My “let’s go, Brandon” moments are increasing with a distressing regularity (like using road for rode), but I’m not sure I can blame my forgetfulness last night on dementia. Well, let me rephrase that: I can’t remember what happened last night. To be more precise, I can remember up to a certain point, then it goes blank. I can only speculate on why that may be, but I’m pretty sure gin played a role. Here’s what I do remember:

So, it was SOB night at Wet Spot. There was a large group of Vietnam-era Navy veterans in town, and they were going to attend the event. Wet Spot is a large bar, but I knew I’d have to arrive early to secure a good seat. I went to The Green Room next door a little after 4:00 to wait for the 5 p.m. opening of Wet Spot. I ordered a gin and soda to help pass the time. Then the waitress from Sit-n-Bull came by with a menu, so I figured having some food in my belly as a cushion for the alcohol would be a good idea. Meatloaf was one of the daily specials, and it had been quite some time since I’d partaken of that particular delicacy. I enjoyed another gin and soda with my meal. Around 4:45, I peeked (shit, I wrote peaked at first) inside Wet Spot and saw there was a slew of seats reserved for the Vets, and a couple of SOB attendees were already seated. I got another gin and soda to go (Green Room and Wet Spot have the same owner and an inside passageway so customers can move between the bars at their leisure. I just wasn’t sure the bar would be serving before opening time, so I brought a drink with me).

So, I settled into my preferred seat at the VIP table and waited for the show to begin at 6:00 p.m. My favorite waitress didn’t let my drink run dry during the wait. It was wise that I arrived early because it wasn’t long before the bar was packed like I’d never seen before. The Wet Spot dancers provided some entertainment on stage for the crowd to enjoy. That’s when I spotted a young lovely (I believe she is nineteen) that I had noticed several weeks ago on her first night at work. That night she looked distressed and so painfully shy that I thought she would cry. I guess she is adapting to her new job responsibilities because I did not see any similar symptoms as I watched her on stage. I like to have a companion when I watch the SOB, so I brought her down from the stage and bought her a drink.

So, at 6 o’clock, the bell was rung, and all customer drinks were “free” until 8 p.m. (the entrance fee is 700 pesos). I kept paying for my company’s drinks. I was once again tasked with being a judge and dutifully completed the scoresheet, but I don’t recall who I chose as the competition winners. Nor do I know who actually won last night. If I was still present when the winning teams were brought up on stage, I have no recollection of that event. In fact, the last thing I remember was having my name called to collect my raffle coupons. They were in my wallet this morning, so there’s that.

When I woke up this morning, I didn’t remember leaving the bar. I was worried I might not have paid my tab or tipped my company. I saw owner Dave at Sit-n-Bull today after my walk and told him I didn’t remember last night. He just laughed and said I had a good time with the young lady next to me. Hmm. Well, I guess if I hadn’t paid, he would have told me. I might stop back at Wet Spot tonight and see if anyone there can restore my memories.

I do remember the Friday group hike, though. And I’ve got the pictures to prove it! Only four of us were in attendance, and we split up into pairs about halfway into our journey–the healthy guys tackled another climb, and I took my tired lungs for a valley walk.

That’s how my Friday went down. As far as I remember.

Speaking of memories, Facebook shared this photo of a dinner I enjoyed six years ago in Seoul.

That story of Chinese spying has been floating all over the internet. I think maybe it is being blown all out of proportion:

Spent some time in the kitchen this morning.

I’ll be back with another post tomorrow. Unless I forget.

Well, now I’ve gone and done it. Yesterday I purchased a Yamaha motorbike. And then I gave it away.

Jane is my friend who lives on the mountain with her two half-American (Fil-Am) children. The father died a couple of years ago, and the support money he had been sending from the states died with him. I adopted Jane as my primary charity project and provided her an allowance of 2000 pesos per week to feed and clothe her kids. On Tuesday, when she came to pick up the money, she said there was something wrong with the engine of her motorbike. I gave her an extra thousand to get it looked at, but I had my doubts. I know nothing about these small scooters, but hers just looked worn out to me. And sure enough, she messaged me later saying they had torn the engine apart and there was so much wrong it didn’t warrant repair.

