Bintang blues


I don’t know what happened last night, but I didn’t wake up until 4 o’clock this arvo, so it must’ve been good.

I managed to leave my hotel around 11, after the storm passed, and soon found myself in a bar chatting to a retired hitman from South Australia. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s attracting interesting characters. Anyway, he told me about breaking people’s arms, driving getaway cars and what he plans to do to some of the local troublemaking kiddies when he gets back home. I just nodded politely and made sure I didn’t do anything to piss him off. It reminded me of a lovely chap I met in Amsterdam while watching the State of Origin, who told me he was planning to murder his ex-wife when he got back to Newcastle. “There’s a lot of desert out there,” he told me. “They’ll never find the body.” Can’t imagine why his missus left him.

Everything past that point is a bit of blur. I know I got on the cans big time at some sort of nightclub in Kuta, but that’s all I remember until I woke up and chucked a gutful of rancid nasi goreng into the toilet. My arse isn’t sore, so at least I know I didn’t end up with a ladyboy.


So today was a total write-off. I wandered down to Maccas and got something called a McSpicy, a prostitute told me I need a haircut, I sat on the beach and watched a beautiful sunset while some fat chick wearing what looked like a blue tarpaulin did her best to ruin my shots, and I came back to the hotel. Oh, and I saw something awesome! It was a gay couple, but they were both wearing bandanas and had these cool cut-off shirts and army pants, which made them look like some sort of wrestling tag team. See, these motherfuckers understand what homosexuality is about. If I was gay, my boyfriend and I would always wear matching outfits and walk around shouting at people and doing cool hand gestures, and we’d get so much pussy. Here’s a really shitty photo I took of them. It’s the only thing I have to remember my heroes with 😥


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