I'll just hide in an asteroid till you get hungry and go off to find something for dinner.

EDIT: Jet, The Dan Sai Wife is currently holding me slave for the aforementioned laundry and dish-washing. I would suggest a bitch-fight, but she is 5 months pregnant and not up to a behemoth such as yourself!

Alright, here is the real party bus, room for everybody.

DeathStar2.bmp

If you remember the Millenium Falcon has helped to destroy 2 Death Stars, so if it is Mark I, then I'll destroy the exhaust port and Mark II will get the other treatment.

I want the waterfront property, Bopper. Put it on any of my accounts.

It's an apocalypse, there is no waterfront - only beds of molten lava.

Don't get too close! Or I will push you in!

I get the distinct impression this thread may have deviated slightly from the proposed subject matter?

Jet!

You're s'posed to supply the hampers & wine on my bus! Not go running off with the first "cat" you see with a souped up (or souped down) roadster! Huh!!

BTW, the ego is supposed to be shared between a few of us & the favour is all mine!

So, where we all meeting for the first annual post apocalyptic BBQ? I hope it will have pretty sunsets for Kan Win to photograph? And plenty of beach dogs.

Miss Rain!

I agree,... Miss Gorgon has obviously got some free love on her mind, and has neglected the fact that I left my tenth spot open on my list. Bad behaviour will not go unpunished!!!!

Kan Win will not be on ANYBODY's bus, cos his house will be the final destination... Best BBQ's in LOS, to that I can testify. (just remember to bring 99 baht in small coins that's right isn't it, Win? )

as for Beach dogs, well Miss Rain, I have here somewhere some simple notes I took down once, some five or six years ago, when I lived on Had Tha Naam, on Koh Chang. (They are just notes, not a finalised story by any means Edit: Upon finding my notes, I also found a (true) story I wrote once upon a time) Tel me if you think these beach dogs will do?

Two brothers, Barney & Chet, co-joined by their souls. Essentialy twins. Medium build, one strong, the other with a lisp and a limp.

The third dog, Butch, was probably their dad. The mother we believed to be Saggy Tits – never quite recovered her shape, poor thing. A slightly pregnant bitch, reminiscent of a cross between a real dashcund and Droopy.

Greytits was the fifth of the family and all of this mis-matched family of dogs defended our beach to within an inch of their lives.

Butch possibly several time to within a hairline of his life, judging by all his old scars and battle wounds. The dog was a rock. A beautiful rock of scars and short coarse fur.

I liked to chill in the hammock for a while, to which he readily agreed. He came over and sat on the blanket lined bench set into the porch. I lay back with a fresh one in the waist high hammock and caressed Butch with my left hand, encouraging him to relax and lie down. Once he did, I knew, his twin sons would too.

The dog with the lisp.

The dog with the lisp was staring up at me, discontent with all, with the exception of the prospect of eating his next meal. We had named the hound Barney. I couldn't but help the idea along; This name just floated into every level of my conciousness.

Barney hobbled along on three and a half legs. He did have all of his limbs intact. One of the rear legs, however and for reasons unknown, served him as mightily as taxes served me. Crippling.

He loved hobbling and limping, falling and rolling in the sands of the beach.

His brother, Chet, always stood by him, helped him. They could play for hours with each-other.

Chet was an able-bodied work hound. He would take over as clan chief when the time came in for Butch to step down – as honourably as a Klingon, I’m sure. The same colours as Butch. White patches slightly larger perhaps. He was Al Pacino’s quintessential ‘Michael’, with a touch of John’s ‘Sonny’ edge. Butch was essentialy Rob’s Vito with Luca Brasi’s ball’s.

If there was a mafia on this island, I’m sorry, Sicily, but I’ve just named them.

My days were partially occupied looking out for the buggers, making sure the mutts were happy and remained friendly to our customers there.

There was nothing remotely resembling a concept of veterinary skills anywhere on the island We weren’t even sure if there was a doctor around. My guests and a host of dear friends had sought all over the island. We never much needed either one, problem easily solved.

We only really required the relevant absent skills the one time, that I ever experienced. The closest we had come to finding a vet on that occasion was when we took poor old Barney to a Doctor. A friend of our Mr. Diyut, the owner. The poor doctor nearly had a panic attack upon seeing the state poor Barney was in. Barney was, at a guess, no more than two years old - the same as Chet- born presumably of the same litter within minutes of eachother. One wonders who many there might have been in total and one is relieved to have only the two of them here.

