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You know it's there, and it will come and bite a man's ass whenever and wherever. So be on guard. Bob's talking about that there female intuition thing. It happens all the time. A guy can't get away with shit.

It's just like at this wedding, when Bob was a young’un back in 1987.

When I finally entered the room, Tanya spotted me, and immediately
came up to me. 


“Where have you been?” she said, arching her eyebrows. “You were
gone awhile.”

“Oh, I just grabbed some air outside, and had a chat with Mitchell.”

“What were you talking about for so long?”

“His, uh…, relationship with Laurie and where it was going, or not.” I said.

“You know, their whole on-again, off-again saga with all that major work
and drama.”

“Aha.” She gave me that all-knowing female look. She knew that I’d been
talking 
about other matters and that likely it related to us. You could never
figure out how they do that.


So just accept it's there, and the sooner your sorry ass understands that, and learns to operate within that paradigm, then the better for your male happiness and well-being in a relationship.

 
Here are a couple pieces on trying to explain it all, How A Woman's Intuition Is The Most Powerful Force There Is and this second piece with Women's intuition is biological: Lower exposure to testosterone in the womb gives females an extra 'sense'.


Our PhD gal, Audrey Nelson, spouts a somewhat sober and serious spiel on it. 
 

She’s correct and clinical in her approach, but it’s a little too intellectual for we simple stupid fellas. So here’s straight up Derrick Jaxn weighing in and also mixing in the "It's about trust" angle, and how it should be for the ladies and their men.


Comedian Billy Sorrells has a good go on this as well. 
 

They even make songs on this. There are many out there. Here’s a throwback 1986 disco soul pop number, from the Dutch side of the pond, with our gals Mai Tai.


It should be noted that this wedding actually happened 30 years back on June 20—a friggin’ long time ago! They’re still together, and we had a good laugh on the phone about it. An early day strategic text message from this side "reminded" hubby bud of their milestone, and saved him some grief no doubt. 

What makes marriage “work” over time (beyond just a few years) was covered off in this prior post on Long-term marriage, but here’s a quick and easy clue to assist with sussin’ shit out.


In the long haul, a guy deffo needs a sense of humor, cuz your sorry ass is gonna take that intuition (and other multi-faceted) punishment coming your way ... every friggin' day!!!! Here’s Billy Sorrells again with a small example of this, and being on the receiving end.


Bob’s digging his defeated “Just let me live, okay” at the close.


If you don’t have enough humor going on in life, or needs an escape from such relationship situations, find solace in this read as our single, quasi-antihero Bob gallivants about hitting weddings worldwide, dodging marriage bullets and trying his best not to let those female powers have full control beyond the 99.9% of the time they already do. 



You’re young and single at some wedding abroad, and things are fine, but then you get the drift that one of the two between bride and groom feels the need to “fix” things by playing matchmaker with your ass and some friend on the other side.

This tactic happens quite a bit as these  two pieces speak to with The 3 Questions To Ask Before You Play Matchmaker At Your Own Wedding and Why Your Wedding Is The Perfect Place To Play Matchmaker.


Sure, the odd blue moon fairytale lottery romance can strike as recounted in 10 Couples Who Met At A Wedding (Really!), but it's far from the norm, so let's go smoke another one, shall we? 


Getting back to Bob’s past situation in London, just before the ceremony, he got his first warning.

Jimmy McCracken sidled up alongside me, with Cory a step behind us. 
“Hey, Bobby, I hear that Bernadette is keen to set you up with her Aussie
friend, Jilli. You should go for it,” he said in his gravelly baritone.

Then in a car on the way to the reception the second warning shot is fired. 

“Bernie told me you are at our table, Bob,” said Tammy, changing the
subject. “And so is Jilli.” She turned her head with a simper to look at
me in the back.

“Sounds like something prearranged” I said warily, looking back at her.

Then, just before the reception meal, you still need to do that there “Trust, but verify” thing, which is ever so important, especially in this day and age with the super bogus crap they spin in "The News" to we sorry brainwashed (m)asses.