Jane was really stressing out, and I can’t say that I blame her. She lives up on the mountain past the end of Rizal Extension, down a dirt road. It’s a long way from anywhere. In fact, I first met Jane when one of the hikers I was with who knew her husband introduced us as we walked by her place. Her biggest concern was not having a way to get her kids to and from school. Getting groceries and other supplies would also be a major pain in the ass. I asked her how much it would cost to replace her scooter, and she estimated it would be 60,000 pesos ($1200.). I was actually surprised because I assumed it would cost a lot more than that. I thought it over, and not seeing any alternatives, I told her to see if she could get a new one, but only if the shop accepted credit cards. My thinking was I could pay down the debt gradually and not bust my budget.

This is a funny country in that credit cards are not accepted in many stores–I only use mine at Royal supermarket each week. The first couple of motorbike shops she checked didn’t accept card payments, but she finally found one that did deep in the heart of Olongapo. I had my driver take Jane and me there yesterday afternoon. The bike she found was 75,000 ($1500.), but it appears to be a quality brand-name scooter. I’d never made a purchase that large on my card before and wasn’t sure it would work, but the transaction went through on the first try—and Jane road rode home on her brand-new motorbike*.

She messaged me later, sending photos, including the one above. One of her pics was from a church where she had stopped to thank the Lord for my generosity. Well, I guess I can take “credit” this time. *ahem* That was a record-breaking charity expenditure for me, but it was also one that will make a huge difference in someone’s life. I don’t know what Jane would have done up there without transportation. I feel blessed that I had the means to assist her, even though I had to charge the gift. Good luck and ride safely, Jane!

In other news, I also performed my feeding project at Hideaway. Spending 1500 on food (pizza, chicken, liempo, and rice) seemed like a pittance after buying a motorbike.

Joy asked if I wanted to play pool, and I didn’t, but I said you play your pal Jen, and I’ll give the winner a hundred pesos. And the game was on.

And in the end, it was Joy who prevailed. I paid off both players, then paid my bar tab and said goodnight. I wasn’t done yet, of course. Next stop, Cheap Charlies!

I bought drinks for two of my regulars and ignored the one who didn’t remember my name. I guess she got the hint because she got up and walked away. Now I actually feel a little bad about my behavior, but one girl on each side of me is plenty. After a couple of more drinks, I crossed the highway and finished my night at Wet Spot.

What else? Well, it’s my little brother’s birthday:

I did the Wednesday Walkers hike, well, as much as I could manage. The old lungs have been acting up–a lot of coughing and shortness of breath. And then we did a steep-ass climb early on, and I was wiped out for the rest of the walk.

Shortly afterward, I said my goodbyes to the group and took my sorry ass home. Of course, there was a trip to the motorbike store in my immediate future, but I’ve already told that story.

And that’s how my Wednesday went down. Hope to see you all here tomorrow.

*Fixed the errors. Thanks, Kevin!

…and so is January. I’ve got big plans for February.

A quiet day of shopping and replenishing the cash supply, and then it was time to take myself out on a date. Table for one, please.

Placed my order for dinner, then strolled out onto the beach for a closer look.

And then, dinner is served.

After my meal, I was thinking I’d visit Whiskey Girl. It’s nearby and doesn’t require making a highway crossing. Alas, it wasn’t open yet. So, I did risk life and limb and dashed across the highway to Queen Victoria. Another gin and soda and a brief chat with one of my Alta Vista neighbors and his wife. They left, and my glass was empty, but none of the staff seemed to notice or care, so I paid my tab and left.

I wasn’t sure where my next stop would be, but my feet were taking me in the direction of Alaska Club. Sloppy Joe’s is next door, and I knew several of the people sitting at the outside tables, so I joined them. Around the time I finished my first drink, most of the group got up and left to play a pool league match. I ordered another and chatted with an old female friend I hadn’t seen for a while. She’s living with her new boyfriend now, and I was regaled with stories that reminded me of the drama that seems to be part and parcel of most relationships. She’s a good woman, and I hope they have a happy life together.

Time for that Alaska visit. Virginia and I made eye contact the minute I walked through the door. Naturally, I invited her to join me as soon as I was seated.