They both came and slept on the two by one meter balcony of the bungalow I belied at night. In the evenings, as I was passing out in the Hammock, Chet and Barney would idle up from the beach, Chet would stay in the grass while Barney found himself a spot, then Chet would come in and make himself comfortable. Most nights Butch would come and lie in the grass just next to the steps leading up here.

They both got up with me in the mornings to go running and sometimes swimming, just after dawnbreak. The pair of them would accompany me everywhere, but only ever treaded the steps of my hut at night. Butch would dissappear on full moons, which inevitably led to some discussion about (Tor’s) habits. Chet would sometimes be missing in the middle of the night, but in the mornings he’d always be fast asleep. Barney had adorned every corner of my heart with his disfigured lip, bruised and battered eyes, lispy bark.There was very little I would not do for him. I grew accustomed to his presence, and perhaps even felt some discomfort in his sporadic absences.

It was shortly after the rainy season ceased, after so many months, that Barney did not come to my balcony. I slept unduly concerned, and awoke feeling a vague unease. There is no doubting it; I was curious. I did not, however, feel that I could concern myself with the state of the moon´s anguish at being called cheese – I did not and could not mind that which was out of my hands.

The sun was high up in the sky when Ellen came running up to me, from across the resort. She seemed somewhat tense, much as I imagine a Lady may do in the moments she realizes that she has been caught with her Lover, the catching being performed by the Husband.

That´s always a rather anguish-filled, uncomfortable moment, I like to imagine.

What with her arriving out of breath and out of voice, I uttered my usual, “What are you drinking?”

She replied with a rather drowsy shake of the head. I alerted myself to the possibility of there perhaps being an issue to trouble our non-problematic existence.

Eventually the breath caught up with her and she told me to come quickly.

I enjoy the belief commonly held that I am a service orientated person, and therefore when in a work situation, well as Lassie might, most often spring, - Nay, Pounce - to duty, as ready to pounce upon any given order as a jumping bean with a mexican education.

“Come! Come quickly! There is a problem with Barney!”

A thousand images flew through my mind. Or my mind just threw a thousand images. Mostly involving blood, in a neat puddle and nasty notes written on walls.

I duly pounced.

The restaurant was on the beachfront and a driveway seperated us from the bungalows.

We hurried along to the bungalow area and Elise led us to the large shared shower block. In the Ladies washroom area lay Barney, on his side. His eyes were somewhat sad, or perhaps anguish filled, but open and blinking. He seemed otherwise fine.

No pool of blood, no nasty notes or –worse yet - pawprints on the walls in blood.

When Ellen lifted his leg, however, the story took a dramatic turn. Being a firm believer in ‘happy endings’ I found this to be one rather spectacularly, poorly navigated turn too, I might add.

Protruding from between his legs, venturing out of it’s nice furry warm natural habitat for the first time in Barney’s History was one large pink round sphere. It looked out of place, bright pink and pure, completely defenceless outside in the cold. It’s little furry pouch had somehow been slashed open, with what looked at a glance to be a razor sharp, straight cut. The other testicle remained firmly tucked in where it belonged. His sac had been slashed somehow and swollen and large there the testicle hung,.

The dog with the lisp sneezed and presently resumed it´s longful gaze into the empty skies of my eyes.

I guess I never ended that story, but it continued with most guests and staff crowding round, one staff member grabbing a shotgun, me and several guests Yelling at him to bugger off with his stupid gun, and eventually we got a pick up and took Barney to the mainland, where we found our owners doctor friend who managed to fix Barney up. Barney had to spend several weeks in my hut - recovery - but he lived to see the future, albeit with only one testicle.

If you remember the Millenium Falcon has helped to destroy 2 Death Stars, so if it is Mark I, then I'll destroy the exhaust port and Mark II will get the other treatment.

Why do you want to blow up the party bus?!!

I get the distinct impression this thread may have deviated slightly from the proposed subject matter?

Jet!

You're s'posed to supply the hampers & wine on my bus! Not go running off with the first "cat" you see with a souped up (or souped down) roadster! Huh!!

BTW, the ego is supposed to be shared between a few of us & the favour is all mine!

So, where we all meeting for the first annual post apocalyptic BBQ? I hope it will have pretty sunsets for Kan Win to photograph? And plenty of beach dogs.

Miss Rain!

I agree,... Miss Gorgon has obviously got some free love on her mind, and has neglected the fact that I left my tenth spot open on my list. Bad behaviour will not go unpunished!!!!

