Trat, 17 febr. 2012.
The kind of look this skinny bloke gives ME probably makes women lament same-sex attraction though the man is Nada to write home about, his clothes falling of his too lean frame like they were potatoe sacks...smoke coming out of his nostrils despite the non-smoking sign on the front window of this mini-bus to Trat, nostrils that belong to a thin and long nose with a couple of bumbs on it making it pretty clear to me he got his orphanatory organ smashed on more than one occassion, probably giving other confirmed hetrosexual-oriented males the same sort of I Want You look, a pencil thin mustache riding a lipless mouth, his hands, long and bony, are marked with lesions that are probably a sign of the AIDS virus he is suffering from...a swagger to his gait as though his hero Numero Uno Freddie Mercury is constantly singing inside his bony head...
Not that I mind gays all that much, the more of them the merrier, less competition in the gene pool, major competition out of the breeding game!!!
Not that I am looking my best myself today...the Kloster drinking session with daughter number one Joy last night probably still clearly visible in the lines that streak my Farang face, my paint-spattered jeans and sweaty singlet, my hairy armpits transmiting the smell of stale beer, a three days' rubble of grayish beard on my chin...
Mister My Name Is AIDS inmediately starting a monoloque about young and willing cambodyan boys, never mind I am interested or not...five hours from Bangkok Ekkamai bus station to Trat, having to listen to this shit...SHIT,SHIT,SHIT!!!
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