My Facebook One-Liners and B.S. Part One: May - September

I'm editing posts and looking for as many sentences that have the breath of some life in them, always with an eye on drafting a paper-based thing.

This blood sucking spare time sapping Facebook has left my blog hanging out to wither and dry in the digital world's merciless desert sun .

So, in the meantime, while my blog is on life support, before I consult a blog death panel to see if I should pull the plug, I'm going to assemble what I feel are some of my favorite, original profile status and other comment one liners. Perhaps one day, I'll extend, and expand on themes.

If Ramadan is a time for reflection, then why don't more drivers use their rear view mirrors when changing lanes while speeding maniacally home from work? (badda bing)

I'm told I look younger than my age. Here's my the secret. Settle for complacency. If it gets the job done and the results are anywhere between mediocre and par for the course, then you've won the day. Go through the motions at work, ...take nothing home; hope to score a Seinfeld you've never seen. I guarantee you'll find a very brief interlude called happiness somewhere between drinks one and two.

"Would you vote for an openly gay candidate for president if you agreed with his or her other positions?" wouldn't cast a vote based on how someone gets it off. T'aint none a my biness. I wish there was an "I don't give a flick " icon. Power to the peeps all I'm sayin'. I did however vote twice for an Ivy school educated Rhodes scholar cum lecherous hillbilly. But he tried to keep his licentiousness closeted.

Here's how one fasts during Ramadan--eat breakfast in the dark, stay busy at work then come home, sprawl on the sofa and watch Aminal (sic) Planet till you hear the cannon blast singaling Ifthar. Works for me. Break fast on health club days.

Fifity is not the new thirty. Do the math. Look in the mirror. Try to remember the names of everyone you've slept with. Fifty is pre-sixty. From where I'm perched, women in their forties are jail bait. Whenever I'm in my tweens, (between marriages) when I ring up for rent-a-friend, I request mid-thirties.

Gimme a semi-tropical setting a lax controlled substances laws, a couple of guitars and a dive to sing in--I would retire there most contently.


My wife has a high tolerance for my bullshit. If single status ever comes round again, I ain't buyin-I'm just goin stick to hourly rentals.

Weekend gone. Morning. Day one. Bitter coffee. No toast. Why am I not living on a barge in Amsterdam?

5 Things That I Have Been For Halloween: 1. Preggers Nun 2. Ghost Custer 3. Al "Arence (Lawrence of Arabia--must have been a portent 4. cigar smoking ballerina 5. Castro

For better for worse I can get my head around, but nothing in there about "eh, could be better" or "eh, could be worse" Howz'bout for better or worse and all that in between stuff plus times of manic exhilaration and general malaise?

Help me out--there was Larry Moe and Curly, but who was Curly Joe? At the same time, let me get something else straight: what's up with the Father, the son and the curly ghost--er, holy ghost?

Never mind. According to Thomas Aquinas, Shemp is the Holy Ghost.

Childhood Olfactory Paradise: The smell of a baseball glove and chewing gum, chlorine at the public pool, my grandmother's window unit a/c--big as a Sherman tank and just as noisy, Dad's 'sketti sauce, playdough, Barq's root beer,... my parents L and M second hand smoke, candy corn in October, school cafeteria fish sticks, Mom's perfume on her way to a supper club with Dad.

Whoever said "Marriage is our last, best chance to grow up" would have to amend this belief if he'd ever been a fly on the wall in our home when a debate rages over watching "Oprah" or "My Name Is Earl", which both come on at 9.

Sex and death--it's not that the former's drive has taken a dip. I used to think about it 24/7. But the latter has hijacked my daydreams thus crowding out thoughts of the former. Hence, the randier thoughts have competition. "Vitanda est improba siren Levitra"

Been back at work a couple of weeks and I am already thinking about a change of scenery and other alterations.

"And in the end, the love you take. . ." is proportionally tied to the amount of life insurance you have. Nothin' personal. J'est biness.

Re: A Tom Waits song--Round heah, getting behind the mule is a bedouin past time. Camel in a pinch.

Whats your hidden talent? Answer: artist. I always figgered "pimp". Unfair test. Didn't ask about crushed velvet suits or platform shoes.

As a decide-a-phobe, what I know instinctively but fail to remember is the imperative that decisions must not made before identifying the difference between impulse and careful calculation. I need to find a home. Thailand? Yes? No? Cambodia? Uh huh. ...Un uh. Texas hill country? But of course. No wait. Kathmandu? The one. Except for. Sacramento county? That's it, not. Maybe. New Orleans? Obviously. Lemme think.

Hard to believe Laura Nyro and Britney Spears are both XX chromosomes or that they would have anything in common. A forgotten masterful singer/songwriter.

Happy birthday to thesbian Steve Guttenberg . The world would have continued to turn without him.


There comes a time when we must put an end to investigation and indecision then go with our gut and react accordingly. Unless you own a gun. Then please, by all means, take your time, a whole lotta time and continue to investigate before making a decision.

