Tag Archives: bali

30th March 2001

I finally posted my Bali Blogs. Perhaps in another two months I’ll post some travel photos, I’m feeling ambitious.

10:37 a.m.

27th February 2001


From: A friend at work.

Subject: Cultural observation.

Between you and me, there’s something about the British that gets under my skin. There’s an underlying “I’m more clever than you” in almost every dealing you have with them. The arrogance rivals that of the Germans, who are at least above board about it. –“Yes, ve are superior, why does zis surprise you?”

4:21 p.m.

When I got to work yesterday, my cube door was blocked off and the cube was brimming with balloons. Apparently, my coworkers have healthy lungs, and some time on their hands. Man, you’ve gotta try this. It’s just like one of those ball pits at McDonalds, except I don’t have to take my shoes off or shoulder check little kids to get some respect.

2:28 p.m.

Someone typed “find my dream girl” into Google and my page popped up. (I’m currently on the second page of links, at the top.) I haven’t decided if the search request was a technologically advanced form of stichomancy or just a slightly idealistic porn hunt. I would be flattered, but then I’d have to acknowledge the fact that I’m third on the list when you type in “girl on couch sofa.”

12:52 p.m.

OK, I’m back. I can’t eat anything that smells like food, but the trip was amazing overall. As soon as Bali Belly and jet lag subside (14-hour time change) I’ll post some travel blogs.

You. Can’t. Wait.

(OK, I can’t wait, but let me indulge in a little projection now and then. How is it hurting you?)

Meanwhile, I’d like to thank Dave for his generous help posting while I was gone. I brought him the meanest monkey mask ever. It’s shedding on his carpet at this very moment. So nice.

10:09 a.m.

18th February 2001

So I’m posting from the road, which is kind of sad when you think about it. I’m half a block from a monkey forest and instead of walking around outside, I’m locked in a little bamboo stall typing. Bali is wired, my friends. There’s an Internet cafe about every three feet. They know about the Backstreet Boys, Tommy Hilfiger, and those horrible bottled Starbucks drinks. Shoot me now.

Also, everything costs two bucks. Well, everything except for the four-foot-high wood carvings of masturbating monkeys, those are about $250. If only I had a bigger place.

[editor’s note] Fixed Mighty Girl’s link to Annie from yesterday if you’re interested.

While I’m away, you should read Little Yellow Different:

“On a tangeant, this whole Asian-chick-and-labor thing reminds me for that Tide commercial. You know which one I’m talking about, right?

(Japanese woman speaking to the camera, cut to shots of a white guy playing basketball and pagoda’s in the background. Cut to another shot of same white guy kicking back a beer while watching sumo wrestling.)
“You know, I love my husband. But when I moved to Japan for work it took a while for him to get used to his new surroundings. The clothes he bought in America are precious to him. That’s why I wash his clothes in Tide!”

Now, I’m not a militant Asian, by any means. But let me get this straight — Asian woman has a job overseas while her husband mills around the house drinking air-mailed Budweiser and watching sumo wrestling. And SHE STILL DOES HIS FUCKING LAUNDRY?! Oh, hell no. If I was her, I’d get his gaijin ass to the fucking laundromat and tell him to wash his own damn clothes. *breathes deep* Okay, I’m better now. Carry on…”

“So I’m talking with my girl, Belinda. My very attractive, very feminine female friend Belinda. And she’s yelling at me over Instant Messager.

“WHAT? What do you MEAN you’re borrowing a copy of Diablo II?! You have to get your own copy so you can register the key and play over battle.net.” I could almost see her roll her eyes and toss her hair as she types that. “And if you’re lucky, I’ll even let you on my team.”
This is fucking surreal. Just the other day she was talking about the outfit she bought at Banana Republic. “Really?” I stutter. “How strong is your character?”
“Level 65 Ice Sorceress. You?”
*cough* “Uhmm.. Level 18 Necromancer.”
“Ugh. I guess I could help you out. Did I mention I play Tekken Tag Tournament too? Get a Playstation 2 and I’ll kick your butt anytime. Anytime.

You know, it’s a damn shame I’m homosexual. Because I think I just met the hottest girl. Ever.”


10th February 2001

I have purchased a little red bikini, 3 gallons of 30 SPF Waterproof sunscreen, and a two-week supply of Pepto Bismol chewables. I can’t lift my left arm, so the tetnus shot must be working. All of this means, I’m-going-to-Ba-li-and-yoo-oo-oou-are-ent!

OK, that was cruel, and possibly inaccurate. I mean, I have no way of knowing what’s up with you, and you seem like the jaunty, world-traveling sort (I think it’s the sports sandals). So if you plan to be on Bali or Lombok in the near future and you see me, come say hi.

I wanted to have a guest blogger while I was gone, but I couldn’t decide whom to ask. Instead, I’ve compiled some entries from sites I like. My trusty friend Dave will be posting stuff for me while I’m gone, though he won’t receive a single sexual favor in return–he wants me to bring him back a monkey mask. (Dave could use some help with his bargaining skills, my friends.)

Well, I’m off to take bucket showers and purchase carved items. No parties while I’m gone, and take care of your sister.

8:41 a.m.