A little flyer announcing some of our current food specials:
She was black as the night;
Louie was whiter than white,
Danger, danger when you taste brown sugar,
Louie fell in love overnight.
It had started out as a quiet happy hour drink in a bar close to my home. I was sipping a fruity cocktail in the afternoon while I thumbed through reports that I needed to read for work. Normally I would have had a couple drinks then cruised home for an early night’s sleep.
Mauricio ‘Shogun’ Rua vs Jon ‘Bones’ Jones (Light Heavyweight Championship)
Does anyone remember the ‘Machida era’?? I did. Didn’t last long did it. Machida was tearing through the LHW division, up until he fought my boy Rua. He was meant to be unstoppable. He was gonna hold the belt for a long time. No one could touch him. Pah. Shogun smacked him around for 5 rounds and was robbed of a decision. Cue rematch. Cue Machida getting his lights turned out in the first round and getting his orbital bone fractured for his troubles. Fools are now dubbing it the ‘Jon Jones era’. Fuck that noise. Beating the likes of Matuschenko, Brandon ‘I got cut from the UFC because Im total and utter shit’ Vera, Matt ‘Deaf Boy’ Hamill and Stephan Bonnar holds no weight with me. He did have an impressive sub win over Ryan Bader in his last fight, but Bader isn’t what Id call ‘elite’
Sunday – Fuck knows how I managed it, but I made it to mothers hotel for 9am. A herculean effort on my part. Boy done good. Whats even more amazing, is that MotherPenfold seemed to have absolutlely no idea that I havent slept a wink. Told her I packed-up-shop at 2am when LMV headed home. I think if I fessed-up to getting high with homosexuals and homeboys in a fag-pit in OnNut, and barebacking a hooker til she bled all over my fucking sheets which I really need to sort out before LMV sees them, else shes gonna ring my fucking neck, it would of been as well received as a kick in the cunt
I sold it. She bought it. A transaction of mis-truths.
After a day of throwing up and generally feeling sorry for myself after DWIII I cut a sorry figure at the bar. Along side me sat my comrade pmmp who gave me sympathy in the format of showing people pictures he took of me with the toilet pan (removed from the toiled) around my neck with me laying in my own piss and vomit.
For as long as I’ve been in Thailand I’ve been on the same type of visa – a non-immigrant “B” visa, which has to be renewed annually and requires me to report to immigration every ninety days to say that I’m still in the country, and to update my current address.
I recently went for my ninety day report. After so many years, it should be routine, but this time it wasn’t.