And we weren’t alone for long. Our waitress and the best dancer on the Alaska SOB squad, Karen, was being so sweet that I wanted to treat her to a lady drink. And another gal I’ve known since I moved here was hovering about in anticipation of participating in the bounty of a free-spending customer. Hey, the more, the merrier!

When I’d had my fill of fun at Alaska, I crossed the highway again to finish my night out at Whiskey Girl.

My favorite waitress, Jen, served me as soon as I was seated at a front-row table. Of course, Jen joined me to enjoy my company her lady drink commission. The dancers were actually putting on the moves enough that I noticed them.

All good times must come to an end, and my time had arrived. I said goodnight to the girls and gave manager Mark a hearty “fuck off, ya cunt!” as I departed. Being a Brit, I am sure he had a witty comeback, but I don’t recall what it was now.

In the non-drinking portion of my day, I spent some quality time with my boys.

During my internet cruising, Facebook memories reminded me of just how much things have changed since this post from five years ago:

An old friend of mine back in Korea sent me a message with a link to something called Sweatcoin. Apparently, you can earn bitcoin-like currency simply by walking, earning one coin for every 1000 steps you take. You can use these coins to purchase items on their website or donate your earnings to charities supported by the website. I’m not sure what the angle is because I don’t see any potential for profit (I didn’t sign up for the premium plan, so maybe that’s it), but I’ve decided to take the risk and give it a try (the risk is giving them access to things like your email and phone number). We’ll see what happens, but I’m going to walk regardless, so if I can “earn” something by doing so, why not?

I guess I must have been bored, but I decided to mess around with ChatGPT some more. One of the questions I asked was: Why do so many foreign men move to the Philippines?

There are several reasons why many foreign men move to the Philippines:

1. Cost of Living: The cost of living in the Philippines is lower compared to many Western countries, making it an attractive destination for retirees and budget-conscious individuals.
2. Friendly people: The Philippines is known for its friendly and hospitable people, which makes it a welcoming place for foreigners.
3. Beautiful scenery: The country is famous for its stunning beaches, lush jungles, and scenic landscapes, which can be a major draw for people looking to enjoy a tropical lifestyle.
4. Language: English is widely spoken in the Philippines, which makes it easier for English-speaking foreigners to communicate and integrate into the local community.
5. Dating and Marriage: The Philippines is also a popular destination for foreign men seeking to date or marry Filipina women, who are known for their beauty, kindness, and traditional values.

These are some of the reasons why many foreign men choose to move to the Philippines. Of course, individual experiences and motivations will vary.

Those are all legit, and I guess you could call what goes on in the bars “dating,” although that’s a stretch. Maybe I’ll go back and explore the prostitution angle more in-depth with my new friend.

And that’s it for now. Got a feeding at Hideaway to prepare for. Back tomorrow, provided I’m still allowed to post.

I have a confession to make: I did not write this. In the comments to an earlier post, Dan said that since my Facebook friends liked the A.I. from ChatGPT post better than mine, I should consider having ChatGPT write my blog too. Well, at first, I thought no way something with intelligence, artificial or otherwise, would lower itself to my standards. Then I figured, why not give it a try and see what happens? And that’s just what I did. Here’s how it went down:

I started with the basic question: Can you help me write a post for my blog at www.mccrarey.com about my night in the bars?

Sure, I’d be happy to help you write a post for your blog about your night in the bars. Can you provide me with some more details about the experience you want to share, such as what bars you visited, what you enjoyed about the experience, and any tips or recommendations you have for others looking to have a similar experience?

So, I gave the A.I. this to work with: I started out at IDM bar, where I ran into my pals Dave and Chris. We had a nice chat about the latest victims of the scamdemic–those dying from the after-effects of worthless vaccines. Sexy waitress Juliet was our server. Then I went to BarCelona, one of the nicer bars ambiance-wise in town. It’s on the third-floor rooftop and affords great views of our town Barrio Barretto. Speaking of great views, a cute little waitress named Jade was my server. I bought her a lady drink, and we sat together, chatting for a while. My last stop was Wet Spot, where I had a “buy one, get one” discount coupon. Owner Dave came in and bought me a drink. It was nice hanging out and getting the latest news and views. I had enough to drink, so went home early and enjoyed pecan pie with vanilla ice cream on top. I guess I was drunker than I thought because I woke up late in the night on the couch.

