and I say tomato. Hmmm. That's not such a good play on words when you write it down. For anyone who may have noticed that my last entry was a little subdued you should note that I just found out my parents read this blog, so was afraid of saying things like fuck, cunt and arsehole, although I'm over that now. In fact... FUCKYCUNTINGARSEHOLE!! Actually, it's just occurred to me that swearing is another luxury enjoyed by adults of all walks of like and denied to their offspring, until they are paying rent.
Anyway, this one will be a movie review as it's the only thing to do in Changers when it rains, and it's always fucking raining. So there'll be some new releases as well as some dvd's from a while ago that I've only bothered my arse to watch now. Or a 'retro' segment as it's known in the trade. So in no particular order...
Pirates of the Caribbean
I cant see what all the bad vibes are for. It's an action movie about pirates for fuck's sake. What did you expect? Not the best of the three, I'll grant you but Johnny Depp still melts my heart, and Jeffery Rush gives another stellar performance. Not to mention it's got Keef Richards from the Stones in it, and perhaps most importantly, pirates aaar cool!
Rocky Balboa
Well if you liked the first movie a bit, the second one a lot, the third one even more, the fourth one not as much as the second and the fifth one kind of hard to get into because it's not the big man doing the fighting, well you're going to like this one exactly the same amount as you liked the first one cause its basically the same story. Rocky mopes about for a while, decides to fight, everyone tells him no, cut to soul searching montage, then he realises he has to get in shape, cut to training montage, then he wins everyone back in a 'please forgive me, I'm just a simple man with a dream to follow' montage complete with speech and finally 9, 3 minute rounds of boxing, condensed into 4 minutes, followed by 1, final 3 minute round, stretched out over 12 and a half minutes. And I fucking loved every minute of it.
Spiderman 3
Meh.
Pathfinder
In keeping with the government warning schemes, this movie may well carry the Caveat;
Caution: This may be the shittest movie ever. Indeed this may well be the worst idea ever converted to celluloid.
Contrary to the title, the film meanders rather unskillfully through a series of ill-conceived plot hooks, like a German panzer through a Ukrainian farm, circa 1942. After only an hour or two of toothache like agony we come thundering towards a monumental anti-climax that leaves one feeling like a man leaving a 'happy finish' massage parlour staffed entirely by fat mama-sans. For those that don't know it's being just a little disgusted with your self for not getting up and leaving sooner. Not to mention wondering why you didn't stay at home and have a wank instead.
Right, on to the Dvd's...
The Last Samurai
Or should I say Dances With Wolves II: Dances With Samurai. Although Dances With Wolves should have been called A Man Called Horse II: A Man Called Dances With Wolves. So I guess The Last Samurai should have been called, A Man Called Horse III: A Man Called Dances With Samurai. Right, well now that I've cleared that up, I have to say I love this movie, even if Mount Fuji makes as many appearances as the Eiffel tower does in every movie to get within 100 miles of Paris. Having said that, during a particularly biblical rainstorm, when I was forced to stay in I ended up watching the movie with the commentary by Edward Zwick. Jesus Wept. How self absorbed is that guy. Fuck me, you'd swear he was there 13th fucking apostle, the sanctimonious prick. Wah Wah Wah, I worked so hard to make this movie. It's your job dickhead, someone paid you a shed load of money to sit around shouting at actors. I swear if he could suck his own dick, he'd swallow.
The break up
Comedy? Or painful reminder of how tedious existence becomes when your still going out with someone whose very hair you despise, a person for whom no traffic accident is too gruesome, but you haven't got the minerals to dump? Show some fucking backbone, for pity's sake.
Anchorman
Hell's fucking teeth. Have we become so jaded that anyone will do for a comedy hero? Are we so desperate for a comedic icon that we'll accept an open mike night runner-up, spoon feeding us 20 year old Monty Python rip offs? Don't get me wrong I got a few chuckles out of it, but for fuck's sake I can get a few chuckles out of the special Olympics too. Particularly the running events for some reason. But I digress. Does anyone remember when we started accepting sub standard comedy as ok? We are now drowning in the shit spewed forth from such hacks as Catherine Tate, those little Britain fucktards and the Hollywood cash cow, Will fucking Ferrel 'comedies'. And we have only ourselves to blame for watching it. For shame.
