It was as wet as a fat chick in a chocolate shop when I landed, and I was very happy that the angry-looking chaps at customs didn’t suspect that I had 48 bootleg copies of Hanson’s Three Car Garage stashed up my arse. I soon got the full South-East Asian experience by getting ripped off with the taxi to my luxurious $27-a-night hotel. Some people would call it a shithole, I call it authentic.
Alright, I just wrote that for comic effect. It’s actually very nice, close to the beach, has a pool that’s not full of tattooed muscle-dudes or the annoying side-effects of other people’s sexing (I mean children, not pool-spoof. There’s probably plenty of pool-spoof in there and, if not, it’s only my first day here.
I don’t need to get into the specifics of Bali. If you’re Australian, you’ve been here, and if you’re not, but you’ve met an Australian, they’ve told you about it. If you’re not Australian, have never met one, but have a great set of tits, we’re lovely people.
I decided to wrap myself in the local culture by getting on the cans at 10:15am and laying around on the beach (the verdict of the patch of sand at Legian: A million times better than the sliver of dirt and rocks that the Europeans call a beach, but dirty, crowded and full of tourists, like Bondi.
I was lying there in my undies, sucking back the cans when an old lady who looked like she probably went to school with Noah approached me and asked if I wanted her to masturbate me. After throwing up a bit, I said yes, then lay back and waited for her to do her magic. Imagine my surprise when she she started rubbing every part of my body other than my penis. And imagine her surprise when I made up for the shortfall in service.
(This didn’t actually happen, although I wish it did)
And what’s the deal with fat Aussie dudes on scooters? They’re everywhere, their crap tatts and bald heads shining in the sun. I would bet money that most of these dudes would rather have a length of barbed wire roughly inserted up their wee hole than be seen riding one of these things in Australia, but they love it over here. They’ve often got attractive Asian women on the back, and I’m starting to suspect they may even be paying for them.
After a long day of doing fuck all, I’m taking a break and drinking cheap beer on my balcony while listening to Marcy Playground and eating prawn-flavoured chips. It’s a tradition I have since my time in Samoa. I have good memories of sitting on the steps of my fale, eating honey twists, when a heavy-set woman asked me to drive her to the next village. She thanked me with oral sex, and by the look on her face I had the smallest taro she’d ever seen.
Alright, fuck this, I’m off to get drunk and finger sunburnt chicks from Adelaide.
The Drunk and Jobless World Tour 