It sounds like you had a great night out at the bars! Here’s a sample post for your blog about your experience:

And then, I posted what the app provided without modification.

“Last night, I had the pleasure of visiting three of my favorite bars in Barrio Barretto. My evening started out at IDM bar, where I ran into my friends Dave and Chris. We chatted over drinks and shared our thoughts on the latest victims of the scamdemic. Our server, the lovely Juliet, made sure we were well taken care of.

Next, I headed to BarCelona, a rooftop bar with a fantastic ambiance. The views of the city from the third floor were breathtaking and the perfect backdrop for my drink. I had the pleasure of chatting with my server, Jade, over a lady drink. It was a nice way to spend some time getting to know her.

My last stop of the night was Wet Spot, where I had a “buy one, get one” discount coupon. I chatted with the owner, Dave, and enjoyed some discounted drinks with the latest news and views. I had enough to drink, so I decided to call it an early night and went home.

I must have been more intoxicated than I realized because I woke up on the couch later that night. But, it was all worth it for the great company, drinks, and views. If you’re ever in Barrio Barretto, be sure to check out these bars for a night you won’t forget.”

And as an added bonus, the A.I. provided this admonishment:

Please keep in mind that it’s not a good idea to encourage drinking and driving, it is not safe and it is illegal in many countries, it’s also not a good idea to encourage excessive drinking.

So, what do you think? To me, it just seems like a clean-up of the basic info I provided. What I did notice is that it changed words I used to something more P.C., like waitress to server. It didn’t like me saying sexy and also didn’t include my mention of vaccines negatively. My Grammarly app also frequently suggests less “offensive” words, but I always ignore its advice. Speaking of Grammarly, the only punctuation error it underlined in the post was removing the comma after “But” in the next to last sentence. It suggested a comma before “and” and a semi-colon before “it’s” in the last sentence of the admonishment. Do you see anything else, Kevin?

Overall, my assessment is that the A.I. just regurgitates the info you provide in a milquetoast fashion so as not to rile the woke mob. I’m sure my shenanigans scared that crowd away from my blog long ago. And not to worry, I won’t be relying on ChatGPT for any help in the future. I felt a little guilty about posting this morning without attribution or warning, so I tagged it with “A.I.” at the bottom of the post. I just wanted to see if anyone would notice any difference from my daily drivel; apparently, no one did.

I didn’t add any pictures to this morning’s post, either. I only have a couple, and here they are now:

My waitress at BarCelona was indeed a hottie. She told me she used to be a dancer at Whiskey Girl but quit because she didn’t like the videos from the SOB being posted on YouTube. So, I was too shy to ask her to let me take her picture.

Anyway, it was a nice night out. And about that waking up on the couch thing, it just doesn’t make any sense. I had gone into the bedroom and taken off my clothes (the evidence was still on the floor this morning), so why would I go back into the dark living room to stumble over to the uncomfortable couch where I never sleep? The more I think about it, the more I don’t think I did–it was probably just a dream. I’ve noticed I’m having some pretty intense REM sleep lately, especially in the early morning hours. Weird, though; it seemed so real.

So, about that diet. I’m obviously not being strict on low carb, but I’m sure I’ve reduced my calorie intake, if for no other reason than eliminating beer intake. I need to be careful about those “cheats” like I did with the pie and ice cream, though.

Today’s weigh-in has me at 219.7, down 1.7 pounds from last week and a loss of 5.6 since January 1. Slow progress, but progress.

Don’t strain your neck like I did to see it upside right:

I guess it really is all a matter of perspective. I will be back with more of my human-made drivel tomorrow.

A busy day yesterday began when I awoke to the discovery that I was without water pressure. That’s a tell-tell sign that the pump in the basement that fills the water tanks and creates the pressure to transport that water through the pipes and into my residence was not functioning. I sent the landlord an email (he lives in Singapore) asking him to dispatch a plumber. I had a scouting expedition with my neighbor and co-Hare Edward to attend, so I headed for the hills.