I checked the seating plan and made my way to the table. Bernadette
had indeed made sure that Jilli was assigned beside me. The fix was in.
Our round table of eight was an equal mix of friends from both sides.

 

Now, apart from going solo to a wedding to begin with, which has never bothered Bob in the least, it does seem to freak many a folk out, which is understandable.

For some, it's the pressure of being there alone to be harangued and harassed by friends and family on why you aren't settled down and married off yet. Or it could be about being in a big crowd and not knowing many (or sometimes even, anyone, apart from one of the wedding couple) there. Age, life (in)experience and personal insecurities also play a factor with one's level of (dis)comfort. It's all about attitude!


At this particular wedding just outside London back in ’91, Bob was kool with all of this, since his ass wasn’t even yet 30, and he's always been pretty relaxed about most shit out there. 

Others over the 30-year-old watershed seem to disagree, as outlined here from differing perspectives in The Minefield of Being Single at a Wedding,  Going To A Wedding Alone Doesn\t Have To Suck, and closing with This Is What I Learned from Going to Seven Weddings Alone.

Really, it all boils down to your mindset and eagerness, as our effervescent and enthusiastic gal recounts with Brtish aplomb in 21 easy breezy steps. 


More stuff happens in these solo situations as one gets older and crossing major life milestones, but let’s cover that shit off another time.

Going solo certainly opens the door for a wedding hookup. Everyone's relatively pre-vetted already, unless some uninvited individual(s) manage to surreptitiously grace the event. 


These two pieces elaborate further in When You're Single at a Wedding, It's ALL About Finding a Hot Hookup and the aftermath with What Really Happens After a Wedding Hookup. But hey, there ain't no real rules here. Make 'em up as you go along, depending on the situation. 
 

So, if your solo ass does indeed get lucky, here’s a handy dandy piece with suggestions on the 7 Best Places for a Discrete Wedding Reception Hookup. It's all about situational awareness in situ. 


If the intended romantic pairing strategy doesn't work out as preordained, and even if there’s no hookup action whatsoever, don't despair. Kick back, relax and enjoy yourself with another alco-pop and dancing, as this energetic and passionate guest displays with gusto. 


If you don't possess that there type A personality and gumption to make things happen on your own as above, chances are a there’s always the wild-card, anything-is-possible factor where other random mofos spontaneously take the event in new directions for you to behold firsthand. 
 

Ahh, such wedding memories will last a lifetime, even if those marriages don't quite make it nearly as long. 

If anyone is interested in knowing what transpired in London with Bob that night, and many other follow-on exotic events, tuck into his debut novel covering off some single guy’s worldwi(d/s)e wedding (mis)adventures. So put that in your pipe and smoke it.






We live in a world of dualities, with the classic good / evil polarity pair being but one, like hot / cold, large / small, and love / hate among others. Where does one pole or extreme end and the other start? It can be hard to determine sometimes, and other times, it might be much more clear.

The topic came up in discussion at a Middle East wedding years back, when one of Bob’s friends had been out there having some fun and frolic the night before, and a few others in the group may have been fast to judge said friend’s behavior on the matter.

“Well, it’s all relative. It wouldn’t be my style, but I don’t begrudge Pickett taking
advantage of a spontaneous opportunity. They made a grown-up choice. It’s the
way of the world—like them Booble boys and ‘don’t be evil.’”

“Thanks for the hall pass, Bob,” said Pickett, smiling. “I’ll sleep better tonight.”

“Hold on there, I’m not done. ‘Don’t be evil’ is nothing like ‘do good,’ which is more
proactive. It’s rather a bit more ambivalent—like, ‘lemme wait and see if I benefit
before I wade in.’ Or maybe, ‘by pausing, I can hinder things.’ Bad stuff can also
happen when nothing’s done, but no one was ‘evil’ per se. There’s a whole gray
spectrum between ‘doing good’ and ‘being evil.’
 
