There is the New Here: 15b) Bang to the Kok (part 2)

This is my nemesis in Thailand. I used to think i liked spicy food before I got here, but it turns out that i don't even know what spicy food is. Between the heat and the beer to put out the heat my stomach is turning somersaults..

My reflux pills stand no chance against these forces of evil. Taking them to stop reflux is like trying to put out a California wildfire with a squirt gun and a bottle of Poland Spring. The real bitch of it is that my will to resist the vile temptress known as chilies is all but nonexistent.

Each meal starts with such good intentions and ends with me sweating profusely while suffering from heartburn on the level of an overweight Brooklyn cop. And in-between I'm like Pookie in New Jack City- holding the crack pipe with tears streaming down my face trying to make it to morning. It's a sad state where love and hate duel it out on the battlefield called my scarred esophagus, and in the end everyone loses.

A Spicy Food Lover's Prayer

God, Give me the grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed,

Courage to change the things which should be changed,

And the wisdom to distinguish the one from the other.

And also God, give me a side of hot sauce on everything, even my cereal.

I know it's gross God, but you made me this way, so fucking deal with it.

3/12 (continued)

Speaking of interesting foods, this was a toppings bar at an ice cream stand. Everything seems status quo, until you realize that the yellow jar at the back is filled with corn. Yummo?

Muay Thai Boxing. Kick his ass, Seabass!

This is an interesting take on the cage match. The audience, not the fighters, was in the cage. I suppose I would have found this offensive, had I not selected to sit in the caged section with the unruly Thais.

Because that's where all the betting went down!

5-1 odds that this guy has broken someone's fingers in the last week. Any takers? C'mon, where's my action?

The betting process is still a mystery to me, but it involved an intricate system of hand signals and lots of loud, spastic shouting. Odds would change throughout the fight based on a universal acceptance by the crowd of who was winning. I tried to ask what happened if there was a k.o. in round 5 after everyone in the audience had agreed on a winner in round 4 and subsequently paid the bookies before the fight was over (which basically happened every fight). I never got an answer but I did get some dirty looks from the locals for not staying in the white-boy seating section. Don't those fools know the only part of me that's white is my fat-ass wallet? Oh snap, that's right.

They left this up after a 1978 Foreigner-Journey double-bill. I didn't see which way ELO was supposed to go, but I didn't really look that hard.

Is there an extreme sport that Redbull doesn't sponsor?

The marketing team there is going to have to start inventing sports just to sponsor them. Oh wait, they already do.

The night's big winner... Kid Delicious. A few more wins and he can quit his moonlighting gig as a lady boy.

3/13

Two Friday the Thirteenths in a row!? What's going on here? Did father time go on holiday and leave the reigns to Vincent Price?

Touring Bangkok with a Korean chick that lives in Dublin. The pigtails were her idea. I should have proposed right then and there.

This game involved hacking/head-butting/shoulder-butting a small volleyball 25 feet in the air into a tiny hoop. Amazing skill, but do you need matching jerseys just to stand around in a circle?

Street food in Bangkok is a culture unto-itself.

The homeless here must eat like kings, as the city is essentially one sprawling outdoor kitchen. A new love of mine- the fried banana. This + raspberry jam = fat (but happy) Robby.

The night of a thousand wigs

Like a little Joey Ramone in training

This pretty much says it all. Bob Marley and Che Guevara. These have to be the two most copied images in the world.

Which gets me thinking about what that says about people? They are both symbols of uprising- of power to the masses. They're both non-white men with scraggly beards. They're both seen as unifiers and they were both persecuted for their beliefs. So I guess that is the secret to international acclaim:

1) Grow a beard

2) Fight for a cause

3) Die a martyr for said cause at the hands of the man

If you were unfortunate enough to be born white, however, just give up now. You have no shot. Just buy a set of golf clubs and go into finance already. But as insurance I'd suggest hanging these two images in your foyer for when the rebels eventually come. They'll want blood but if they see good old Bob and Che they might at least spare the women.

And speaking of prolific imagery... for once I really am lovin it!

Clever, but where's his morals? Any fish that is willing to serve a steaming plate of his own kind is not worth patronizing as far as I'm concerned. The situation just isn't that dire, my man. I mean this isn't 1939 Poland.