My Purpose: Entertain, Inspire, Be Happy, Free Hugs!
 

Hipsters, Crazies And Coffee.

I'll Miss You, Too, La La Land ...The HipstersWhile "researching" this "article," I sent an email to a gay, as in homo, as in homosexual homo-sapien—who I call J'Mo (his first name starts with J and, well, you get the rest). Anyway, I asked him how to tell the difference between a gay guy and a hipster.He basically tells me, You remember where I live, right? [My adulthood home town] where there is no obvious evidence of either! I have to admit—he's right. Even though I know several gay couples, I know of no one who wears suspenders, bow-ties, or their pants rolled up just so. (Not even in the lady couples.) And the fellows I've seen sporting beards and...

In Kathmandu Playing 'Cat and Mouse' with A Dastardly Old Hound.

Oh, Lolita! I would like to preface this tattletale by admitting that I took my chances choosing such a provocatively controversial novel—Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. It’s the tale (pun) of a thirty-seven-year-old man (pedophile) obsessed with a twelve-year-young nymphette. Let that be a lesson to me. However, mes cheries! I did give "Almost a Grandfather"—married to Almost a Grandmother!—ample opportunity to respect my boundaries. Let this be a lesson to him. So after our Annapurna Circuit trekking group is back at Kathmandu Guest House, I ask to be moved as far away from "Almost's" chamber as is physically possible. Surprised, the manager behind the desk clerk asks, Did he make inappropriate advances toward you? ...

Nepal: Never-Ending Peace and Love. (Maybe Too Much Love.)

Not sure how I’m going to compact a month in Nepal into one blog, but I ams gonna try ...I wasn’t going to blog Nepal. This blog—naughtypotty—is a random collection of dark (shady? sketchy? let’s go with kind of pathetic and too personal) comedy skits in narrative format on a screen, and my time in this weather-beaten, off-the-beaten-path country of kind people has been a bit of a serious journey for me.Rather than relay the daily play by play, I’ll summarize in snippets ...Our Guides and Porters:Ram Hari (pronounced “hurry”) Nepal. Has worked with Intrepid, the company I trekked with, for almost fifteen years. Hmm, how to summarize his presence briefly? He puts nearly every service provider I’ve ever met...

Training for the Annapurna Circuit aka The Build-A-Butt Plan.

Boracay Beach, Philippines Blog Five. As mentioned in a previous Boracay-series blog, I'm here on this relatively flat and tiny isle of paradise as part of my "training for the Himalayas" hike next month.—This just in: Almost Forty Die in Avalanche on the Annapurna Circuit. A moment of sadness and prayers for their loved ones. (I'm not changing my plans.) Okay, carry on.—I could have trained back home in Canada which has real mountains, but those real mountains are filled with mountain lions, cougars (aside from me, no insult intended) and bears. It's always the cougars one needs to worry about. (Double meaning.) But Canada is cold now. Kind of like the Himalayas. Hmm. Well, whatever, I'm here to get fit—or...

Vacation Sex: What Happens In Boracay Stays in Boracay (And in This Blog).

Boracay Beach, Philippines Blog Four. I'm at Nigi Nigi Nu Noos "e" Nu Nu Noos with Blue Eyes. Nigis is one of the popular local hangouts for ex-pats and "white" tourists who have left their homes and native lands to travel to this exotic destination rich in culture—if poor in conditions—only to coagulate with their own flock in a beach bar with hot wings and cheap beer on the menu and Cheap Trick on the radio. I sit at the bar drinking bottled water (as I'm not much of a drinker) and observe the crowd while Blue Eyes chats with the bartender, who plunks down another Blue Eyes "regular" (as he is more of a drinker).It's relatively early. There aren't...

Waning And Waxing aka How Many Aestheticians Does It Take to Wax One Pussy?

Boracay Beach, Philippines Blog Three.Pussy1: Slang for vulva—because technically, anatomically, vagina is only the inside bits.And the next thing I know, there's another Filipino female (I hope) checking out my Sasquatch Snatch. Sasquatch Snatch: AJ slang for hair pie, which be regular redneck slang for hairy va-jay-jay, which is simple slang for uncoiffed-overgrown-I've-been-single-and-celibate-for-over-a-year cookie—which is just sad. Let's backtrack a smidge to September: Back in Canada when the weather turned autumn cool—by my standards, this is any temperature under 25 degrees Celsius—I pulled out the jeans and skipped shaving my legs and nether regions. (There are pluses to celibate singlehood.) My hair grows fast so, by the time I'd arrived in the Philippines, I was wearing a woolly layer under my winter attire. There's...

