To the BATMOBILE

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

butlerman tomyam style

Sour, sharp, tasty and that extra dash of spices.
Served with a cold glint in the eye.
This is butlerman - tomyam style, fresh from thailand.

Thailand, the caucasian man's land of opportunity. I still remember just how 6 days ago, or 144 hours, or 8640 minutes, or some 3000000 seconds. A mind bogglingly short period of time (made simpler by the use of Windows Calculator). Yet within such a seemingly insignificant space of time, so much has happened.

I have...

1) Played two matches (and scored once, thank you very much. autographs will be handed out later)
2) Been approached by two hookers (or anyone, for the first time in my life. The former's adam's apple did put me off somewhat and spoilt the moment. The latter had a sexy figure, but it was buried under a number of layers of wobbly fat)
3) Joined a secret underground brotherhood of dashing young men with an untold amount of riches and girlfriends. (Unforunately I'm just joking. I probably would have been the odd one out anyway.)
4) Chased by short fat half-naked youths with tattoos after patting their gangdog (How was I suppose to know the dog belonged to them)
5) Been forgotten by everyone in Singapore. (Ungrateful bastards)

National Geographic-worthy.

Number 5 was the most expected to tell you the truth. Butler-sense told me something was wrong right from the very start of the day. Sleeping through the wakeup call (nothing particularly unusual - but still), and stumbling into the dining area craving something edible (asking for something that tasted vaguely of anything would be asking too much from a hotel). Unfortunately enough, the cook seemed to have stumbled onto the world's largest cache of World War 2 rations and decided to have a laugh among themselves by serving it (in Thai of course. That way nobody can understand the gibberish they are amusing themselves with. "Hah, wait till that westerner-boy realises he's eating goat shit mixed with wet cardboard." Not that anybody could understand their english anyway). 5 pain-filled hours of listening to pre-pubescent Sec Ones screaming later, I board the aeroplane to find out that I'm being attended to by Mrs Troll and her Ogre Stepmother whereas my neighbour has the personal attentions of a ravishing 20 year old beauty (so what if he had dislocated his knee. I was half-contemplating to break mine there and then).

Reaching home (barely alive and sustained by the IV-drip), I find out my friends could not wait another 24 hours to watch Batman Begins (I was stuck on tour for 144 hours with a room-mate who amuses himself by skinning sausages for crying out loud) and revel in the fact my relationship with the girl I'm smitten with (to the point that I'm using "smitten" with) seems to have degenerated into a limbo (yet again).

Having witnessed it all (and still not knowing how much "It" is), I've attained the steely gaze of someone who has the knowledge of the world at his fingers, and has traversed the planet (and still gotten nowhere at home). This is Butlerman - Tomyam style. Your choice to literary food poisoning.

TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 11:15 pm
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