humans are funny

Category: thailand

  • beautiful vomit


    Koh Phi Phi (pronounced pee pee) is another paradise in paradox. I hate the word breathtaking, but I really think this island on the Andaman coast of Thailand deserves it. If there were a beauty competition among islands, I’d say it would win every time, provided the judges had really bad sinus infections or were born with the unfortunate inability to olfactor. The island stinks. There is some sort of sewage problem, and at times it felt like someone had shoved one hundred NY sewers up each nostril. The putrid stench made cats wail and forced many a fork down at dinner.

    If you get past the smell, you will have the opportunity to enjoy spotless white beaches in bays surrounded by lush green jungle.

    Unfortunately, you might have to drink in these beauties to the tune of DJ Tiesto and puking partygoers. Once again, the locals have found the best way to cater to tourists is by selling them buckets of alcohol. And sometimes they give the buckets away from 11:40 – 11:50 or from 12:10 – 12:20, creating a stampede of frat bros and cheap bitches in party dresses.

    Everyone is dancing on the sand. Everyone is tongue wrestling with strangers. Everyone is getting tattoos at 4am. Everyone is too inebriated to think my joke about Koh Pee Pee smelling like Poo Poo is funny.

    A Phi Phi sunset. No Photoshop. Of course nobody saw it but me.

    I won three buckets of moonshine by playing this game in which everyone ties a balloon to his ankle. The last one standing with a balloon wins. It came down to me and a Korean chick. She played dirty and kicked my shins. I slit her throat.

    No party in sweltering weather is complete without fire.
    Mental note: Butt cracks and cigarettes always get the guy.
    Mexicanas en la casa, chingon.

    PS The last time I found myself on a party beach was here. Since then, two people have died on that very slide! WARNING! Alcohol and ghetto slides made from kitchen tiles lead to very bad circumstances. Do not try at home. Or in Asia.

  • and rats and pastries







    Bangkok was a blur of lights and taxis and tourists and dreadlocks and markets and street food and boats and rivers and trains and malls and more tourists and mangoes and fresh-squeezed orange juice and hawkers and lady boys and cafes and high rises and hookah pipes and backpackers and old men with acordions and rooftop swimming pools and wafts of garlic and tuk-tuks and beggars and traffic and temples and monks and offerings and palaces and swanky restaurants and desserts and riverside bars and conversation and old people and music and shouts and sweat and expats and crossword puzzles and ATMs and rain and cockroaches and government buildings and more traffic and more rain and more food. I loved it.

  • Safe from AIDS. This time.

    I made it. Eleven days & eleven nights. Silent. Wooden pillow. Chanting.

    I think I joined a cult.

    I won’t waste your time by writing about it here. I will personally come to everyone’s door to let you all know about it.

    In other news… I immediately booked it to the beach after the retreat. And today, my camera, the most prized possession with me, died. It was actually murdered. Viciously.

    It was in my hand, innocently snapping a close-up of a monkey just like it has always loved to do. This monkey’s friend, a crass fellow, bared his teeth and hissed like an exorcism patient. At first I thought he was just trying to make his friends laugh by scaring tourists. But then, with his sharp teeth angled toward my calves, he charged toward me.

    I immediately saw a future of AIDS and bite scars and rabies. My body performed what was later coined ‘the spreent of eets life’ by a Romanian observer. I charged full force into the pristine sea. My body meant to stop when the water hit its knees, but the inertia of the sprint plunged it deeper until it was fully emerged, clothes, camera and all.

    The jerky primate then laughed and smelled his own butt.

    Now I must fill out a report with my insurance, blaming the claim on a monkey.