You know that stuff be truth, and folks be pullin' that kind of crap every single day of the week (and twice on a Sunday), be it for bidni$$ or in their personal lives. Here's a nice one on point from a few years back, but more relevant than ever. 


In some notional imaginary parallel universe cum altered reality, there’s a similar entity masquerading as Booble, but you should be able to figure it out. If not quite sure on how brands are spun here, Bob refers you to this prior post on the matter for an explanation.


Guess that them there Booble boys found the bar a little too high here, in terms of measuring up to exemplary ideals, so said mofos not only went and changed the corporate name back in 2015, but used it as convenient excuse to  do away with the tagline above, in favor of “Do the right thing.”

Does this mean they think our sorry sheeple asses will forgot it all? And for “who” are said mofos doing the right thing for—themselves—no doubt.  Damn skippy there! This nifty little A-to-Z corporate history primer here can fill in a few extra blanks for you, along with these additional pieces here and here.

Despite there being a lot of discussion on this matter of Booble being evil, the root word "boob," in and of ltself, singular, and/or plural (which is better), is most deffo not evil. The company logo proves it. Look long and hard here, Bobbolin(o/a). So....what;'s not to like?!
But they have this sneaky other logo that points to sumpin' more sinister going on. Others may dismiss it as being mere "coink--e-dink" of course. Let's smoke another one, shall we?

To go back to the whole duality and inseparability of good and evil, let's consider the sliding scale, and stay on the relative "bad" side. 


So, how evil is / was Booble, and how do they stack up to all the other evil going on out there in the world, uhm, like say Halloween and its origins, creepy clowns and other small shit like that?


But first, maybe you have to let it happpen to you and not do anything about it. Either that, or head it off at the pass before it gets there. 


Evil is relative, but then again, your relative might be evil too, especially if she’s your mother-in-law, like our exhibit below. 


N.B. / Major Friggin' Hint: Do NOT marry into this kind of situation, or your sorry ass will be hooked to a whole bunch of hurt and malice for years to come. 

Yo, sometimes that evil shit starts at an early age, and evolves to bigger and better over time. It’s like playing golf every day, and perfecting things over decades.


The initial kernels of genius are a genetic gift, just like with all other human capabilities, but they can be nurtured and refined to be made more powerful. Imagine the possibilities down the road with this pair.


Two future Booble execs here, or maybe they create their own realms, and take things to a whole new level of evil excellence. There be some serious Damien / Omen-esque stuff festering there. 

Regardless of your personal take on good versus evil, that, plus a whole boatload of witty observations and wry wisdom, as they apply to weddings, marriage thereafter and a cornucopia of other goodies, await to warp and twist your mind. It's all covered in Bob’s debut novel about his single-guy, nupital travel (mis)adventures abroad.



Subject: Brands and altered reality
(Posted on Jun 12, 2016 at 01:21PM ) Tags:
Throughout the book, a bunch of brands and product placement references have been sprinkled about, but many are not spelled correctly. Bob does know how to spell, most of the time (depending on the language), and it's done on porpoise here for effect. 

Here are a bunch of examples pulled from the novel: 

- Kokee Kola

 
- Appfull and its iconic iPot  device (it plays tunage people, and is not a vaporizer for weed)

- Totoya
the vehicle brand highly favored by insurgents, terrorists, freedom fighters and revolutionaries worldwide

- iFone
another product by our good friends and drinking buddies at Appfull




- McDonnell's, the best hangover food ever per some, and occasonally referred to as "Ralphin’ Ronnie’s" by others

 
Yes, it does really exist, per here. A discussion on this matter of their past “Don’t be evil” mantra merits separate coverage another time.