"I do not avoid women. . . but I do deny them my essence" General Jack D. Ripper (Dr. Strangelove)

I don't mind the eye bags and waning taste buds as much as I worry that I seem to have more answers than questions.

arse gratia ars

Another feline has adopted us. That's 8. What have I done to deserve all these one-sided, unwilling-to-make-a-commitment relationships?

It's freedom of speech, not freedom of listen" Steve Colbert

Please close your office door if you are eating any eggy sammich.

We want to see the twins because yours are all different--like meatloaf recipes or snow flakes. As for what we have, well, give or take a few centimeters, they all pretty much look the same.

This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this rent free three bedroom villa!.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more. . .don't worry, I'm right behind you.

Waking up in your own bed is over rated.

I s'ppose it's been a fruitful holiday because I'm just about ready for work to start. Two weeks into the work year, I'll have a side order of mashed potatoes with those words.

I don't ♥ NY. I can take it or leave it, like a vestigial part of body. So, I "\," NY. "\," kinda looks like an appedix.

Nothing--jet lagged. Need sleep. Bring me a cat.

Seen the Taj and Mt Everest, may as well get around to the Statue of Liberty--um, because it's there?

Went to BB Kang's Lucille's. Wasn't as "down home" as it should have been. The headliner that night was the guitarist from poison. We ate on the free music side. Security at the Statue of Liberty was twice that at JFK. They make you stand in a booth that blow dries your hair looking for explosive residue. Went into the statue base. Saw up her skirt. It was "riveting".

I think I got the pig/bird/gecko flu--a new strain.

This Master Cleanse, well, it does that and more. I've gotta 700 page bio of Lennon to keep me company.

Christmas in July. Found a July American Esquire for the plane ride back to Dubai. British Esquires are OK--Tilda Swinton exposes are always fun, but frankly, I could care less about what Sir Alex Ferguson has or hasn't learned.

Off to BKK airport tomorrow then home to Dubai, praying tonight for a yellow shirt/red shirt skirmish that will shut down the airport allowing only women and children to leave. It could happen.

Voted 'no' in the outlawing handguns poll! But I would support a nationwide ban on idgits owning handguns which means background checks, written tests, range qualification tests; at least make it harder than, oh, scuba diving license.

On our way to see the other traditional Thai dances tonight. None will involve ping pong balls or alternative methods of smoking a cigarette.

The Guest House is overrun with Bible thumping NGOs today. The mo'fo's woke me up at 7 this morning singing hymns in the garden breakfast courtyard. Where's a den of lions when you need one? Yo', water walkers, maybe you haven't noticed but Thais are already devoted to a religion, and a pretty darn good one at that (all people, even cats and dogs eventually go to their heaven)

What in the hell does "No woman, no cry" mean anyway and why does every Asian lounge act play this damn song?

Me: According to receipts, I've been to Phnom Penh in recent weeks.
K: uh, yeah, that's where u get the bus to Thailand, right?
Me: I remember a bus that drove nearly back to Siem Reap before dumping my human remains in Poi Pet. Oh, and you picked up a jeep of some sort. How long was I in Phnom Penh?

Tours are for chumps. Yesterday, I was at my chumpiest.

Attended the Asalha Puja; candles, chanting and wat procession. We stayed dry. Just afterwards, the sun set and the rain came down; soaking all the fried bug fast food sidewalk cafes. I lit candles for health, prosperity, love and a higher metabolic rate.

Ya got your good NGOs and you got your dumb as a bag o hammers NGOs. The d.a.a.b.o h. NGOs have come to teach young ladies how to sew in a sweat shop for a dollar a day. The good NGOs are realistic and teach the young ladies that if they're gonn...a do it for 20 dollars an hour--which will more realistically support an extended family, then be clean, carry condoms. Hope the The d.a.a.b.o h NGOs hold condom workshops.

New Afghanistan Strategy: So, this is the plan? We're gonna pay the Taliban to not grow poppies, give em AK 47s to join tribal militias. What? Rahm Emanuel must have found the plan on Cheney's hard drive. One: They aint gonna stop growin poppies an' two, they'll use the Ak 47s to bus' caps on any do-good-nick NGOs who try to teach their daughters how to add and subtract, which only makes 'em all uppity and worthless as child brides.

In less than a week, we went from looking for a property investment to rethinking property investments to deciding that stuffing a mattress is maybe the '09 thing to do.

Is there a law in the UK after 60 that you have to leave your wife, marry a 25 year Thai dolly and shave your head?

BKK tonight after an 18 hour bus ride today, airport in the morning to meet my Mina, hop a car to the coast (Hua Hin) to look around for a hat hanging place There must come a time in a man's life when sprawled on the sofa in front of the Travel Channel is a big night in. Hope to see oceanchild, seashell eyes, windy smile rock around in around in NYC in July.


