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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And we’ll all be dressed in red.

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

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

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

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

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

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

After my hike, I got busy in the kitchen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, that leaves the hike photos.

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

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

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

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

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

Here’s what my bar hop looked like:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Come Christmas; it will be taking me here:

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe that’s why I’m single…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s the news from here today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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