It may become apparent to some of you, as it did to me, that I have become an embittered old bollox and that I am just incapable of feeling good emotions any more. That's what I thought until I saw...
Clerks II
Could whoever is closest to Kevin Smith, please suck his dick. But tell him it's from me. Thanks.
All I'll say is, if you haven't already, watch this movie. Easily the funniest thing I remember watching.
Uuuuurgh! And I'm spent. Bus fare's on the table baby, beat it.
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Hooray for everything
Greetings true believers. I have been very busy the last few weeks staging my triumphant return to the ring. Also, I've been humming the Rocky theme quite a bit. Though it's no biggie if I don't make it as a fighter, as I still have the options of guitar hero or bmx bandit waiting for me.
Found a decent enough restaurant but almost ended up staying the night. I kept trying to get the waitresses attention but she kept sailing past. I made a show of tossing my napkin down on my plate, audibly draining my glass for the tenth time. What else could I throw on the table to show her I was finished? Well, my fucking fist for starters, but I thought better of it.
I was heading into town the other day when a big guy on a moped offered me a lift, in exchange for some petrol money of course, but still cheaper than a taxi. The deal was struck and off we set, but ran into a detour which brought us miles away from the road we should have been on and into the sticks. I started to get a bit paranoid at that stage 'This is it', I thought, 'buggered to death in a field by some giant right wing fascist'. I hope they spell my name right in the paper.
Is anyone else pissed off with their parents telling them that life is no less 'unfair' for grown ups? I fucking am. As I smoked my head off on the roof an apartment block in town, watching the sun go down and chatting with friends I realised that this was a lot more fair than taking the garbage out on a rainy Sunday night, or doing homework while all the good telly was on. Even something as simple as ruining my appetite by eating sweets between meals has an almost perverse pleasure for me now.
Other than that I've been lashing into the training as hard as I can, though it's a struggle to get my fitness back up, now that the heat has gone up. Taking time off training is a slippery slope, much like a smack addiction. It starts as a 'once off' but quickly develops into a habit. It's a good time to get back into it as well as the gym is quietened down a bit at the moment, with people heading off and not many tourists. We even lost our resident London wide boy cockney. All guns and machetes. He rather reminds me of a guy I know in Dublin. He's a champion weight lifter, a security guard, a cage fighter, but mostly he's a bullshitter.
Anyway, I'm away. But I will return in a few days with my movie review of 2007.
Later squares
Found a decent enough restaurant but almost ended up staying the night. I kept trying to get the waitresses attention but she kept sailing past. I made a show of tossing my napkin down on my plate, audibly draining my glass for the tenth time. What else could I throw on the table to show her I was finished? Well, my fucking fist for starters, but I thought better of it.
I was heading into town the other day when a big guy on a moped offered me a lift, in exchange for some petrol money of course, but still cheaper than a taxi. The deal was struck and off we set, but ran into a detour which brought us miles away from the road we should have been on and into the sticks. I started to get a bit paranoid at that stage 'This is it', I thought, 'buggered to death in a field by some giant right wing fascist'. I hope they spell my name right in the paper.
Is anyone else pissed off with their parents telling them that life is no less 'unfair' for grown ups? I fucking am. As I smoked my head off on the roof an apartment block in town, watching the sun go down and chatting with friends I realised that this was a lot more fair than taking the garbage out on a rainy Sunday night, or doing homework while all the good telly was on. Even something as simple as ruining my appetite by eating sweets between meals has an almost perverse pleasure for me now.
Other than that I've been lashing into the training as hard as I can, though it's a struggle to get my fitness back up, now that the heat has gone up. Taking time off training is a slippery slope, much like a smack addiction. It starts as a 'once off' but quickly develops into a habit. It's a good time to get back into it as well as the gym is quietened down a bit at the moment, with people heading off and not many tourists. We even lost our resident London wide boy cockney. All guns and machetes. He rather reminds me of a guy I know in Dublin. He's a champion weight lifter, a security guard, a cage fighter, but mostly he's a bullshitter.
Anyway, I'm away. But I will return in a few days with my movie review of 2007.