Headline: Boracay Beach, Philippines—Not (Just) About Dirty Old Men and Young Lady-Boys.

Blog Two In The Boracay Beach, Philippines / Himalayas, Nepal AJ Travels Series.My plan was to come to Boracay to get in shape for my hike in Nepal next month—did I forget to mention that part? Yes? Well, we’ll get to that, just you wait. Where was I? Oh, right—get fit for hike. My buddy—we’ll call him Blue Eyes—who lives here in Boracay, has done a bunch of hikes in Nepal including the Mount Everest Base Camp hike and the Annapurna Circuit. A few weeks ago, I impulsively decide I need to go somewhere “spiritual” for my Canadian snowbird getaway from winter. Bhutan is at the top of my bucket list, but Nepal is at the top of my budget...

CR to Vancouver to Hong Kong to Manila to Caticlan to Jetty ... Arrive Boracay Beach, Philippines!

"Rated One Of The Best Beaches In The World." Did I ever mention I'm not a beach person? Did I ever tell you how I once missed a flight back from Costa Rica by three ... (Cough.) ... days? True story. I usually manage to get lost, lose luggage or miss flights. I’m anally organized (read: OCD) in most areas of my life, but travel ... not so much. For this trip, I’d planned on using my travel points to pay for the flight—key word “planned,” but I messed up. After I spent over 90 minutes on the phone with an Avion Travel Points rep, with Avion’s various fees and taxes, it turned out I would pay almost the same...

Mexico: Weeks 3 & 4—On Mexican Dime

Friday:Go to the market, get weekly groceries, all organic: $45. Check. Go to bakery. (It's a given at this point.) Get a fish taco (finally). Check. Go for a 'Mayan' massage—basically a hippy-dippy-chakra-balancing-my-heart-centre-hurts-and-my-legs-are-unshaven-prickly-incence-burning session. Nonetheless, afterwards, I feel pretty good even if my fourth chakra still sucks.Saturday:Bus to Mega store for organic vino and razor replacement heads. (No replacements in stock, too cheap environmentally-friendly to buy a new razor; instead, decide that I'm saving the earth one leg whisker at a time by staying hippy-dippy natural.)Go to Irish pub in full-length dress. Flee thinks I'm overdressed, but I'm just trying to cover my damn grassy gams! Plus, I am in flip flops and ponytail, which makes anything casual.Buy a hat....

Mexico: Week Two—Dog Shit, Horse Shit, Bullshit

Friday: Go to Spanish class mildly hung over from the shenanigans with Montana Man (see Mexico: Week/Weak One post), which is held at the local gringos elementary school with an earthen-floor playground (as in: compacted dirt; as in: open-air outside). My school room is under a large palapa within the confines of la escuela (the school). Mini Flee (3-years old, remember?) is doing yoga with a group of other hipster kids not far from me. She knows more Spanish than I do, so—yes—the simplistic images of pescado, perro, y gato (fish, dog, cat) are for us adults trying to catch up to these fast Spanish-talking toddlers. My brain is foggy from frolicking in a tequila haze. (I only blacked out...

Mexico: Week One aka Weak One (Me)

Checklist: Make sure airplane leaves L.A. right on time—if right on time means Mexican time, which it does, then depart 45 minutes late for no apparent reason. Check. Arrive in Puerto Vallarta airport to 30 degree temperatures (celcius, that equals 85 ish for you U.S.ers) plus humidity wearing jeans and 14 layers of sweaters because they wouldn't fit in the extra suitcase obtained free from a crack alley in Venice, CA. Check. Wait in an unorganized, wandering Customs & Immigration line-up for an hour while removing layers of clothing and worrying about mangy Mexican narcotics dogs detecting drugs in the lining of my crack-alley suitcase. Check. Develop stinky stress- and sweater-induced BO. Check check. Remind self to inquire...

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