of natural beauty and transition. The poem’s rhyme scheme and meter add to its overall musicality, creating a sense of movement and rhythm that reinforces the theme of journey.

The poem’s message is timeless and universal, reminding us that the choices we make in life have consequences that can shape our destiny. Frost’s exploration of this theme through the metaphor of a traveler in a forest speaks to the human experience in a way that is both relatable and profound. “The Road Not Taken” is a masterpiece of American poetry that continues to inspire and resonate with readers today.

One of my favorite poems. It is interesting to look back on a lifetime of crossroads from the perspective of old age. The choices that I made over the years led me to the place I am today. I’m not complaining about the paths I chose to take, but I can’t help but wonder where those paths not taken would have led me. My fantasy of the afterlife is being given the chance for a do-over to find out. That would be heaven to me.

Here in my current world, life continues apace. I did my standard solo Thursday walk through the Naugsol valley and did not encounter any divergent roads, but I did take note of the several bridges I crossed.

Good morning, Easter Mountain!
The recent rains have left some puddles to jump.
A view of the Naugsol valley.
The first bridge I crossed is as dicey as it looks. Luckily it’s only one step, and you are across.
The bridge we call #4 is long and sturdy.
This one was a bridge too far, so I didn’t take it.
I used the bridge called #2 instead.
Back across the river on the 1st bridge and the only one wide enough to carry cars.
That is if you don’t count the bridge on the National Highway. And since we didn’t give it a number, I guess we didn’t count it.
A 7K kind of morning.

And then my day took a turn for the worse.

Looking back on my life’s history, I’m more of a paper plate–easily disposed of…

So, Mary needed additional funds for some end-of-year project or another at school. I found that a little off-putting since I’d already given her money this week, but whatever. They were only having a half-day session yesterday, and she said she’d come for lunch (and the cash) at 1:30. So, I decided to do something special.

I fired up the grill and plopped fifty bucks worth of ribeyes over the flames.
The menu included steaks, corn on the cob, baked potato, cornbread, and carrot cake for dessert.

My timing was pretty near perfect; everything was ready and waiting at the appointed hour. And there it sat. I messaged Mary at 1:40, asking where she was. “On a Jeepney,” was her reply. Why didn’t you just take a trike? “I went home after school.” WTF? She couldn’t even be bothered to message me that her plans had changed. I found that both rude and disrespectful. Needless to say, it ruined my mood, and when she finally arrived a little after 2:00, I just put the money down on the table next to her plate and ate my lunch.

The steaks may be high, but damn, they are delicious.

I wasn’t exactly rude to Mary, but I wasn’t my usual friendly self either. When she was done eating, I packed up her leftovers and sent her on her way unaccompanied. We have had a standard “date” every Friday these past few weeks, and I told her this afternoon that I would be taking a break. It just may be that I’m not cut out to be the Sugar Daddy I thought I could be. I don’t expect to be worshipped or placed on a pedestal, but damn, showing a modicum of appreciation doesn’t seem too much to ask. We’ll see how I feel about it next week.

How about that? Two poems in one day!

After Mary departed, I baked some brownies to take to Jen at Whiskey Girl as a belated birthday offering. I packed in some Oreo (yep, I initially typed an “a” again) cookies to make sure there was enough dessert to go around. I arrived a little after the 5:00 p.m. opening and was the only customer. Jen took my drink order while I perused the Shamobli’s pizza menu on the table. She brought my beer and sat down beside me. I asked if she was hungry, and she said, “no.” I gave her the brownies and cookies, and she thanked me and then set them aside. You’re not going to share them? No, she wanted to take them home with her.

Well, it was her gift to do with as she pleased. I had anticipated a party among the girls with some pizza and sweets, but apparently, that’s not the type of relationship the girls have at Whiskey Girl. Very unusual. So, I set about taking full advantage of the “buy one, get one” happy hour pricing and kept Jen’s drink glass full too. I wasn’t in the best of moods, and Jen noticed that right away. She gave me a cuddle and a back rub to relieve my stress.

