Prubangboy

I compared my divorce to someone (her) kicking a broken Coke machine (me) because -"where's my Cooooke?". At a certain point, that Coke machine is out of service for good. No more Coke for my ex. No more Coke for the former Ms. BritManToo. No more Coke for this sad lady. But they should all feel free to keep on kicking. Like Elvis, Coke has left the building.

It's terrible that some zillionaire is taking so much off the top of a cab driver's fare. I always tip 20% on top. I'm not a victim, I'm a person who's very grateful to be in a cheap place full of poor and unusually kind people. Nor am I a floor mopper getting double the floor mopper rate if I did it in a store instead of a hospital. You're basically, "I've got mine, Jack" and comically dressing it up as some kind of principled stand. I'm on vacation in Bangkok. It seems like no cab is ever going to turn on the meter again. I bargain it down a bit to pay 150 for the 80 baht ride. $2.10 is nothing to me. I hardly need to invoke snore-arama Wayne Dyer to justify my banal daily interactions.

True enough. Last June, I went looking for Lao coffee in Vientiane and found none.

"Dave, remember the code. Blink twice if this a hostage situation and you are being forced to listen to psychometrics blather against your will".

Assuming this story isn't made up, like most of them: Why not use the basic brains that god gave you and toss out something like, "Sorry to hear that, talcum powder is your friend, feel better"? And yet, in the face of this most elemental of social encounters, you say you were completely stumped and slack-jawed agog. You say you need "a warning" to discuss chaffing. How does that even work?

Uh-uh. Since I moved next door to my wife -to a veritable shoe box- my happiness has amped up a whole letter grade. I feel like I have been moving towards a mini-fridge lifestyle my whole life. I don't think I can ever go back to having separate fridge door for a freezer compartment.

True. His career now reminds me of Bob Hope's at the end of his. His recent Scorcese film about Indian Tribes (to dull to recall the Moon-based title) had him doing the exact same performance as the last dozen films.

And then there is the relentless changeover towards EDM and soft hip hop in public spaces. Fair play, The Eagles day has come and gone.

Just had a good 'un at The Robin Hood, along with an exemplary burger with onion rings done right in fish and chips batter. 600 baht all in. The pint was 300 baht. They have a lower cost stout option too, but I drink so seldom, so I treated myself.

-Has this ever worked out even a single time in the history of the universe?

Said the blind man: "But...but they told me at the school it was a German Shepard".

Vaguely lonely guys (possibly) spotted in a world-renowned epicenter of lonely guys looking to (possibly) be less lonely. If only briefly. Later that evening, the OP brilliantly pronounced: "Water is wet".

De Niro got some grief in New York Magazine for having his personal assistant drop what she was doing to deliver a martini from Nobu (he's a part-owner). What person on earth can't make their own martini? It took longer to make the call. Being rich drives you mad. Rich and mega-famous? I'd go off the deep end too. NY Mag is a good one to add to your daily news trawl -I'd call the politics old-lefty, which is now sort of the middle of the road. Also great only-in-New-York issues like a long read on why 3 bedroom apartments have vanished.

A cheap massage means a very variable experience. If I pay 2,000 baht at a spa, it's always good. There are massage parlor chains in malls for a good middle option.

I voted happy to pay my fair share. I use the roads and (so-so) water system, I should contribute something. In the meantime, I assist Myanmar refugees and tip well. But with what I pay in the US and what I remit, I'm unlikely to pay a dime, so Khao Soi Noodles all around for the Myanmar Refugees via The Free Bird Cafe in Chiang Mai. My landlord is a fellow New Yorker, so I'll be paying my rent to him in the states.

First off, TheBlether is one of the greatest internet names in history. -But why not just re-home the dog? It's astonishing to me, but the number of people (many of whom are non-lesbian) who want to "rescue" dogs is limitless. And finally, here's a deeply sad song about a dog taking a bullet that was among Elvis's first recordings -def a weeper.

What was the problem? How did it all work itself out in the end? Me: Had a very untrained pitbull dumped on me by a relative (pitbull debate? Start your own thread). Dumb as a rock, very sweet, 'had a bad habit of forcefully licking visitor's crotches -which is literally a buzz kill from a dog known for dismemberment. Googled. Found a pitbull rescue organization. Actually found 2, a pitbull bidding war almost ensued. 'Went with The Lesbians -woke or what? 'Gone the next day. You? Additional thought: I lived for a long time in England. England is about a 1,000% more humane and evolved in terms of breed dogs than the USA. Prob the rest of Europe too.

Future Trump Campaign Poster: https://theposterdepot.com/products/zsgnnationlampooncovermn7051101

.....And then she went on a mafia vendetta killing rampage and also offed her goat, likewise execution-style. BUT: does her demented ruthlessness actually endear her to MAGA-land? Very poss. It plays to the myth that lib-ruls are outa touch and "don't understand the hard choices of life on the farm" -actual, unironic quote. She had an editor, she has political advisors. This was an audition tape for you-know-who.

Man, this prediction has aged badly, huh?

Rightly or wrongly, that really only happens within the confines of your fevered brow (wrongly). Back in the Trump-dump I fled to move to Thailand, I recall a plan to have vigilantes stationed outside of Walmart Ladies rooms. I was like, wow, and I thought Jury duty was boring.

My wife made me take her to a LeatherMan bar on Fire Island. I was like, "leave those LeatherMen alone, you're def killing their vibe. It's not a LeatherMan zoo"

Maybe once a month -after 3 glasses of Chardonnay. I took her to a BJ bar near Patpong. A sex worker came up to her and licked the palm of her own hand, I advised: "Just say no thank you".

My wife is from the baptized in the river part of the American South. So she loves prostitution places to the point where I refused to go to Hooters near Nana Plaza a third time to, as she puts it, "people-watch". I'm like, can't we people-watch at Tsu 5* sushi around the corner? One time, we were eating at an Indian place across from Beach Road. A guy kept squeezing the forearms of streetwalkers. She wondered why. I theorized that he was just taking advantage of a free-squeeze opportunity. She eventually yelled out "stop bruising the fruit". I def have a free pass with hookers if: 1) I wear a condom 2) I tell her about it in gory detail. 'Tossed the OP a red heart. On her behalf.

Sometimes he's white, sometimes he's not. But what he always is, is a great goofball figure of fun here. A welcome palate cleanser when BigNok is on break, no doubt adding to his implausible count of more than 500 women shagged. May he (eventually) find the electric fan of his dreams, something that people living in grass huts in Africa manage. May his every sex worker fake it semi-convincingly -during his very infrequent shots at female physical contact.