Later squares
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
The Pacifier
Or the fucking blatant propaganda machine, as it should have been known. I watched this Vin Diesel classic the other day, and thought nothing of it until the near the end, when the bad guys turned out to be from North Korea. Of all the countries in the world it could have been, it turned out to be the the one that the Great American Warlord will probably be fighting in next. Call it a hunch, a bout of paranoia, women's intuition but mark my words, they are trying to get a generation of American to distrust the Koreans. And while we're on the subject of America, unless your name starts with an adjective and ends with an animal, you are not allowed to say word one about 'immigrants'. You ungrateful pigdogs.
Back training hard now, after a week on the beer with Kevin 'deathwish' Douglas. Not an entire week, but more than a couple of glasses of sherry, so I'm hurting all over. I will have to go back to the adult sweet shop, or the pharmacy as it's known locally. The law over here seems to be that if you can pronounce it, or point to it on a shelf you can buy it. Valium for instance, only comes with 2 questions; what strength and how many? God bless you drugs, you haven't let us down yet.
My last bit of news this week is a bizarre event that keeps happening. Infrequently mind you, but more than once or twice. When I take my shoes off to go in places (friends houses, net cafes etc.) dogs amble over and nick my shoes. This can mean only 3 things
1) I am part of an elaborate hoax, designed to make me think I'm mad,
2) I actually am mad, or
3) My feet smell like dog food.
I'm not sure which one I should be rooting for.
Anyway, that's all you're getting from me.
Bysies.
Back training hard now, after a week on the beer with Kevin 'deathwish' Douglas. Not an entire week, but more than a couple of glasses of sherry, so I'm hurting all over. I will have to go back to the adult sweet shop, or the pharmacy as it's known locally. The law over here seems to be that if you can pronounce it, or point to it on a shelf you can buy it. Valium for instance, only comes with 2 questions; what strength and how many? God bless you drugs, you haven't let us down yet.
My last bit of news this week is a bizarre event that keeps happening. Infrequently mind you, but more than once or twice. When I take my shoes off to go in places (friends houses, net cafes etc.) dogs amble over and nick my shoes. This can mean only 3 things
1) I am part of an elaborate hoax, designed to make me think I'm mad,
2) I actually am mad, or
3) My feet smell like dog food.
I'm not sure which one I should be rooting for.
Anyway, that's all you're getting from me.
Bysies.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Humourous title on backorder
Right so. Went to Burma again. Fuck me, what a dump. Actually Burma, or Myanmar as it is now known, is lovely but the border town I passed is a fucking hole. It is so bad that people from Bangkok could legitimately be disgusted by it.
Anyway, got on this little mini bus at 7am and was almost instantly joined by an aging, none to gracefully, Canadian hippie and I'm struck at how instantly annoying she is. I'm sure she could have been classed as presentable in the 60's but it's obvious that she has seen better decades. One of these women that's been all over, although I must point out that it's been all over here too, by the looks of it. Her very first words to me are 'OH, we booked those seats. Me and my boyfriend always sit there'. Now, for those that don't know, nothing in Thailand is ever booked or reserved or anything else like it, and I could definitely win the argument, if I'm bothered but I can see that this woman is a succubus and immediately relent. 'No problem', I shout over my shoulder as I move to the opposite end of the bus, my bouncy senses tingling. And as usual, they are dead right. Straight away she starts a fight with her Thai boyfriend. 'Say something nice Mark', 'Pay me a compliment mark', 'Acknowledge me when I speak Mark', she begins, barely able to contain the overwhelming self pity. It is about this time, I realise, I will have to kill her. 'Why don't you send me any (wait for it) positive energy Mark? Hmmm? Why? I am always sending you my energy. What about all that (again, wait for it) sexual energy I sent you last night?' It is about this time, I realise I will have to be very sick before I can kill anyone. 'Tip me the wink and we'll kill her together, Mark', I project, but unfortunately Mark isn't psychic. Mark has the right idea though and turns up his i-pod earphones, lowers his shades and settles back for a snooze.