In the dark, took me peels and had a shot of Purple Drank, was half asleep, worrying about the competency of the Khmer staff at a Phom Penh hotel to give a proper wake up call, woke up, checked the time; 11:00 PM on my watch, from a certain stupified angle looked like 5:30 AM, which would have been thirty minutes past my wake-up call. Grabbed my backpack and dashed downstairs to break the desk clerk's balls for not waking me up-- I'm gonna miss my 6 AM bus!--then he said me, sir, it is only 11 PM. Well, Time magazine did say the Killing Fields had lowered the national IQ. Apparently so did the shit Exxon put in the the Mississippi river water I drank for many years. Went back upstairs, swallered some more peels, washed down with Purple Drank, searched the TV for a rerun of Generation Kill, konked.

Travel day. Hope I can get a pedicure (no happy ending required).

Phnom Phen tomorrow. E-Coli today.

Nana Plaza on a balmy Thursday night. Trying to find balance mixing Red Bull with mah yawny Purple Drank medzin.

BKK to Poi Pet (aka Toi Let) in the morning where I'll death hagggle over a car to Siem Reap. I'm expecting my annual shouting match 15 km from the border where the van stops at restaurant whose owner runs a visa scam, sells 'em for 10$ more than one pays over the innernet. (Last year he saw me coming and told the driver to just take that asshole on to the border; hope he still remembers the asshole).

Will be in BKK in the morning only to try to get the hell out of BKK as soon as humanly possible.

Don't think Shirin Ebadi will have time to go skinny dipping this summer--revolution comes first. I wonder if Jody Williams will be traipsing through Khmer minefields this in July?

Time to unleash Iranian women on the Revolutionary Guard--Iran's deadliest secret weapon.

One more day till I begin my semi-annual toxification and mote'a' scooter maintenance program.

The Cat Shelter is open. We have already have enough orphaned kitties to open a Chinese restaurant.

Cambodian Tourism Idea: "For twenty bucks the Phnom Penh mayor will cut you and your dick loose for an afternoon in the Phnom Penh morgue".

Laotian Tourism Ad Idea: "We're successful, civilized commies. It'll cost you a lot more than twenty bucks to have fuck with our children".

More time. Less space.

"Never wear anything that panics the cat." P. J. O'Rourke.

"A happy childhood is the worst possible preparation for life." Kinky Friedman.

It is not fair that only straights have to endure a legally binding, state sanctioned relationship contract.

Every country needs its own Mexico--an unkempt, lawless border country. The US has Mexico of course. Thailand has Cambodia. Iran has Afghanistan. Canada has the US.

Looks like I'll have to cross "skinny dipping in a lake with Aung San Suu Kyi" off my summer to-do list, guess I'll see what Shirin Ebadi has goin' on. It is comforting knowing there are others out there who stalk Nobel Laureates. Bet you fi' dollar the guy who swam the lake was carrying a copy of Catcher in the Rye.

Come home, come home. Ye who (walk on all fours, spit hair balls, claw my furniture, bite, scratch and draw blood) are weary, come home, softly and tenderly calling. . .

Acid peels and Botox if you can afford them, but the best way to stay young is to have more questions than answers.

If it's water, the glass is half full. If it's a scotch, the glass is half empty.

Body aching. . .can't wiggle toes. . .must. . .have. . .cheese burger.

You don't wanna piss off a mountain. That's what my sherpa guide tol' me.

I've done the math and it's quite possible I will be outlived by some of my pets. If I go first, I hope they put my remains in a very nice cigar box.

If heaven exists, what would I like to hear God say when I arrive at the pearly gates? "Sometimes I make mistakes. James Lipton for example."

Wish someone would invent a pill that makes you feel as good as you do after a 10 k run and a shower. I'd buy one.

"(Fill in the blank)" is easier than finding a decent Mexican restaurant in the UAE.

I have a scar on my left hand. It's been there since I was six months old. I still need to glance at it to tell left from right. That's only the tip of the iceberg of what I haven't learned.
I'm gonna temporarily unblock the next pop-up ad just to see where it's going.

My bench mark for a civilized society is the one whose language has no irregular verbs.

Cats are morally ambiguous and make no apologies for it. I can appreciate that.

Advice to travel journalists on the Travel Channel and Nation Geo Adventure--if you are concerned about tourism invading some off-the-beaten-path paradise, which you invariably say you are--Don't report on it!

This time next month, we're off to property hunt in the thick mountain forests near Chaing Mai in Northern Thailand or the beaches and mountains of the south in Hua Hin. We may also gave Pattaya a look/see simply because we have guest room privileges there; either way, I'm going to have be hog tied and dragged back here in August.

I disagree with people who say "You're never too old to 'blah' 'blah' 'blah' " I can think of a lot of things one shouldn't do past a certain age that are creepy. Flirting comes to mind. Clubbing is another. So is wearing t-shirts with band logos.

Normal is a cycle on a washing machine. But so is agitate.

Lust in your twenties. Love in your thirties. Volunteer to do the dishes on occasion after forty.

Before I die, just for kicks, I want to jump on a bandwagon.

Why does Animal Planet still show "Crocodile Hunter"? We all know how the story ends.

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