- WinWoes 98, and an oblique mention of “the hegemony of Redmond”

- Fizper, a big pharma outfit, and one of its lesser known "vascular" products called CadavERect

- Ballihurton, an evil-ass, global, oil field services corporation

- Glumberscher, another global oil field services giant, where Bob's ass actually worked decades back for a couple years (hence not calling it evil-ass)

Many other brands do remain the same as we know them in this reality, mostly good things like booze (be it beer, wine, bubbly, sake, whisky vs whiskey), cigars, watches, and other items. At other times, Bob decided to keep an actual name in play for clarity, as with say AT&T, regarding a certain building in Manhattan, deemed to be a good sanctuary from marauding zombies, discussed here

This altered reality also applies to the treatment of some purely fictional character mentions as well, for reasons of satire and parody.

- Dom Cruz, some actor cat celebrity

- Will Klintun, sage of Arkansas, former US President, and scholarly spinmeister regarding the meaning of the word “is

- Rick Chany, evil-ass politician and businessman, who used to run above mentioned, evil-ass oil services corporation

- Nat Bukannan, a US paleocon political pundit

- Will O. Wiley, some imaginary Fox News talking head 

- Anne Coalturd, following on the above folks in similar vein

- Lush Limbaw, radio talk show jock and political commentator 
 

So what gives with all that? Hey, it’s Bob’s book, and the world he experiences is mostly like the one we know, but certain things have been altered.

It may have been presciently planned on his part, but there seems to be a tie-in to real changes similarly going on today right in front of our eyes. Many brands / products, media (e.g., books, movies, TV shows, music), titles, names, symbols, events and other references have all mysteriously seemingly subtly changed.


 
Look into something called the Mandela Effect and do some digging. No, you’re not losing your mind and memory. But don’t take Bob’s word for it.  A starter summary on the topic, if you’re interested, and not asleep at the switch, is below. More on this forum here too. 

 

As with all, do your own investigation and research to draw your own conclusions. What do you remember from your own experience?



If the Mandela Effect is a bit much for you to fathom or drives you bonkers, alternatively dive into this read for an escape from this reality (and all others) for shits and giggles, as some single cat travels the world attending weddings and gets into all kinds of situations and encounters. 




On a great stag night two days before the wedding, Bob was out with groom Dudley Steele and another dozen buddies from England, Spain, the Netherlands and Germany in Puerto de la Cruz on Tenerife's north side. Rounds of warm-up beers were followed by dinner at an Indian restaurant, where "somebody" decided it might be interesting to see how much heat could be put out there in one dish.

When the owner came to me, I turned to him. “Some of the lads are from England, and
like their food very spicy, sir. Not Spanish, white man, or even English vindaloo spicy.
Please make it extra
Indian spicy. I used to live in India. You know what I mean. Do your
best, please.” I laid down the gauntlet in challenge to his piquancy prowess.

“I make extra very special for you, sir,” he replied, smiling, and with a knowing gleam
in his eyes.

                                                                              ***

Our appetizers arrived. We were hit by the pungent wave of heat and spice wafting from
the one dish given extra attention. The owner beamed as he placed the plate in front of
me on the table. I knew from a distance, without a taste that he had risen to the challenge,
and then some.

Before us was a plate with half a dozen peppers stuffed with a selection of ground chilies,
unidentifiable little 
lumpy bits, and white clumps of some sort of cheese-looking substance.
Death peppers deluxe!

“Right, then,” said Roddy fearlessly. “I can handle it. Let’s do it together. No excuses, or
a bollocking.” Dudley, Mr. P, Roddy, and I each took a pepper confidently in hand.

“Remember lads, if it’s too hot, take some of the raita.” I pointed to the bowl on the table
beside the pepper plate. “No water. Or anything else. It will only make it worse.”

The four of us each popped one in our mouths and bit down. Like a shot, Roddy reached
for the raita bowl, and downed a healthy swig straight from the bowl, bypassing the spoon.
Serious stuff.  Mr. P’s face froze in horror. His jaw unhinged as he spat out mangled morsels
of pepper onto the plate. He turned red and his eyes teared.

My mouth exploded in a firebomb, with intensity I hadn’t experienced since I’d left India
three years ago. I could tolerate it though. I warmed up and felt sweat developing on my
brow.