I spend the rest of the journey with a nice elderly gent from the Netherlands. Although as our journey goes on I realise I am not getting the whole truth. I suspect he may be a Nazi war criminal and start to weigh up the evidence,
1. He hasn't been to Holland in over 30 years and wont say why.
2. He changes the subject every time I try and talk about the war
3. He has one of those serial killer moustasches.
4. Probably the most damning piece of evidence, I have read a book on Nazi hunters and want to be one.
An interesting phenomenon about Thai culture (no link to the Visa story by the way) is the age disparity in relationships. 30 year old guys like to go out with girls around 18 to 20. And the 18 to 20 year olds like to go out with girls around 14. I can only assume that the 14 year olds like to go out with foetus'. I mean, I know it's part of the culture and all, but if my 18 year old daughter came home with a 30 year old on her arm I would probaly just lock in her room for another 18 years, mumbling about how I knew it was too early to let her out. But the 30 year old who thought he was on to a good thing turning up at my daughters place would be beaten black and fucking blue, the cheeky fucker.
Lastly, I started grappling with Pedro Lott, from Brazilian Top Team this week. Very enjoyable but very hard. Not the lessons, he is actually a very good teacher, with a laid back style and manner that makes it very easy to grasp and remember, but the guy himself. It's like wrestling a bag of angry snakes at bedtime.
Anyway, that's all for this week. Be good.
Anyway, got on this little mini bus at 7am and was almost instantly joined by an aging, none to gracefully, Canadian hippie and I'm struck at how instantly annoying she is. I'm sure she could have been classed as presentable in the 60's but it's obvious that she has seen better decades. One of these women that's been all over, although I must point out that it's been all over here too, by the looks of it. Her very first words to me are 'OH, we booked those seats. Me and my boyfriend always sit there'. Now, for those that don't know, nothing in Thailand is ever booked or reserved or anything else like it, and I could definitely win the argument, if I'm bothered but I can see that this woman is a succubus and immediately relent. 'No problem', I shout over my shoulder as I move to the opposite end of the bus, my bouncy senses tingling. And as usual, they are dead right. Straight away she starts a fight with her Thai boyfriend. 'Say something nice Mark', 'Pay me a compliment mark', 'Acknowledge me when I speak Mark', she begins, barely able to contain the overwhelming self pity. It is about this time, I realise, I will have to kill her. 'Why don't you send me any (wait for it) positive energy Mark? Hmmm? Why? I am always sending you my energy. What about all that (again, wait for it) sexual energy I sent you last night?' It is about this time, I realise I will have to be very sick before I can kill anyone. 'Tip me the wink and we'll kill her together, Mark', I project, but unfortunately Mark isn't psychic. Mark has the right idea though and turns up his i-pod earphones, lowers his shades and settles back for a snooze.
I spend the rest of the journey with a nice elderly gent from the Netherlands. Although as our journey goes on I realise I am not getting the whole truth. I suspect he may be a Nazi war criminal and start to weigh up the evidence,
1. He hasn't been to Holland in over 30 years and wont say why.
2. He changes the subject every time I try and talk about the war
3. He has one of those serial killer moustasches.
4. Probably the most damning piece of evidence, I have read a book on Nazi hunters and want to be one.
An interesting phenomenon about Thai culture (no link to the Visa story by the way) is the age disparity in relationships. 30 year old guys like to go out with girls around 18 to 20. And the 18 to 20 year olds like to go out with girls around 14. I can only assume that the 14 year olds like to go out with foetus'. I mean, I know it's part of the culture and all, but if my 18 year old daughter came home with a 30 year old on her arm I would probaly just lock in her room for another 18 years, mumbling about how I knew it was too early to let her out. But the 30 year old who thought he was on to a good thing turning up at my daughters place would be beaten black and fucking blue, the cheeky fucker.
Lastly, I started grappling with Pedro Lott, from Brazilian Top Team this week. Very enjoyable but very hard. Not the lessons, he is actually a very good teacher, with a laid back style and manner that makes it very easy to grasp and remember, but the guy himself. It's like wrestling a bag of angry snakes at bedtime.
Anyway, that's all for this week. Be good.
Monday, April 16, 2007
3 months high and rising
Well, I have 3 months under my belt now and I have to go and get my Visa stamped by a sadistic border guard, who I'm fairly sure will have lost his enthusiasm for his job around the same time as his will to live, ability to ignore his wife's ugliness and his power to disregard his failing as a parent. "How do you know so much, oh wise and powerful Dave?" I hear you ask. By the way, you forget to mention handsome. Well reader, oh, and modest, it's because I met him last week and like the fun loving rogue he is, refused to stamp my passport because I was ten minutes late. The Cunt. The massive Cunt.
