It was a walk around the block.
'Come in, take a look.'
It was a KTV tout.
A group of young drunken female backpackers eyes me up suspiciously.
They are shocked to see me walking alone without a hot long haired local holding my hand.
Yong the Korean was making his way home near the roundabout.
He was commatised.
I'm glad I didn't take up his offer for a drink.
Loud music on another street.
I'm really missing out on a lot of action.
Lilly from the hostess bar that serves food during the day time is looking hot.
And the average looking lady who serves the food is now transformed with makeup and a tight hugging elegant evening dress.
I'm avoiding the Seven Eleven.
Alex must be mad at me.
But I doubt the complaint ever got through to her branch.
The owner has two branches, says Aron the seaman.
I walk past another hostess's bar near my place.
She's smiling at me again.
Does that mean she wants to fuck me?
'You'll never know until you open your wallet Mr. Tight Wad.'
Those pesos in my wallet really need to know the meaning of respect.
I've put most of them and my passport in the security box at the reception desk.
To say I'm overwhelmed by all the beauty on the street that wants to suck my dwindling savings is really an understatement. Been there and done that. I'm not going to give in. San Miguel can fuck off too. One bottle, it will be ten later when I'm hunting for an ATM machine to top up my bacchanalian romp.
I might be stupid, but I'm wising up.
As a wise friend says, a wank in the bank, 'your wallet will thank you for it in the morning.'
I tell my pesos that.
They aren't consoled. They want fun. But not on my shift, I say.
That's final.
I don't want any more cheek from them.
'Come in, take a look.'
It was a KTV tout.
A group of young drunken female backpackers eyes me up suspiciously.
They are shocked to see me walking alone without a hot long haired local holding my hand.
Yong the Korean was making his way home near the roundabout.
He was commatised.
I'm glad I didn't take up his offer for a drink.
Loud music on another street.
I'm really missing out on a lot of action.
Lilly from the hostess bar that serves food during the day time is looking hot.
And the average looking lady who serves the food is now transformed with makeup and a tight hugging elegant evening dress.
I'm avoiding the Seven Eleven.
Alex must be mad at me.
But I doubt the complaint ever got through to her branch.
The owner has two branches, says Aron the seaman.
I walk past another hostess's bar near my place.
She's smiling at me again.
Does that mean she wants to fuck me?
'You'll never know until you open your wallet Mr. Tight Wad.'
Those pesos in my wallet really need to know the meaning of respect.
I've put most of them and my passport in the security box at the reception desk.
To say I'm overwhelmed by all the beauty on the street that wants to suck my dwindling savings is really an understatement. Been there and done that. I'm not going to give in. San Miguel can fuck off too. One bottle, it will be ten later when I'm hunting for an ATM machine to top up my bacchanalian romp.
I might be stupid, but I'm wising up.
As a wise friend says, a wank in the bank, 'your wallet will thank you for it in the morning.'
I tell my pesos that.
They aren't consoled. They want fun. But not on my shift, I say.
That's final.
I don't want any more cheek from them.