“Jesus fuckin’ H. Christ, Bogus,” snarled Dudley, after he swallowed two spoons of raita
in rapid succession. He likely wanted to add more scolding, but couldn’t. Mr. P followed
and did the same, silent in his suffering, but his watery eyes clearly revealed his state.

“Bobby Bo was merely providing the opportunity for those that wanted an amped up
appie adventure,” I said.

“Right fuckin’ cunt you are,” retorted Roddy.

“You asked for it, mate,” I said calmly.
Innocent.

A few were clearly unhappy with this initial part of  our dining experience, and a bit miffed at Bob, despite their professing being tough guys in the HOT 'n SPICY department.

So, just what exactly had gone down here? We had very likely just been “ghost peppered” in that dish. On the Scoville scale of measuring the “bring the heat” factor, the Indian Ghost Pepper, or bhut jolokia (and a few other names), is way up there at the top.


Until 2013, that puppy was reputed to be the spiciest pepper out there. It has since been surpassed by the Carolina Reaper, and for a time by the Trinidad Moruga Scorpion and related derivative Butch T.

But hey, don’t take this pundit’s word for how hot these things are. Here's a nice intro from someone in the trade with some good narrative and background information.



Here are a few more folks that tried, and who wanted to share their experience. Pop one of these suckers in your mouth, and watch the mirth and mayhem unfold.


Our next hero contestant, RapidResponseKing (aka Tedy), needs to be admired for aiming to take in several in rapid succession. 
 

Our full-of-energy gal, GloZell Green, wasn't yet hip to things like water and soda NOT being a good idea here to fight the fire, even when she was munching on a lower intensity habanero


When stuff goes sideways on you here, know ito have some dairy around (e.g., milk, yoghurt, sour cream, raita or other fine things of that ilk.) to help douse the flames.

And sometimes, Momma knows best, as in “Just don’t do it!” We had to get a mention in there of her, what with Mother’s Day going down tomorrow.


Even if U a hottie, your sorry state won’t get spared when it comes time to bring the heat and take your ass down (as Bob likes to say), "faster than a piñata at Carlos Slim Helu’s surprise 50th birthday party."



And then, at the very end of this transforming culinary experience, after your having received that consumng warm embrace on the inbound path, one might find that gift of pure joy getting recycled through the outbound, backdoor end. So brace, and beware, Bobbolin(o/a)s. 


But hey, it’s all just like the tagline points out, on this bag below, as taken from Bob’s own pantry. 



Things like this, they ain’t be teaching your ass in school. That’s why Bob hits weddings across the world, where one can find oneself in all kinds of crazy situations and funny encounters in exotic locations. As some single cat traveling between continents, you pick up a few things along the way. And you can read all about it here, since life's too short for boring reads. 


 
A couple weeks before Christmas 1996, Bob was sitting in a rather sturdy church in Santiago, Chile, and trying to distract and amuse himself with different musings and thoughts during a tedious, full-on Catholic wedding ceremony. One such thread was about his general attendance, or lack thereof, in houses of worship. 

That I needed such diversions at all reminded me why I limited my presence in
religious venues to begin with—weddings 
and funerals only. Call it WaFO. I wasn’t
even a part of the seasonal C+E crowd.
OK, maybe add the odd baptism or bar
mitzvah, 
or if there might ever be need to stave off hordes of zombies taking
over the world.

Many churches were solid enough for such a siege, but it would be paramount to
hole up in one with minimal windows 
high enough up to be inaccessible to marauding
fleshseekers. In Manhattan, the AT&T Long Lines Building was 
arguably much more
zombie-proof than most houses of worship. It also held the advantage of not being home
to a 
particular religion—unless of course spiritual suffusion itself provided protection.

Not being a regular attendee, Bob was thinking about the fortress-like state of many churches, and comparing to that other edifice mentioned above. And why not? That’s the way Bob’s brain ticks along. You never know when zombies might strike. Always good to be aware, if not prepared per se. 

