Padang Bai is every bit as shithouse as Amed is beautiful. I truly believe that this little blight on humanity crawled out of the anus of some sort of giant insect creature, and has been fucking shit up around here ever since. It makes fucking Melbourne look good.
I should’ve stayed in Amed. Ah, Amed, with your quiet streets and giant mountains and good food and lack of shittiness.
But instead I came here, where to walk down the street is to kiss your life goodbye, and where the guest houses charge extra for blankets, pillows and toilet paper.
Yes, toilet paper is extra, and I wasn’t stumping up the cash. I’m writing this on the can, and think my chances of picking up any chicks later tonight are pretty slim. Oh, wait a sec, the toilet doesn’t even flush. That one’s their problem, not mine.
I have reason to believe that I’m actually staying in a peasant village. I’m in a reasonably nice little hut thing ($10 a night, bedbugs free) and there’s a poor family yelling about two metres away from me, and they have fucking CHICKENS in their house! I bet they have bog roll, too. Cunts.
Oh, and the granny of the family keeps walking around with her tits out. If she makes me wank my cock any more times, the silly thing will fall off.
And it won’t stop raining on my parade like… I dunno, rain on a parade.
And the worst thing is that the interwebbing around here is so absolutely shithouse that I can’t even watch the footy. The Rabbits and Horses could be giving each other all sorts of season-ending injuries and I can’t even watch it.
On the plus side, I have no choice but to eat at a restaurant that recently killed two Australians through food poisoning. Shit weather, murderous food, don’t ya wish you were me?
The Drunk and Jobless World Tour 