The author of this blog has been called all kinds of names. Readers of this blog, however, have called him "brilliant," "bitchy," "witty," "insightful," and even "the perfect schizophrenic." You be the judge and tell him what you think.
"If Suzy Size can panhandle to pay for trips around Asia, then make money on a book she wrote about all the sex she has on the road, I am not too shy to ask for donations to pay for my face lift."
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9 January 2007
Shortly after the new year I had the alarming experience of viewing myself nearly naked in the large mirror inside my closet door. I just couldn't find the belt loop I was aiming for. Somehow, magically, I had aged practically overnight. So at long last I made the decision to look into cheating nature with a little surgical assistance. Thailand is famous for its high quality health care and lavish hospitals so I thought that finding the right place to do this would be easy until I began shopping. The newspapers are full of ads for all kinds of clinics and "day spas" that perform lunch-hour miracles. I began by asking several of our customers who had come here in the past for a tummy tucks and chin lifts. They were in and out of the hospital so fast I barely noticed, spent five or six days recovering at the beach, and returning home looking like a million bucks. Of course nobody probably figured out what they had done on their holidays.
Armed with recommendations about cosmetic surgery in Thailand, the boyfriend and I went shopping for a chin lift, some liposuction, and maybe some Thermage. What we saw was nothing less than astonishing. But you will have to wait until the next installment for details.
Nut and I were standing on our balcony on New Years Eve when we heard the bomb go off. "That wasn't fireworks," I said.
Honestly, these bombers have to be pretty lame. What is the point of blowing up a police box at an intersection where there are never pedestrians? Nobody has stepped up to take credit. Not the remnants of the deposed regime. Not the Moslem insurgents from the south. Nobody. There has been some speculation that elements in the new government did this to consolidate their power. Who knows. But traffic is still terrible, which means people are not staying home, and I have not seen anyone wearing body armor like soldiers in Iraq on the six o'clock news.
The cases of Yalumba Chardonnay I ordered turned out to be a nightmare. A supplier in Phnom Penh brought them from Saigon and I took a six hour bus trip from Siem Reap to pick them up and a six hour bus trip to take them back. (You can't get this stuff in Thailand. And even if you could the tax is so high that the price practically doubles. ) I immediately noticed that they were 2004, NOT the 2003 I ordered. "It's all the same," the supplier told me. He's French so he should know better. On closer inspection the bottles have screw tops. I have given in to rubber cork substitutes. But honestly, wine should not have a screw top unless it is poured while still wrapped in a paper bag. And the 2004? It's OK, but not worth twelve ass-busting hours on buses. Give it a miss, but if you come across a bottle of 2003, grab it!