I stayed long enough to pay for three beers and drink six, then said goodnight to Jen and departed. Crossed the highway successfully and made Sloppy Joe’s my nightcap venue. Chris and his girl were just leaving and invited me to join them at the Annex Bar. I briefly considered it, then declined because I didn’t feel like making the longish walk and crossing the highway again to get there. I had a couple more beers and watched the traffic roll by. Oh, the food vendor from Wednesday’s Blue Butterfly spoiled goods episode stood outside but had the good sense not to approach me. Yep, I was still in a sour mood.

Grabbed a trike home, had some carrot cake with vanilla ice cream (fuck the diet), and watched some more Lucifer. Just a few more episodes to go.

While doing my title search for this post, I came across something I had written back in 2014 about the difference between racism and ignorance based on an incident at an establishment in Itaewon (Seoul). Heh, back then, my blog wasn’t the lame diary it has become. I guess I took one of those roads Frost was talking about or something. Or a detour.

Okay, time to get ready for my solitary Friday night. There is an SOB in my future. And beer. Lots of beer.

Navy daze

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The Wednesday Walkers changed things up and took a rare trip out to SBMA (aka The old Navy base) for our adventure. With our smaller turnout lately, we have more transportation options. Scott’s car carried the four of us comfortably and allowed us to explore some new terrain. The skies were threatening, but the rain held off throughout our 7K pavement hike.

Yesterday’s route. We need to get out here more often. Lots to see and explore.
Our group: Sheila, Todd, Scott, and yours truly
Off we go!
Pipe dreams
Let’s get something straight between us!
Heading up the road (there was a slight elevation gain)
Roadside vendors
That gal has a lot of balls!
Our path took us parallel to a golf course
Fore!
Who’s idea was this?
A creek
Posing by the creek
There is an Aeta (native people) camp here
The Aeta locals offer tours of the forest trails nearby. It’s on my bucket list now.
See you next time!
Onward we march
Wait a minute! Were we somehow transported back to the USA?
It certainly has the look and feel of an American suburban neighborhood.
Ah, yeah. I looked at places here back in 2010 when I was first preparing for my post-retirement life. These duplexes were officer housing quarters back in the Navy base days. They are actually quite nice, with large American-style kitchens and roomy bedrooms upstairs. I decided not to live here because it was too much like home–I wanted to live in the Philippines, damn it!
Hell, I could have been living on Easy Street all this time!
A famous and popular international school right in the neighborhood
Taking time to smell the flowers…
No gloves on this hike, but I did find these…
The home stretch
And finally, back where we started. We loaded into the car and headed to a famous place for lunch–Vasco’s
The menu
Ships in the dock of the bay, watchin’ the tide roll away…
Anchors away!
Having a blast
At the table
The view from the table
My chef salad on the table

A good day on base!

I went home to rest and refresh; then, I was off to the Wednesday feeding at Hideaway. I sent Joy out to get whatever she and the girls wanted. She came back with chicken, pork on a stick, and pancit.

Pork skewer
As you can see, pancit is a noodley dish. I don’t particularly care for it. Filipinas seem crazy about it, though.
Everything seemed to go down okay.

After leaving Hideaway, I stopped at Blue Butterfly and shared a drink with my favorite there, Tanya. There was a lady walking the streets selling food from a basket. I asked the girls if they were hungry and got an affirmative response. Tanya spoke to the vendor in Tagalog; then I paid for 270 pesos worth of food (not sure what, some kind of burger-like thing). The vendor went on her way. Later I noticed that most of the food was uneaten, and Tanya told me it was not fresh. Apparently, the vendor had assured her otherwise. It’s the first time I’ve seen that happen, and obviously, it is the last time I’ll make a purchase from this woman (I’ve made several in the past, but now she has lost my trust).

I finished my night at Wet Spot and enjoyed some time with the big shots at the back slapper’s table. Later, I noticed Saja was back to work (she’s a schoolmate of Mary), so I invited her over for a drink. Her boyfriend has returned to his homeland, Germany, I think she said, for work, and she has come back to Wet Spot, at least for now.

I would if I could, but I can’t, so I won’t

And so ended another night in the Bars of Barretto. At least there was no trouble of this kind:

I never walk home. That’s what trikes are for!