Kan Win will not be on ANYBODY's bus, cos his house will be the final destination... Best BBQ's in LOS, to that I can testify. (just remember to bring 99 baht in small coins that's right isn't it, Win? )

as for Beach dogs, well Miss Rain, I have here somewhere some simple notes I took down once, some five or six years ago, when I lived on Had Tha Naam, on Koh Chang. (They are just notes, not a finalised story by any means Edit: Upon finding my notes, I also found a (true) story I wrote once upon a time) Tel me if you think these beach dogs will do?

Two brothers, Barney & Chet, co-joined by their souls. Essentialy twins. Medium build, one strong, the other with a lisp and a limp.

The third dog, Butch, was probably their dad. The mother we believed to be Saggy Tits – never quite recovered her shape, poor thing. A slightly pregnant bitch, reminiscent of a cross between a real dashcund and Droopy.

Greytits was the fifth of the family and all of this mis-matched family of dogs defended our beach to within an inch of their lives.

Butch possibly several time to within a hairline of his life, judging by all his old scars and battle wounds. The dog was a rock. A beautiful rock of scars and short coarse fur.

I liked to chill in the hammock for a while, to which he readily agreed. He came over and sat on the blanket lined bench set into the porch. I lay back with a fresh one in the waist high hammock and caressed Butch with my left hand, encouraging him to relax and lie down. Once he did, I knew, his twin sons would too.

The dog with the lisp.

The dog with the lisp was staring up at me, discontent with all, with the exception of the prospect of eating his next meal. We had named the hound Barney. I couldn't but help the idea along; This name just floated into every level of my conciousness.

Barney hobbled along on three and a half legs. He did have all of his limbs intact. One of the rear legs, however and for reasons unknown, served him as mightily as taxes served me. Crippling.

He loved hobbling and limping, falling and rolling in the sands of the beach.

His brother, Chet, always stood by him, helped him. They could play for hours with each-other.

Chet was an able-bodied work hound. He would take over as clan chief when the time came in for Butch to step down – as honourably as a Klingon, I’m sure. The same colours as Butch. White patches slightly larger perhaps. He was Al Pacino’s quintessential ‘Michael’, with a touch of John’s ‘Sonny’ edge. Butch was essentialy Rob’s Vito with Luca Brasi’s ball’s.

If there was a mafia on this island, I’m sorry, Sicily, but I’ve just named them.

My days were partially occupied looking out for the buggers, making sure the mutts were happy and remained friendly to our customers there.

There was nothing remotely resembling a concept of veterinary skills anywhere on the island We weren’t even sure if there was a doctor around. My guests and a host of dear friends had sought all over the island. We never much needed either one, problem easily solved.

We only really required the relevant absent skills the one time, that I ever experienced. The closest we had come to finding a vet on that occasion was when we took poor old Barney to a Doctor. A friend of our Mr. Diyut, the owner. The poor doctor nearly had a panic attack upon seeing the state poor Barney was in. Barney was, at a guess, no more than two years old - the same as Chet- born presumably of the same litter within minutes of eachother. One wonders who many there might have been in total and one is relieved to have only the two of them here.

They both came and slept on the two by one meter balcony of the bungalow I belied at night. In the evenings, as I was passing out in the Hammock, Chet and Barney would idle up from the beach, Chet would stay in the grass while Barney found himself a spot, then Chet would come in and make himself comfortable. Most nights Butch would come and lie in the grass just next to the steps leading up here.

They both got up with me in the mornings to go running and sometimes swimming, just after dawnbreak. The pair of them would accompany me everywhere, but only ever treaded the steps of my hut at night. Butch would dissappear on full moons, which inevitably led to some discussion about (Tor’s) habits. Chet would sometimes be missing in the middle of the night, but in the mornings he’d always be fast asleep. Barney had adorned every corner of my heart with his disfigured lip, bruised and battered eyes, lispy bark.There was very little I would not do for him. I grew accustomed to his presence, and perhaps even felt some discomfort in his sporadic absences.

It was shortly after the rainy season ceased, after so many months, that Barney did not come to my balcony. I slept unduly concerned, and awoke feeling a vague unease. There is no doubting it; I was curious. I did not, however, feel that I could concern myself with the state of the moon´s anguish at being called cheese – I did not and could not mind that which was out of my hands.

The sun was high up in the sky when Ellen came running up to me, from across the resort. She seemed somewhat tense, much as I imagine a Lady may do in the moments she realizes that she has been caught with her Lover, the catching being performed by the Husband.

