Around here, more is better, and why the hell not?
These two photos are the only two that can be uploaded from this internet cafe and I've been sweltering here for an hour while the windows hourglass taunts me.
I cruised into an outdoor market for more of the same treatment. Hey, come in! You like nail polish? What you like? Mac or Bobbi Brown?
Yeah, I dig nail polish, I use it when I get a run in my stockings.
Sun is particularly hot today. Everytime I park the scooter, like seagulls who smell french fries on the beach, lounging shop keepers stand to, and approach me carefully, offering more bespoke pinstripe pants, plastic garbage, and other wares no human really needs.
We saw this white guy earlier wearing a shirt printed in Thai and in English, proclaiming the following:
NO I DON'T NEED
A SUIT
A TAXI
OR A MASSAGE
THANK YOU VERY MUCH
I think the same thing, but only a true douche bag would wear a plum colored shirt with that printed on the front and back.
You can view some of today's photos here
http://www.flickr.com/photos/21189289@N02/
*****
We did not eat at our alley diner this morning. We had a bit of a pow wow last night about feeling ripped off for only a few Baht by the cook, and we agreed that there were probably better places out there, that would be just as good and cheap, and also less likely to be performing alchemy with the orange juice. Better to stop now before I get garlic powder in my OJ.
We went instead to the Danish bakery for a more traditional western breakfast that included fresh baked bread. We got eggs, bacon, ham, potatoes, a bread basket, tea, and some kind of orange juice that seemed a little whiz banged. It was not deep orange in color, like regular Shogun orange juice, and it tasted a little like Five Alive. It was good, but I couldn't place it.
Our proprietress, Lucky, went on to explain that two days before yesterday, a man she identified as one of three Danish Mafioso, laying low in Phuket, just around the corner, kicked the crap out of a dog that had wandered in to the restaurant. The dog wandered in and the diners seemed to all enjoy its visit, feeding it and petting it, but Den Danske Mafioso did not concur. Lucky said that the guy kicked the dog so hard, it flew into the street. Not cool, and she went onto say that she kicked him out making sure to say "Fuck" a few times for good measure. In her retelling, she giggled each time she repeated the expletive. The dog belonged to someone down the street and has not been seen since.
Dey not come here no more. Ip dey come, I know his face, I say, no more, you turn around, you no allowed come to dis place, fuck, hehehe hehehe no. Dats what I say to heem.
This kind of directness, this is the shit I can go for. You know where you stand with Lucky. If she is smiling, it's because she's down with your jive, and she'll let you know when she's not. Now if they could only stop fucking with the orange juice.
4 comments:
D, do you think it could be Tang? All that shit has to have gone somewhere. We didn't drink it all in the 80's.
I miss you like the wind in my trees.
Tara,
Please don't do me like that. We did get Tang at Kamala Beach Resort, and it took a lot of deep breathing exercises by the Partner on my behalf to keep me from reenacting my Thai Kick Boxing Audition Tape that I sent in to Real Fights. I believe deep in my heart that OJ here is fantastic, but there are several rogue agents who watch too much Emeril on Satellite.
Am I to understand then that your question regarding the orange juice is a genuine curiosity regarding its California Nouvelle Cuisine ingredients???
Listen T, the OJ here is amazing. It's squeezed from these little green oranges and it's sold almost everywhere in Bangkok. It's served at every meal and the fresh shit is goood mofo, and not everyone has it in pure form. Now that we're back in the Kok, I have two bottles of fresh squeezed in my timbuk2 bag right now that we got for 70 cents each. The problem I noticed in Phuket was a startling propensity to adding things to perfectly fine fresh squeezed juice and I wanted so badly to learn how to say, hey home slice,if it ain't broke, don't fix it. I was definitely surprised at how good salted OJ tasted, but ultimately, like any good acid, I like mine pure. Tear it up for my man, Peace out brah.
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