Here's a frontal of the Iglesia de los Santos Ángeles Custodios from the wedding, followed by that NYC structure. 


Do zombies even really exist, apart from our fascination with them in movies and TV? Some say there is indeed a basis there, but that is for another discussion altogether. Do your own research and make your own determination.

Regarding picking a suitable spot to make a stand, the downside may well be that if they can’t get in, you may consequently not be able to get out either. It goes both ways. Long term survivability is tied to a host of other factors, once you start to think about it.  Depending on where one is, and how they are encountered, and with various means and tools haphazardly at one’s disposal, any reaction to them will vary, even if it’s Grandma, as seen in Scary Movie 4.


The lads in Shaun of the Dead make some exemplary use of old 12-inch vinyl LPs in an inspired creatve moment, in the midst of their off-the-cuff defense tactics.


Bob commends their musical choices, sacrificing some for the sake of others. Do-or-die situations call for tough decisions.

Another facet to consider, is whether the other side will be the more traditional, slow-moving ones, or the newer, more agile fast ones (a la 28 Days Later and 28 Weeks Later), and how you need to react.


No matter where you are, beyond being holed up somewhere (hopefully) safe and defendable, your ass will need lots of supplies (e.g., guns, ammo, food, water, and other weaponry) in order to keep up the good survival fight.

Here are two highlight reels of improvised, imaginative methods on dealing with and dispatching zombies, doubling down on a Top 10 list approach from some of the cinematic genre's finer splatterfest moments over the years.


Bob particulalry digs the chainsaw bride scene, at position #2 in the second reel, seeing as the damndest things can happen at a wedding, so best to keep ever alert. Here below is the English language trailer on that Spanish flick, [Rec]3: Génesis


Ladies, talk about being real pissed when your big day doesn’t go down the way you had it all perfectly planned. Survival (and marriage) is all about pivoting and adapting.


Now that’s spicing a wedding day up somewhat. And as with any good romance story, there is that mandated "Happily Ever After" (or HEA, per short label in the trade) for the couple … sorta …kinda, in a dark and different way. But hey, that’s the  way love and weddings shake out sometimes in the real world.

You could also plan your very own zombie-themed wedding, as some have done.


Note it’s  pure coink-e-dink this post came up in time for Halloween.



No matter if at a wedding, or anywhere else, the Zombie Apocalypse, or a smaller, localized, regional variant therein, may sneak up on your ass when you’re least expecting it. That’s why some single dude traveling the world for weddings is always open to the possibilities of stuff happening around him. And you can read all about it and much more in this offbeat, and unique novel. Bob's got you covered if you want something different to read.



When Bob was down Mexico way years back and sitting around the pool killing time before a wedding, between arguments with his then girlfriend, he was pondering the following, all the while gandering at her.

She took proud pleasure, whenever asked, in confirming that they were not bolt-on
bazookas. As with car configurations, I tended to agree that OEM, straight 
off the 
assembly line, was best, albeit with certain de rigueur manufacturer installed 
options.
 
Adding aftermarket parts denigrated total package value and complicated maintenance
on a long-term basis. Once you started visiting the likes of Manny, Moe, and Jack at Pep Boys
it could be hard to stop tweaking and fussing over "improvements" in a slippery-slope spiral.
 

Bob draws on this automotive analogy, as applied to people parts, to illustrate his point.

One can do these modifications (mods, for short) well, or ... poorly. You choose. It’s all just a little consideration, or not, as the case may be. If you're going to go down this road, pardon the pun, doing things properly is the way to go, whatever your ride may be. 


Seeking competent professional help may well be better than a being a passionate, yet probably inept, first-time DIYer. And then, if you decide to press on yourself regardless, with things gone bad, that may breed a future cascade of additional corrective actions, and ongoing issues ever after. Here are a few to consider. 