That´s always a rather anguish-filled, uncomfortable moment, I like to imagine.

What with her arriving out of breath and out of voice, I uttered my usual, “What are you drinking?”

She replied with a rather drowsy shake of the head. I alerted myself to the possibility of there perhaps being an issue to trouble our non-problematic existence.

Eventually the breath caught up with her and she told me to come quickly.

I enjoy the belief commonly held that I am a service orientated person, and therefore when in a work situation, well as Lassie might, most often spring, - Nay, Pounce - to duty, as ready to pounce upon any given order as a jumping bean with a mexican education.

“Come! Come quickly! There is a problem with Barney!”

A thousand images flew through my mind. Or my mind just threw a thousand images. Mostly involving blood, in a neat puddle and nasty notes written on walls.

I duly pounced.

The restaurant was on the beachfront and a driveway seperated us from the bungalows.

We hurried along to the bungalow area and Elise led us to the large shared shower block. In the Ladies washroom area lay Barney, on his side. His eyes were somewhat sad, or perhaps anguish filled, but open and blinking. He seemed otherwise fine.

No pool of blood, no nasty notes or –worse yet - pawprints on the walls in blood.

When Ellen lifted his leg, however, the story took a dramatic turn. Being a firm believer in ‘happy endings’ I found this to be one rather spectacularly, poorly navigated turn too, I might add.

Protruding from between his legs, venturing out of it’s nice furry warm natural habitat for the first time in Barney’s History was one large pink round sphere. It looked out of place, bright pink and pure, completely defenceless outside in the cold. It’s little furry pouch had somehow been slashed open, with what looked at a glance to be a razor sharp, straight cut. The other testicle remained firmly tucked in where it belonged. His sac had been slashed somehow and swollen and large there the testicle hung,.

The dog with the lisp sneezed and presently resumed it´s longful gaze into the empty skies of my eyes.

I guess I never ended that story, but it continued with most guests and staff crowding round, one staff member grabbing a shotgun, me and several guests Yelling at him to bugger off with his stupid gun, and eventually we got a pick up and took Barney to the mainland, where we found our owners doctor friend who managed to fix Barney up. Barney had to spend several weeks in my hut - recovery - but he lived to see the future, albeit with only one testicle.

As long as the fun stick still works a nut is a little thing.

It's an apocalypse, there is no waterfront - only beds of molten lava.

Don't get too close! Or I will push you in!

Molten lave works great at BBQs.

If you remember the Millenium Falcon has helped to destroy 2 Death Stars, so if it is Mark I, then I'll destroy the exhaust port and Mark II will get the other treatment.

Why do you want to blow up the party bus?!!

I don't want to party withImperial Stormtroopers - never been keen on South Africans!

Holy apocolypse party! We got Barney dog stories, Milli, Death, Mark...<deleted>? Where's Thaddy? He's got a f** bus.

It's an apocalypse, there is no waterfront - only beds of molten lava.

Don't get too close! Or I will push you in!

Molten lava works great at BBQs.

Yip.... far better at getting the fire going than a slice of discarded flip-flop.

Great for getting rid of Jet a la Anakin Skywalker, hoping that she doesn't get reincarnated as Darth Gorgon...

there's a scary thought!!!

Holy apocolypse party! We got Barney dog stories, Milli, Death, Mark...<deleted>? Where's Thaddy? He's got a f** bus.

Arai na ...... oh yes, just checked my back pocket, I wondered what the bulge was.

Can I continue my journey towards the watery sitting area now?

(P.S. isn't bulge just a great word)

most of us blokes have a bulge round the front, but each to his own.

Have you done the "how gay are you" test in the Pub, yet?

Great for getting rid of Jet a la Anakin Skywalker, hoping that she doesn't get reincarnated as Darth Gorgon...

She cometh.

Darth Gorgon does sound like a legitimate name for a Sith Lord.

Lord Gorgon. Rise!

enhanced for jettie to use as her new avatar

I'm scared...

Great for getting rid of Jet a la Anakin Skywalker, hoping that she doesn't get reincarnated as Darth Gorgon...

She cometh.

There is a pimple on my face in that photo; it wasn't there this morning. I can't have that if I'm doing a Lavalife meeting; the guy might have a better bus package.