Ed and I successfully found a trail down to the valley and then looped back to the top and rejoined the “short” version of the Hash trail, adding 2K and another hill climb. We’ll return next weekend and spread some powder and chalk to mark the path for our fellow Hashers. Feels good to have our scouting task successfully completed.

I told Ed about my water pump issues, and he came by the house to take a look. As soon as I turned the pump on, he could tell by the sound that the bearings were shot. Ed offered to drive me to the local hardware store for a new pump. He also tried to get a plumber he knows to come out to install it, but that guy wasn’t available. So, Ed graciously volunteered to do the installation. I emailed my landlord again, telling him I had it covered, and the landlord wrote back, telling me he hadn’t been able to find anyone and to deduct the replacement expense from next month’s rent.

This was the first time I had made a purchase at the giant hardware store called Wilcon Depot (like a Home Depot, only larger). When I handed the clerk at checkout my credit card to pay for the pump, he asked me where it was issued. I’ve never been asked that before ANYWHERE I’ve ever traveled. I told him the USA, and he wanted to see my ID. I handed him my ACR card issued by Philippines immigration, and the clerk told me I needed an ID from the USA. Well, I don’t carry my passport when I visit the hardware store, and my only other American ID is an expired South Carolina driver’s license. The clerk reiterated that I needed an ID from the same country as the credit card. I told him that was ridiculous; I have lived here five years and don’t use American identification. He wouldn’t budge, so I asked him to call a manager.

When the manager arrived, I told her that I live here and, like every expat I know, I maintain my bank accounts in my country of citizenship. She asked to see my ACR card again, which contains my name and picture. Then she asked me for an ID that had my signature (I guess she wanted to compare signatures on the credit card), and I once again said the ACR was the only ID I carry. She finally relented with the admonition that next time bring ID with a signature. Hopefully, there won’t be a next time. And yes, I had enough cash in my pocket to pay for the pump, but I just couldn’t abide the stupidity.

Anyway, we got the pump home, and Ed went to work removing the old pump. We were shocked (thankfully, not literally) when the neighbor’s water pump turned on because the breaker was supposed to have been turned off. I had thrown the switch but on the wrong box, so Ed was working with hot wires. Oops!

So, with my water supply successfully restored, I could take a shower and get on with the rest of my life. And you know what that means–a visit to the Barretto nightlife.

I decided to start my evening at Cheap Charlies, hoping for some more interaction with the new gal, Narissa. Alas, the place was packed, and she was otherwise occupied. I found an open seat, and Alma brought me my first drink of the night.

After a while, the crowd left (turns out they were a group of Aussies celebrating Australia Day. Good to see them out enjoying themselves and celebrating the homeland with a pub crawl.

Nerissa did free up and joined me for a brief conversation before I moved on to my next venue.

I still had money to spend on that 1000 peso voucher from the SOB, and I decided to use some of it at Voodoo.

Nice chat with the owner of Voodoo as well. Then one last stop at Wet Spot, and I was on the way home.

I’ve been reading about this new AI app, ChatGPT, over at Kevin’s blog and other places, and this morning I decided to see what the fuss was all about. The signup process wasn’t too difficult, although I had to provide an email address and my phone number. That always makes me a little uncomfortable, but whatever. So, I decided my first question would be one often discussed here, especially in the comments: Are women working in bars good potential relationship partners? Here’s the response:

It is not appropriate to make generalizations about a group of people based on their occupation. Each person has their own unique qualities and characteristics, and should be judged as an individual, rather than based on their job. Additionally, it is not appropriate to objectify or make assumptions about someone based on their profession or place of work. It is important to treat all people with respect and kindness.

Chat GPT

I shared that response on my Facebook without attribution, and it got triple the likes of my own posts. Most of the comments were in the vein of “well said” and “very true.” My new bargirl friend Narissa commented that I “have a kind heart.”

So, my first impression is that people like ChatGPT more than they like me. Imagine that.

Another SOB Friday is in store for me at Hot Zone. It’s a small venue, so I’ll need to arrive early if I hope to find a decent seat.