Some of the ones above are definitely a little more creative / artistic than others, making up for any budgetary constraints with sheer chutzpah. But, even if your wallet’s thick and you can throw mucho $$$ at the task, getting things done purrfessionally [sic] and all, you still may not get the desired "organic"and "tasteful" end result. But like with many things, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and ultimately, the one with the check book. 


Back around the time of the wedding in the mid 90s, the range of going aftermarket with one’s body (i.e., plastic surgery), was mostly confined to the aforementioned bolt-on (boobies), nose jobs and other facial plastic surgery.  The field actually goes back to ancient civilizations and its earliest methods.


This link has a nice overview for those with a more historical interest in all this. 

Sure, there's a bonafide need for this whole area of medical practice, for those that really need it for serious reasons. Where the more amorphous judgment call falls is when folks opt for it, based on insecurity, and low self-esteem. No doubt, a lot of that also has to do with the “ideal” human imagery as constantly portrayed in and perpetrated by the media. 

Fast forward a couple of decades from the wedding, and there are a whole range of improved procedures and enhancements that can be had today. Here’s a good list from the American Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgery. Try one … try them all, over time. Be the first kid on your tony block to tick them all off the list. It’s all gone way deeper and wider now than Charles Dick’s classic, A Tale of Two Titties.

Today, it’s not just about slicing and dicing, but there are also interesting injectables for those that wish to avail of the miracles of modern medical science to look and feel their youthful best. Some are deemed less invasive than others, and cost less $$$, but still can have some known (and unknown) long-term, undesired results to keep things interesting and with an ever--evolving look.

Bob will let all y’all decide for yourself what looks good, based on a few extreme examples.



And remember, apart from the odd DIYers that took things into their own hands to cut corners and save some do$h, most of these "improved" looks below were done by those who knew the trade, and were well paid for their skills.


If all those follies aren't enough to make one pause a bit on all this, here’s a litle more on Monique Allen's cautionary tale to draw upon. 


Yikes, after that parade, it makes one think about the risks versus benefits of these aftermarket aesthetic enhancements.

Your ass is much better off plunking down way fewer dollars and dive into a copy of this quixotic, funny, off-the-wall tale about some single guy traveling the world over to exotic weddings.



I won this book through a giveaway here on GoodReads.

I really wanted to like this book, not only because it seemed interesting, but also because the author spent so much time and efforts to trace it, since it seemed lost, and I really wanted to reward him with a good review.

Unfortunately, I cannot do so. I really tried to enjoy it, but I was not able to understand his purpose in all this. The characters were boring and, honestly, sometimes I even felt disgusted by them. Even though he travelled all around the world and he dealt with many different kind of people, I could feel sometimes prejudices and bigotry, not to talk about the machismo. I think this is a book that only Canadian or American people could read, because they are the only ones that could properly understand it. The main character says the he is not ready to get married, but I think that he is just one of those forever irresolute people, unable to make decisions.

I decided to give it 2 stars because the descriptions of the different lifestyles around the world are very interesting.

The writing style is well-built, but in some parts the author uses so much slang that it is almost impossible to understand him for a non native English speaker like me. However, I will not blame him for this, because I am sure that it was due to my partial knowledge of the language.

I am sorry to write a review like this, but this is not a book I would recommend since it communicate me nothing.

Rating: 2 / 5 *

Original Posting: Fede | December 25, 2014 | Source Link: Goodreads

Subject: Tenerife #18 - What's in your glass?
(Posted on Jun 10, 2014 at 10:02AM ) Tags:
Perplexed by that ages-old glass that is half-full versus half-empty conundrum? Decisions, decisions.


It always depends on how you wanna look at stuff, ain’t it? Optimsim and pessimism are just states of mind. Attitude is what counts. 


Just as Dudley Steele scolded Billy Brant and "Student" Grant Lipman pooside at the villa in Tenerife, the day after his bachelor bash dished him a raging hangover, always ask your friendly neighborhood barkeep to pour you another one. Unless your’re getting bad pours, that should usually fix it. 


And if/when the beer runs out, switch to something else.