Darth Gorgon in action!

enhanced for jettie to use as her new avatar

While looking up bebops most excellent pics of SW characters, which I failed to locate, I did manage to come across this gem of a JEDI Knight - I kid you not! From Star Wars Expanded Universe:

I Have a JEDI relative... Yay!!!!

enhanced for jettie to use as her new avatar

While looking up bebops most excellent pics of SW characters, which I failed to locate, I did manage to come across this gem of a JEDI Knight - I kid you not! From Star Wars Expanded Universe:

I Have a JEDI relative... Yay!!!!

It didn't come out right, what's it say, Kayo?

Loved the doggy tales, Kayo. Yes, I know it was a while back, but those of us in Thailand have been sleeping Poor Barney - glad he managed to make it through his ordeal. The writing just goes to prove my theory we need you to record post-apocalyptic events for posterity.

Well I took the motor on a test run last night and it sounded a bit rough. I had my doubts about that used car salesman, he said his previous job was with wikipedia. Anyway we part exchanged the other one for this newer model, previous owner one carefull lady driver by the name of Boadicca Too - sounds Chinese to me. So we are fuelled and beered up and raring to get to the Apocalpso party. Oh, I aint gonna freeze Tiggy, we felines gotta stick together.

Look at THAT car! Hey, Phil, nobody wants me either and my bus driver is on yabaa and he plays mooban pop at full throttle. Anyway, that looks like my old car and I'm a really good driver, as you can see. (ego? me?) I strip clutches real good, too. And can we take 86 with us? I think he knows how to get things. (Oh, that was the guy in the other movie.) And Mr BJ? He does have a sax. And Thaddy is a good little imp, with lots of laughs.

86: I like the exorcist way better; can we assign a code number to PH? What's a good PH level? And what's a good note for MrBJ? I guess Thaddy could be a negative number as he's from down under...

Sorry I've been asleep.

ph 7 is neutral, higher is going towards caustic, lower is acidic. So if 1 is the most acidic we can assume 14 is the most caustic but I've not heard of anything over 12. Am I caustic or acidic, that is the question?

Thaddy, coming from the dark side, could be minus 273 which is absolute zero (or minus 459 if you want to talk good old Fahrenheit). However at that temperature hel_l would freeze over but at least the Aussies wouldn't complain about the warm beer. How hot is hel_l?

Thaddy, coming from the dark side, could be minus 273 which is absolute zero (or minus 459 if you want to talk good old Fahrenheit).

Or zero degrees Kelvin....... He came out with some great quotes.

"Vortices of pure energy can exist and, if my theories are right, can compose the bodily form of an intelligent species."

He did some dumb ones too.

"I can state flatly that heavier than air flying machines are impossible."

Re the temp in the underworld at the moment, I have the dial set between toasty and ouch

Ten Thaivisa members. Who do you take and why?

Ready?

GO!

This is not easy and practicalities need to be taken into consideration

1) AussieThaid: He's a practical and dependable guy. Plus we can discuss the AFL football instead of those nancy boy codes without tackling or that require helmets and pads and 52 players to have a ######s version of rugby

2) Suegha: If I am going to be on a minibus with the rest of these people I will need someone who is level headed and fair. Plus I enjoy his phylosophical insights

3) November Rain: She's like a different version of Suegha. Practical and caring about others.

4) Bambi: I hate doctors and have always had a high regard for vets who have to do everything for their animal patients. I think in a post apocalyptic environment a vet can do a lot more with a lot less than a doctor.

5) p1p: Most of you probably don't know him because he stays out of Bedlam. He's a big guy and a great cook. Handy attributes to have around.

6) Kayo: He's a nut but I really like him and we will need some humour as we battle our way back to the LOS

7) Jet Gordon: Jet makes out she is the bitch queen form hel_l but I think that under that screen personna she is actually a really nice person. That and we will need someone to keep that manic Kayo undercontrol and to hold me back when I want to strap him to the front bumber bar for driving me nuts

8) Khalli: She's from Oz 'nuff said.

9) MiG16: she and AussiThai can fantacise about chocolates and keep eachother amused

10) Rayo: from the avatar he plays what looks like an old Telecaster so I will have another drinking buddy and someone you likes real music.

CB

thanks, but you spelled my name wrong, cawboy.

thanks, but you spelled my name wrong, cawboy.

et tu

and you are most welcome - noticed you didn't argue against being a nice person behind all that scaly exterior. You remind me of a lady I knew on a different forum. She had the same moniker as November Rain - I renamed her Acid Rain and she adopted the whole persona. It became a joke between us because I knew her in real life where she was really sweet and would NEVER say things in real life like she could on line.

Umm actually out of curiosity, your name isn't Debbie is it?

CB