You can’t always get what you want

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I was going to call today’s post “Ruby Tuesday,” but a quick search revealed I had used that title back in February 2021. I reread the old post, and in the comments, Brian suggested, “You can’t always get what you want,” would have been a more appropriate title. So, here you go.

Shopping at Royal is always hit-and-miss. This week the sugar-free pudding that has been satisfying my sweet tooth’s desire for dessert was out of stock. On the other hand, they did have Coke Zero in the 16oz bottles I prefer for the first time in several weeks. In the end, I guess I got what I needed.

My mountain mama friend MJ whom I support came by for her weekly stipend. I mentioned I had a doctor’s appointment that afternoon, and she asked me what was wrong. I told her I was being treated for AIDS. The look on her face as she jumped back, was priceless! I quickly reassured her that I was joking, and while relieved, I don’t think she likes my sense of humor much.

My visit with Dr. Jo was for another B+ shot, which she recommends I get every 7-10 days. The injection is supposed to help my body up my red blood cell count, which is below normal and may contribute to my periodic breathing difficulties. I also asked if I should get one of those kits to monitor my blood sugar, and she said she didn’t think that was necessary at this time. I’ll return for another blood diagnostics session in a couple of months to check my progress.

It was only 3:30 after my appointment. Too late to go back home and too early to start drinking, so I decided to find something to eat (I had skipped lunch). With time to spare, I made the trek across town to John’s place. My waitress asked if I was interested in the day’s special–Philly cheesesteak. I responded that’s what I came for!

It tasted even better than it looks!

John stopped by my table and asked me what I thought of the sandwich. I told him it was the best I ever had. I said I was especially surprised by the cheese sauce. He told me that was also something he made himself from scratch. Also, the beef was USDA ribeye, which was very tender and tasty. Well done, Mr. Kim!

After my meal, I headed back across town to Sloppy Joe’s. My buds Chris and Jim were there, and I joined them in the pursuit of happiness by downing alcoholic beverages. I can only stay in one place for so long, and when my feet got itchy, I invited Jim to join me in a bar hop.

On the highway in search of our next venue.

Neither of us had been to Adam’s bar in a long time, so we went in to check it out. We were the only customers. They had several bargirls sitting around waiting for something to do. At least they didn’t accost us for lady drinks, which I always appreciate. I’m unsure why Adam’s isn’t doing better; it’s a nice venue with a pool table and dart boards. If I had to guess, I’d say the problem is simply more bars than available customers. That seemed to be the case last night, at least. We finished our beers and departed.

I suggested we pay a visit to Whiskey Girl next, and when I mentioned the “buy one, get one” deal, Jim was sold. My old favorite, Jen, was outside as we arrived, and she escorted us to our table. We ordered our beers, and I bought a lady drink for Jen. I asked about the new girl I had met on my last visit, Niki, and they pointed out that she was on the stage “dancing” (it was more like the typical Barretto shuffle), so I called her down to join us.

Niki made it through her first week, so she’s on her way. To where I can’t say.

Jen asked me about brownies (I guess that’s becoming my nighttime claim to fame, similar to the cookies I hand out during the day), and I pointed out that the last few times I’ve visited the bar, she’s been with a customer or absent, so bringing her brownies hadn’t even occurred to me. Then she told me it was her birthday. I felt bad for her, but as I noted, how was I supposed to know what day she was born? She said she had told me the last time I was there, but I have no recollection of that. Anyway, I promised I’d bring brownies the next time I visit. And then a flower vendor came by, so I bought Jen a rose.

Happy birthday! I also slipped her 500 pesos.

Jim wanted to make Alley Cats the final stop of the evening, but I knew I’d already had enough, so I declined the invite and caught a trike home.

I don’t hike on Tuesdays, but I did find this and found it interesting:

Nearly 150 years ago, in 1874, Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) and his pastor, Joseph Twitchell set off to attempt a walk of 100 miles from Hartford Connecticut to Boston, Massachusetts. They hoped to finish within 48 hours. They often took ten-mile jaunts together, only suffering “jaw ache” from gabbing so much. With this walk, they could store up enough “jaw” for the winter.