Finished my massage course on Friday, which was really good but by the end of it I had grabbed more nuts than a hungry squirrel who just found out that this year the family wont be sharing.
The Songkran festival ended today. Traditionally, the Thais would sprinkle water on the back of each other's necks, to wash away the bad luck of last year and prepare them for a fortuitous new year, then they would do the same for the Buddha statues using perfumed oil. However, these days it's more like a city-wide water fight, between 200,000 happy revellers, with neither sides nor rules. Great fun actually. I know it sounds like a pain in the arse but once you accept that no matter how hard you try, you'll be soaked. Some cruel fuckers melt ice into their water so it's freezing once it hits you, though someone usually gets you with some warm water from the moat shortly afterwards. Moat water, pleasant on the skin but not entirely delicious. So yeah, it's fun for a few days but like a guy at a party who's only joke is to punch your shoulder really hard, it gets old fairly quick. So if your going to Thailand, try and go during Songkran, a festival involving thousands of fit, drunk chicks in wet t shirts. And because the Thais look so young and you can't really tell their age, it's ideal for a paedophile who doesn't really want to risk jail at the Big Tiger. Also, even if your not a racist, you can still enjoy a guilty chuckle when the Thais sing 'yerrow remon tlee'.
Got the hang of riding the bike after a few days. I'm probably get a gun next week, to complete the set. Then everyone will know I have a massive cock. Although in truth, the honeymoon with the bike and by proxy the legend of Steve Mc Queen, ended the first time it lashed rain when I was out, getting soaked, barely able to see and eating the crap from a thousand other poor saps trying to get home. And while we're on the subject, I'm not one for broad generalisations, unless it's about hookers...and unnecessarily cruel obviously, but what is the deal with Asian drivers. Holy shit, they are dangerous. Not so much in the cities but out on the motorways. I needed two hand and two feet to count the number of times we we're nearly killed driving to Burma for a look inside a fascist's hutch to watch his soul getting sucked into a gloomy void that followed him around. He is still a massive cunt.
That's all guys, talk to y'all next week.
Finished my massage course on Friday, which was really good but by the end of it I had grabbed more nuts than a hungry squirrel who just found out that this year the family wont be sharing.
The Songkran festival ended today. Traditionally, the Thais would sprinkle water on the back of each other's necks, to wash away the bad luck of last year and prepare them for a fortuitous new year, then they would do the same for the Buddha statues using perfumed oil. However, these days it's more like a city-wide water fight, between 200,000 happy revellers, with neither sides nor rules. Great fun actually. I know it sounds like a pain in the arse but once you accept that no matter how hard you try, you'll be soaked. Some cruel fuckers melt ice into their water so it's freezing once it hits you, though someone usually gets you with some warm water from the moat shortly afterwards. Moat water, pleasant on the skin but not entirely delicious. So yeah, it's fun for a few days but like a guy at a party who's only joke is to punch your shoulder really hard, it gets old fairly quick. So if your going to Thailand, try and go during Songkran, a festival involving thousands of fit, drunk chicks in wet t shirts. And because the Thais look so young and you can't really tell their age, it's ideal for a paedophile who doesn't really want to risk jail at the Big Tiger. Also, even if your not a racist, you can still enjoy a guilty chuckle when the Thais sing 'yerrow remon tlee'.
Got the hang of riding the bike after a few days. I'm probably get a gun next week, to complete the set. Then everyone will know I have a massive cock. Although in truth, the honeymoon with the bike and by proxy the legend of Steve Mc Queen, ended the first time it lashed rain when I was out, getting soaked, barely able to see and eating the crap from a thousand other poor saps trying to get home. And while we're on the subject, I'm not one for broad generalisations, unless it's about hookers...and unnecessarily cruel obviously, but what is the deal with Asian drivers. Holy shit, they are dangerous. Not so much in the cities but out on the motorways. I needed two hand and two feet to count the number of times we we're nearly killed driving to Burma for a look inside a fascist's hutch to watch his soul getting sucked into a gloomy void that followed him around. He is still a massive cunt.
