Money Love

Maybe I'm the last person in the social network-o-sphere to see this, but, what the fuck.

So Many Social Sites, So Little Time

What with Twitter and Facebook, I'm running low on facile observations and crude, sexist remarks.

Wife and I are making flight arrangements, confirming guest house reservations and I'm picking out my summer '09 set list for playing at open mike dives in Thailand this year (I seem to be leaning more towards country and folk than last year when I repeated most of my 2007 Brit sixties stuff. So far I've decided on "Deportees", "Mama Tried", "I Know You Rider" and Joe Ely's "Me and Billy the Kid").

We're going to look at property in Hua Hin--a resort town not on the backpackers nightlife circuit, but full of western European and UK retirees, those especially drawn to golf--a sport I've never had any desire to play (though I always enjoyed Putt-Putt as a kid).

There's a supermarket or two in Hua Hin that sells more than deep fried bugs and five-alarm noodles. I'll be thrilled to find wheat bread, peanut butter and jelly, Ragu, salsa and nacho flavored Doritos.

We've started our research first by reading horror stories, and those we've found on the In'ner-net seem to be just a few as the search term "Hua Hin Property Scams" keep turning up the same one or two horror stories going as far as the fifth page in Google.

I told my Siem Reap buddy I was travelling to Thailand with my wife this summer. His reply was, "Ain't that like hauling coal to Newcastle?"

He'll probably motorcycle on down for some biking up the nearby mountains--a lot more fun during moonsoons than the dry season.