The two passed through hamlets along the way and after ten hours and 28 miles they stopped for the night. “Before retiring, they had a consultation and decided that their undertaking had developed into anything but a pleasure trip and was actually hard work.” In the morning they reached mile 35 and then boarded a train for Boston. Twain said, “My knee was so stiff that it was like walking on stilts.” He never tried a 100-mile walk again.

From my new book: Running 100 Miles: Part One (1729-1960), https://ultrarunninghistory.com/100miles1/

Yep, keeping it fun, or at least enjoyable, is my goal these days.

I shared the photo of my mom and dad from 1950 (posted here yesterday) on Facebook, and it generated a lot of feedback. In response to a question, I noted that the marriage was far from perfect, but it had lasted a lifetime (almost 60 years when they passed away).

One of the last photos I took of them together. You can almost feel the love they shared for one another.

This fruit fell far from that tree–I’m a four-time loser at marriage. And love seems to be the bane of my existence. Well, you can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.

Here’s hoping.

King of the road

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All trails lead to Yero’s. At least they did for yesterday’s Hash.

The red line is the path the Hare intended. The orange line is the route the “sane” group chose. Our trail was actually a tad longer than the Hare’s but much, much flatter.
The “sane” Hashers gathered at the Alta Vista Community Center. Six of us this time (not shown is Pubic Head since he’s behind the camera for this and many other shots in today’s post.)
There’s Pubic Head
We speculated about how much longer this tree will remain standing. I don’t see it making it through rainy season, especially if there is some wind involved.
“Trailers for sale or rent…”
Flower power
Forward march!
Through a village in San Isidro
Over the river…
…and past the hills…
…to grandmother’s house, we go. Actually, I didn’t see a grandmother, but a flock of hungry kids came out looking for their biscuits.
Waiting on the slowpoke
There was one spot where our sane trail intersected with the Hare’s trail, and who should we encounter at that moment? None other than Leech My Nuggets, probably the fastest Hasher in our Kennel.
Almoranus and a virgin Hasher weren’t far behind.
But we kept right on marching to the beat of our own drummer.
We just marched the dusty trail
Another cookie delivery
Who let the dogs out?

Looks like this cow liked the look of Fuck Buddy’s ass…
If you say so. But may I enter?

Through a neighborhood in Calapacuan…
…and onto the National Highway.
We arrived at our On-Home venue, Yero’s, six kilometers from where we began.
Ain’t that a pisser?
Some Hash Gash for your viewing pleasure.
I passed the Hashit to Leech My Nuggets, charging him with being so fast and agile that he makes me appear old and fat. He advised me to have a look in the mirror.

And that’s pretty much the story of how this week’s Hash went down. The other thing that happened was my decision to stop by Snackbar on my way home. I saw someone there I’d missed, and I remembered what it was like to have passion in my life. All the beer in the world won’t fill that void, but it doesn’t stop me from trying.

Facebook memories showed me a happy couple who got together a few years before I was born.

Mom and Dad before they were Mom and Dad, circa 1950 or so.

Alrighty then, time for me to get out of here.

Sunday with My Bitch

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Or maybe I should say bitches, since I had a feeding, too.

Anyway, I decided to change my usual Sunday stroll into a hike by traversing the My Bitch trail from one end to the other. I’ve gotten to where I play it safe by not hiking offroad by myself. So much can go wrong, and one slip, trip, or fall can leave you in a world hurt. But street walks can get boring, and the Bitch is like an old friend, so I decided to cautiously risk it.