That's all guys, talk to y'all next week.
Monday, April 9, 2007
Happy Happy, Joy Joy
Greetings All,
I hope everything is cool, wherever you are when you read this. A big hello to all my Icelandic readers. It may amuse you to know that the announcer at Thapae Stadium always calls me 'Iceland Champion'.
Anyway, down to business. I was reading my blog there and it occurred to me that I might not be getting across how fucking happy I am doing all this. Not to say I didn't enjoy the first 29 years of my life, but if we were in happiness prison, 2007 would make all the other years his bitch. And he'd be tough on his little prags too.
Got a motor bike today, so getting to grips with that at the moment. Motorbikes are fucking cool. They are big and extremely clever and like smoking, most of the cool older boys are doing it. Just trying to get used to the 'Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law' attitude towards traffic that the Thai have. For example, red lights don't mean stop, they actually mean be careful going through this junction, as there's probably traffic coming at perpendicular angles, it's probably going fast and it's probably not going to stop. Even if he sees you. No left turn signs mean, be very careful turning left here, or not, up to you. And of course no Thai bike experience would be complete without the magic wand. Basically if you beep your horn at any time, for any reason you then have three seconds in which to perform any maneuver, no matter how dangerous or how many laws of physics you break.
Got talking to someone during the week about various cultures and anthropology which is sort of a hobby of mine. Anyway, the subject of the Eskimos came up, and their alleged '11 words for snow'. Now firstly, I'm fairly sure this is a load of bollix but even if it's not, what do you expect, they live in a fucking icy wasteland. There are no current events, other than snowfall. What else are they going to discuss? Spring fashions? The OC series finale?
Have a few mates coming over soon, which I'm looking forward to. It's going to be like living in a frat house. And I've already thought of our motto; Alpha Alpha Alpha- It's only rape if you let her live long enough to talk about it. I'll be accepting applications at the usual address.
Rod Fucking Stewart.
I hope everything is cool, wherever you are when you read this. A big hello to all my Icelandic readers. It may amuse you to know that the announcer at Thapae Stadium always calls me 'Iceland Champion'.
Anyway, down to business. I was reading my blog there and it occurred to me that I might not be getting across how fucking happy I am doing all this. Not to say I didn't enjoy the first 29 years of my life, but if we were in happiness prison, 2007 would make all the other years his bitch. And he'd be tough on his little prags too.
Got a motor bike today, so getting to grips with that at the moment. Motorbikes are fucking cool. They are big and extremely clever and like smoking, most of the cool older boys are doing it. Just trying to get used to the 'Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law' attitude towards traffic that the Thai have. For example, red lights don't mean stop, they actually mean be careful going through this junction, as there's probably traffic coming at perpendicular angles, it's probably going fast and it's probably not going to stop. Even if he sees you. No left turn signs mean, be very careful turning left here, or not, up to you. And of course no Thai bike experience would be complete without the magic wand. Basically if you beep your horn at any time, for any reason you then have three seconds in which to perform any maneuver, no matter how dangerous or how many laws of physics you break.
Got talking to someone during the week about various cultures and anthropology which is sort of a hobby of mine. Anyway, the subject of the Eskimos came up, and their alleged '11 words for snow'. Now firstly, I'm fairly sure this is a load of bollix but even if it's not, what do you expect, they live in a fucking icy wasteland. There are no current events, other than snowfall. What else are they going to discuss? Spring fashions? The OC series finale?
Have a few mates coming over soon, which I'm looking forward to. It's going to be like living in a frat house. And I've already thought of our motto; Alpha Alpha Alpha- It's only rape if you let her live long enough to talk about it. I'll be accepting applications at the usual address.
Rod Fucking Stewart.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Two tickets to Paradise
Wow, has it been two weeks already? I wouldn't know on account of the paradise. :) I haven't looked at a clock in months.