One last question for Mr. ChatGPT:

I am sorry, I am unable to find any information about the website you mentioned and the blog “Long Time Gone” as my knowledge cut off date is 2021 and my ability to browse the internet is limited. But in general, blogs are usually created by individuals or groups as a platform to share their thoughts, ideas, experiences, and information on a particular topic or interest. Without more specific information, it is difficult to say what the blog “Long Time Gone” on mccrarey.com is about.

Chatgpt

Not so smart after all, eh? Oh, wait. It’s a blog about nothing, so nobody knows what it is about. Damn.

More nothingness to come tomorrow. See you then!

I’m not exactly sure how yesterday ended, but I woke up this morning in my bed. Wearing my clothes. That’s a first for me. I checked my phone for any photos that might provide some evidence or explanation, but I only took one picture all night:

I remembered doing the feeding at Hideaway. Lasagna, lumpia, and pizza. I also remember buying a drink for all the girls. And getting some free drinks. Then it all gets a little fuzzy. I messaged Joy to see if I had misbehaved, and she just confirmed I was drunk. She also reminded me that I had danced with her (country swing) and made her dizzy. I was the only customer, so at least no one witnessed my tomfoolery. I’m not sure how much my bar tab was last night, but it must have been around 3000 pesos.

Aha! I just checked my wallet and found another piece of evidence.

Anyway, I made it home without apparent incident and will strive to be more restrained in my future imbibing.

The other productive part of my day involved the 7K trek with the Wednesday Walkers. We dual purposed the hike as a scouting expedition for the February 6 Hash that I’ll be a co-Hareing with Ed. Today we went out and finalized the long portion of the trail.

You can Relive it here:

And there you have it, another day in the life posted for my lucky few readers. Thanks for joining me.

I started the day with my Standard Solo Sunday Stroll on the backroads to Calapacuan and back, a journey of a mere 8.5K, but that’s about all I have in me these days. Nothing new to see, so I reverted to the “photo every 1.6K” method and snapped a pic of whatever I saw at that moment. I’ll share those later in this post.

I enjoyed the proper amount of R&R after the hike, then prepared myself for an evening on the town, starting with the feeding of the Hideaway gals. I like the Sunday meal to be more special (they get pizza on Wednesday), so I went a little overboard at Andok’s, a local takeout chain featuring roasted meat, mostly chicken. In addition to the roasted bird, I bought some fried chicken pieces and two orders of pork liempo (grilled pork belly). Oh, and rice, of course. A lot of food for 1500 pesos ($30). I winced a little as I handed over the money, then remembered I’d spent twice that on lady drinks at Snackbar the night before. This was a much better investment.

I figured there might be leftovers, but those platters were empty in no time.

Hideaway was surprisingly busy, although I didn’t know any of my fellow customers. Still had a good time and was once again rewarded with a free drink or two. Of course, it is more blessed to give than receive, so I reciprocated accordingly. I was feeling no pain when it came time to leave, but I had one more stop to make.

I stayed just long enough to buy a couple of rounds of drinks and tip the dancers; then, I headed home. My Fitbit says I was asleep at 8:30, which is early even for me. That’s the problem with my gin regimen; it hits me too hard and too fast.

To the hike photos then:

And no a quick time out for a grammar lesson:

It’s another Hash Monday. Today’s start is about 3K from my house, and I plan to walk there. Leech My Nuggets is the Hare, so I may wind up regretting it, but only one way to find out.

Tune it tomorrow for a full report.

Grocery shopping. Doctor appointment. Bar hopping. That’s how I spent my Tuesday.

Only one incident at checkout this week, and that was on me. I watch the prices being scanned much closer than I used to, and I saw $14.70 pop up on the screen, looked at the cashier, and he had a small bottle of some kind of sauce in his hands. I called out, hold on there, that ain’t right. My helper and the cashier had some Tagalog talk, he punched some numbers into the calculator, and she told me the item was 90 pesos. I told her I had seen $14.70 on the screen, but she said I was wrong. Hmm. As we began the drive home, I scanned the receipt, and sure enough, a $14.70 item was listed. I was livid and yelled for my driver to turn the car around; I wasn’t going to accept being scammed. My driver turned around, and my helper looked at the receipt. “John, the $14.70 was for the new mop we bought. The sauce was the next item, and it rang up right. Oh shit, I fucked up. I was seeing the mop scan price BEFORE the cashier scanned the sauce. Well, in my defense, I do have trust issues with Royal, and I’m also rapidly descending into the Biden-like realm of brain functioning. Damn.