Here’s the story of my hike in pictures:

Out my front door and onto Shenandoah
To the end of Everglades
Where the My Bitch trail starts when going in this direction (otherwise, it is where it ends)
Nature’s stairsteps
The old man’s house, or at least what is left of it. I guess it’s been three years or so since he died, but in my early days on the Bitch I’d always see him just sitting there alone, staring straight ahead. I brought him cookies once about a week before he passed away. Damn, I hope he didn’t have diabetes! Anyway, RIP; you are a landmark on the My Bitch trail now.
Someone has built a shack down in the creekbed. Hope that works out for them during rainy season.
Laundry and bath day down in the creek (I really need to remember to use my zoom. Sorry!)
My first cookie delivery on the day
I don’t know this tree’s history, but it has impressive roots.
Another climb
A major intersection on the trail we call “Four Corners.”
My Bitch goes thataway
Looking back to Alta Vista
The remains of this house have been like this for the five years I’ve been hiking past.
Hello there, youngsters. Part of the family that has been living the mountain life since long before I started walking by.
Roosters and goats and harvesting bamboo are how they eke out a living here.
That’s Jennifer and her kids. Scott has photos of her (circa 2006) when she was a kid herself.
And there’s the hardworking mountain mama I’ve always called Olivia. We recently became Facebook friends, and it turns out her name is Onelia. For all these years, she never corrected me.
This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is sb33-1024x768.jpg
Another look at Onelia’s compound
We call this spot “3rd family,” and there used to be a large compound here too. Just a memory now.
Those houses down there are on Rizal Extension, where My Bitch will take me.
One of my cookie stops, but no one was around yesterday
But I found a new recipient a bit further up the trail.
That really gets my goat
An Easter Mountain view
The way ahead
My friend MJ lives here. She’s one of my support projects and also my part-time masseuse.
And here’s where my trek on My Bitch comes to an end. Right at 3K from start to finish.
But I still have to get home. Starting with a long walk down Rizal Extension.
Through this narrow passageway
Past Columban College
Then Jasmine Street. Or is Jasmin?
Welcome to the Philippines!
La Cambra
Then Jolo
Then up Del Pilar
And on to the National Highway and a lunch stop at Sit-n-Bull
I kind of made a dick of myself on this hike, didn’t I?
That’s better. A tad over 6K for my Sunday adventure.
My club sandwich lunch. And if you are counting the carbs, I gave half of it to my helper.

I did my usual afternoon routines (nap, blog, and Netflix), then it was off to Hideaway for the Sunday feeding.

I’d never seen the bar this crowded before. I had to sit at a table in the back.
The food I ordered arrived from Jewel Cafe
Four orders of garlic prawns
Four orders of pork sisig
And Tocino with rice and egg for Joy.
Choco Pie for dessert
Joy’s seal of approval
That big crowd I mentioned earlier all left before I did. And I didn’t even have gas.

When it was time to leave my Hideaway, I wanted to try something on the newer end of the bar spectrum. Mugshots was open, and so I popped in.

And I was the only customer for the duration of my visit.
And that meant I had exclusive access to bartender Tina (they don’t have GROs or waitresses, but I bought Tina a lady drink anyway). Those chicken wings were part of a special offer: buy wings and get a free beer. I wasn’t that hungry, but Tina was happy to help me finish them.

I enjoyed my visit to Mugshots and do intend to stop in on a more regular basis in the future. I was going to do the Green Room for my nightcap, but they were jammed packed with customers, so I went next door to Wet Spot and had one more for the road, then triked home safe and sound.

I was feeling the gay pride on my morning dog walk today:

Not sure what God is trying to tell me. I already know I’m his gift to women.
And these USDA ribeye steaks were delivered to my door this morning.
The steaks were high, though; that’s a hundred dollars worth of meat. I’ll have to be super careful when I grill them. I don’t want to be burning through my cash.

And finally, it’s Memorial Day, and it is my tradition to honor my great Uncle Frank Foltz, who was killed by a German sniper a little more than a month before the end of the war. He’s the only member of my clan that I know of who was killed in the service of our nation.

And he’s one more arrow flying through the air
One more arrow landing in a shady spot somewhere
Where the days and nights blend into one
And he can always feel the sun
Through the soft brown earth that holds him
Forever always young.

That’s all there is

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Welp, this is one of those posts that didn’t need to be written (did I hear someone say, aren’t they all like that?). Nothing of significance or interest occurred during my Saturday night on the town, but let me tell you about it anyway.

I baked up a batch of my brownies to share with the girls, but it wasn’t clear in my mind which girls. I thought I might change things up and treat the Blue Butterfly crew, but I changed my mind as I walked into town and went to Cheap Charlies instead.