Well I've finally decided to take some action with my injuries. That action is typically Irish, in that I will be doing nothing. Well resting, I guess, but really it's doing nothing. So for my couple of weeks rest I decided to take a Thai massage course which is really interesting, but not as much fun as you'd think because it's pretty much just me and the master, who has to demonstrate on me first, then lets me practise. So first he sends me to sleep with a world class massage, then wakes me up and forces me too work. Needless to say, his card shelf will be pretty bare this Christmas. To be honest I'm dreading the last lesson, which I suspect will be the happy finish that 99% of massage places offer. I've only found one place that wasn't a rub and tug.
Met a nice french girl during the week too, and had a good laugh showing her round Chaing Mai, while impressing her with how much I could drink. That now brings my total of nice french people that I know, to 2. Yes, I am surprised as you are. The other one knows who she is. Solid.
And speaking of countries who were on Hitler's side during the war, I had a good laugh with the only funny German person ever. He was a fighter at the gym and a very nice bloke. Knew a lot about the war too, and was only too happy to talk about it, although I had to explain to him that he would make more friends if, when talking about war criminals and the atrocities committed by the most evil people in history, instead of saying 'we' he used the term 'the Nazi's'.
It's getting hot her now too. Many mornings this week I lay in bed like Martin Sheen in Apocalypse Now... I asked them for a fight, and for my sins, they gave me one... Then I drink heavily and smash my room up, travel up north on a boat, take a load of acid and kill Marlon Brando. It's one of the lesser known tourist treks.
My flat mate has found Mrs. right, or at least Mrs. right now, and has headed off to a chilled out tourist resort with her. Yeah, Mrs. right the lucky git. Though I bet her first name turns out to be always. I haven't been so lucky and to be honest, at his stage I would settle for anything that didn't have a penis or a price list. Falang no want boom-boom. Well actually, Falang would love some boom-boom, but he's not as keen on the aids and you my *ahem* beauty, have more aids than the U.S. president.
So that's all I've been doing for the last two weeks. I'm certain my ribs will be back to normal by the time my massage course is finished and then it's back to a hard training regime, with another fight about a month after I start back. And to be honest I can't wait. I still haven't managed to kill anyone in the ring yet, but I'm holding on to the dream.
Well I've finally decided to take some action with my injuries. That action is typically Irish, in that I will be doing nothing. Well resting, I guess, but really it's doing nothing. So for my couple of weeks rest I decided to take a Thai massage course which is really interesting, but not as much fun as you'd think because it's pretty much just me and the master, who has to demonstrate on me first, then lets me practise. So first he sends me to sleep with a world class massage, then wakes me up and forces me too work. Needless to say, his card shelf will be pretty bare this Christmas. To be honest I'm dreading the last lesson, which I suspect will be the happy finish that 99% of massage places offer. I've only found one place that wasn't a rub and tug.
Met a nice french girl during the week too, and had a good laugh showing her round Chaing Mai, while impressing her with how much I could drink. That now brings my total of nice french people that I know, to 2. Yes, I am surprised as you are. The other one knows who she is. Solid.
And speaking of countries who were on Hitler's side during the war, I had a good laugh with the only funny German person ever. He was a fighter at the gym and a very nice bloke. Knew a lot about the war too, and was only too happy to talk about it, although I had to explain to him that he would make more friends if, when talking about war criminals and the atrocities committed by the most evil people in history, instead of saying 'we' he used the term 'the Nazi's'.
It's getting hot her now too. Many mornings this week I lay in bed like Martin Sheen in Apocalypse Now... I asked them for a fight, and for my sins, they gave me one... Then I drink heavily and smash my room up, travel up north on a boat, take a load of acid and kill Marlon Brando. It's one of the lesser known tourist treks.
My flat mate has found Mrs. right, or at least Mrs. right now, and has headed off to a chilled out tourist resort with her. Yeah, Mrs. right the lucky git. Though I bet her first name turns out to be always. I haven't been so lucky and to be honest, at his stage I would settle for anything that didn't have a penis or a price list. Falang no want boom-boom. Well actually, Falang would love some boom-boom, but he's not as keen on the aids and you my *ahem* beauty, have more aids than the U.S. president.
So that's all I've been doing for the last two weeks. I'm certain my ribs will be back to normal by the time my massage course is finished and then it's back to a hard training regime, with another fight about a month after I start back. And to be honest I can't wait. I still haven't managed to kill anyone in the ring yet, but I'm holding on to the dream.
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