Whether your thinking runs left, right, middle of the road, or upside down, it doesn't matter. There's always an answer for that too, even if you're a more cerebral science- and math-minded type. 


And as our good friend and drinking buddy, The Most Optimistic Man in the World, always has a pository spin on things, here are a couple of apropos vignettes in light of the World Cup kick-off in just a few days time and another matter of note sure to make a splash in our world at some point down the road. 



Remember, as Bobby Bo likes to always say as a rule in life:

Think Pository = Negatory Suppository

At the end of the day, forget all that pseudo-intellectual philosophical crap, and just shout ¡Uno mas! When the beer runs out, no whine, switch to wine, shots or whatever else may be lying around. It’s all perspective.

And when you tire of this talk of glasses in various states of relative fill, maybe "Think green" and go smoke some weed or sumpin’ for yet another different take.

Subject: Westport #94 - Whaddup with Whiskey vs. Whisky?
(Posted on Jun 4, 2014 at 03:34PM ) Tags:
So what is it all about when you see that word spelled both ways, with or without 'e' in there? Supposedly a logic to it all drives that, but it is not always adhered to it seems. Go figure. Kinda like with a lot of things in the world.

As mentioned in the book, it is dependent on where the drink comes from, but many times, in practice, folks just spell it the way they want, based on what part of the world they are from. This includes writers and copy editors alike. 

First, here’s the Wikpedia skinny of what a whisky / whiskey is, to begin with. As for 'correct' spelling, there seems to have been a rethink on this the last few years though. This fine piece on The Kitchn goes into good detail on the whole matter, and settles on the following rule (going by country of origin, and what is on the bottle label):

- E in country name (e.g., United States / America and Ireland), then spell it whiskey, and the plural as whiskeys.
- No e in country name (e.g., Canada, Scotland, Japan, Australia, Finland, and India), then spell it whisky, and the plural as whiskies.

Note how the dueling plural forms of the word  can further bamboozle folks. Overall though, I  dig this simple rule and it makes complete sense by what it says on the bottle.

But then, Germany, England, and Wales had to come along and $%@* that up and spell it whisky nonetheless with their own products. So much for what makes sense in the world.


When using the term generically, go ahead and write it anyway you want, depending on where you are in the world, and your audience, as long as you are consistent. The venerable NY Times Dining column used to try and do that per here through late 2008, but then seems to have capitulated to the newer thinking here in early 2009. Hey, shit happens. Deal with it and move on is the motto to follow. 

These older chaps below, earlier on, went and messed the spelling up with their rendition of the word as whuskey in song.

Red Ingle and the Natural Seven singing "Cigareetes, Whuskey, and Wild, Wild, Women"  (1948)
The Muppet Show (special guest Peter Sellers), season 2, episode 18, original airing Feb. 25, 1978

Words of wisdom for the ages, unless you want to nail the trifecta, pardon the pun. There are many versions of this song, but the two here were mentioned in the book, in my conversation with Pops di Tomaso and his favorite rendition. There was no debate either back then about whether it was whuskey or whusky. That was for wussies, no doubt.

As for any other countries making the spirit that may or may not adhere to that rule, you can check that out, one by one, on Malt Madness if you have mucho mas time on your hands, and looking for something new to sip on. 

A place like Thailand and its whiskies adhere to the spelling rule, but those tipples are not actually officially deemed a whisky to begin with, per this 2011 Intoxicated Abroad posting and the Wiki definition above. BNB very much digs our main man Matt’s slogan, “Life’s too short to be sober at home.” It’s way better to be some single guy abroad, be it at weddings, or on other (mis)adventures cum vacations.

Like many things in life, best not to think about stuff too much, and just go friggin’ do it. And then, I suppose as long as the bartender knows what to pour, then you are golden. I end this post with a nifty little infographic on whisk(e)y to mull while sippin’ sumpin’ smoooooove.
 

Cheers, and bottoms up, Bobbolin(o/a)!

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