I had the usual CC experience–Alma on my right, Nerissa on my left, and Inez giving me a back rub. I told some jokes, and they laughed while enjoying their lady drinks and brownies. I drank gin and soda. As the dinner hour approached, I considered ordering something from Foodies downstairs, but the visual image of that Philly cheesesteak sandwich from John’s place overruled that thought. I paid my tab and headed up the highway.

When I arrived at John’s, a sign on the door said, “Closed for emergency repairs.” I stood there with a WTF expression on my face until one of the upstairs waitresses called to me, saying they were doing electrical work and would reopen in one or two hours. Damn, that was disappointing.

I crossed the highway (I always walk facing traffic) and headed back to my side of town. A light rain began to fall, so I took refuge in Blue Butterfly. I’m hardly ever here unless it’s a Hash On-Home, but the waitresses all knew my name. Two of them joined me at my table, including Tanya, a former Hasher I’ve written about before.

Heh, here’s a picture from the post I linked from January of this year. The same two waitresses joined me last night. I STILL don’t recall the name of the one on the right, and at this point, I’m too embarrassed to ask.

Anyway, it was the usual chitchat that comes with a lady drink. Although out of the blue, Tanya mentioned how much she missed my brownies! I didn’t have the heart to tell her about the ones I had baked earlier for my aborted mission to Blue Butterfly. I’ll definitely bring some next time I come here.

I still needed some food in my belly, so I continued my journey down the highway, ultimately deciding to visit Wet Spot, where I could order something from Sit-n-Bull to eat. It was still early, but it wasn’t busy, and none of the people I usually entertain (or do they entertain me?) were around. So, I sat alone, ate my soft-shell chicken tacos (without the rice and bean sides), then headed out.

My next and last stop for the evening was Whiskey Girl. My regular waitress, Jen, wasn’t around, and all the other girls were in the “ignoring me” mode. I even had to get up and go to the bar to order my second drink. That’s a little distressing when I can’t even pay for attention or company.

Oh, I had messaged my friend earlier that I wouldn’t be attending the private party at Snackbar. Then I got a message from my ex there asking where I was. I just responded that I was taking a break. I guess she assumed that meant from drinking (fat chance of that!) because she replied, “Good.” Anyway, as fate would have it, “the Dick” (my rival from the past) was at Whiskey Girl when I arrived. Not long after he left, my ex messaged me that the Dick said I was at Whiskey, but maybe it was my twin. She had a laughing emoji at the end of her message, but the implication was that I had lied earlier, and I guess, in a way, I had. So, I responded that it was me at Whiskey, and I didn’t come to the party because I wasn’t ready to relive old memories. She answered, “Okay,” and we left it at that.

And then something nice happened at Whiskey Girl. An attractive young woman walked past my table, hesitated, then returned and greeted me. It was a nice gesture after being ignored earlier. If I recall correctly, her name is Niki, and I invited her to join me. Turns out, it was her first night at work and first time working in a bar. So, I guess, in a sense, I took her cherry with the lady drink I bought her. Actually, I wound up buying her two. I’ll have a new WG favorite next time I visit, assuming she’s still working by then. Lots of the girls don’t enjoy the bargirl experience, and Niki is a dancer, which to me is the most challenging job of all—standing up on a stage like meat on display at the market. I feel more pity than lust when watching them wait for a customer. I hope it works out for her.

I’d had enough, literally and figuratively, so I caught a trike for home. I finished season five of Lucifer (one more season to go) and went to bed.

And if you made it this far into this post, you must be thinking: “Is that all there is?” And the answer to that is, yes, that’s all there is.

I know what you must be saying to yourselves
“If that's the way she feels about it
Why doesn't she just end it all”
Oh, no, not me
I'm in no hurry for that final disappointment
Cause I know just as well as I'm standing here talking to you
That when that final moment comes and I'm breathing my last breath
I'll be saying to myself

Is that all there is
Is that all there is
If that's all there is, my friends
Then let's keep dancing
Let's break out the booze and have a ball
If that's all there is