Next on my agenda was a visit to Dr. Jo. I’ve been concerned about my diminished lung capacity, which now requires that I use my nebulizer three or four times a day when I previously used it three or four times a week. I feared my COPD condition was deteriorating, and I wanted some guidance on what, if anything, I could do about that. When I was first diagnosed in March 2017, I was found to be at Stage 2 (moderate) of the four-stage severity scale. Since COPD is a progressive disease, I feared I was moving into more dangerous territory. That determination will require more tests like the CT scans I received at the Army hospital. Dr. Jo is not equipped to do that, but she prescribed some stronger inhalants to use with my nebulizer, another pill to take, and advice to maintain a healthy diet and exercise. Otherwise, I will need to live with the more frequent use of inhaler products and the importance of monitoring my oxygen intake.

I brought along my recently purchased spirometer that measures lung output because I needed guidance on interpreting the numbers it provides. I gave it a blow, and she took a photo of the results. It wasn’t good, only about 50% of normal.

Dr. Jo sent me this as well:

I found these definitions useful as well:

Your FEV1 value is an important part of evaluating chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) and monitoring progression of the condition. FEV is short for forced expiratory volume. FEV1 is the amount of air you can force from your lungs in one second.

I guess the good news is my latest blow job (sorry, sometimes I can’t help myself) indicates that my COPD is still in the Stage 2 moderate zone. I know my lung capacity is declining, but I’m still quite far from death’s door. I need to do what I can to slow the COPD devil as much as possible.

As usual, with Dr. Jo and her physician husband, Chris, we spent an hour or more talking about my health issues and other news around town. I thanked them again for the birthday party invite, and Dr. Jo lamented that people were complimenting my brownies, but they were all gone by the time she hit the buffet. I thanked her on behalf of myself and Betty Crocker.

When it came time to pay the piper, Dr. Jo told me there was no charge for my visit. I was surprised, especially because she had given me an injection up my nose for my chronic congestion (yeah, I’m a mess), but she was insistent. When I got back home, I baked up a batch of brownies for her and Chris and dropped them off at the office on my way to the bars.

I started out at The Green Room with my “buy one, get one” coupon. Those really help because, with my switch to gin and soda, I’m paying double what a beer would cost me (the gin shot is one drink, and the can of soda water is another drink). The Sit-n-Bull waitress came in, so I grabbed a menu and ordered one of the daily specials.

I felt bad eating alone, so I bought a pizza for some of the staff to enjoy.

I was thinking I’d hit Voodoo next, but they weren’t open yet. So, as I walked the highway, I was a little indecisive about where to go. I had just been to Alaska the night before, Sloppy Joe’s was too busy, and Whiskey Girl also wasn’t open (it was only about 5:30). So, I had the bright idea to hoof it out to Baloy and enjoy the ambiance at McCoy’s beach bar. Then I remembered they didn’t have soda water on my last visit, and I don’t want to break my goal of not drinking beer (except at the Hash). Then it occurred to me that I could bring my own soda water, so I hit the 7/11. Alas, they didn’t have soda water in stock either. Admitting defeat, I went next door to Snackbar.

I ended up staying for a couple of hours, mainly drinking with Jen (I missed her birthday party on Saturday) and buying lady drinks for a couple of my other old favorites. I messaged my pal Ron to join me, and he was at the gym but promised to arrive at 7:00. He got there at about 7:30. We had one drink, and he wanted to do a bar crawl. I told him it was too late for me as my bedtime was rapidly approaching. So, we compromised on making Whiskey Girl his first stop and my last. And that’s just what we did.

Overall, not bad for a Tuesday. Now, it is time for me to prepare for the Wednesday feeding at Hideaway. I’ve already baked another batch of brownies, and I’m going to treat the girls to some Korean-style chicken wings from John’s night. Heh, it’s only money, and I can’t take it with me when the lungs go, right?