Give Me Everything

It's come to this.  Blogging on a Saturday.  I spend a lot of time traveling these days.  My current weekly schedule has me working at the project site four days a week and making the trek between home and job site three times per week.  Traveling to the site gives me plenty of time to think thoughts.  I'll share some with you now:

There Is Only One Strip Club DJ in America:  Don't get me wrong, I haven't been in a strip club in a long time, but there was a time shortly after I moved to Las Vegas that I went regularly.  The one thing I vividly remember is that every single strip club DJ has the same voice.  During that time I also visited strip clubs in various cities in America for no particular reason other than to verify this theory.  You know how a pop star like Katy Perry will spend a day doing radio spots for 1000 different radio stations?  Saying something like, "I'm Katy Perry, and when I'm in Scranton and looking for continuous hits all day I tune my dial to [Pop-a-Lock 107, Hot Jamz 93, The Freakinator 92.3, The Pit, The Fox, Grinder 108, Power 99, Club Bomb 92, Pinky, The Brain, The Hustle, Hot Dropz, The Drip, The Mechanic,  The Jerk, Teen Rager 95, etc.]  Scranton's only station playing music that doesn't suck. " It's the same way at strip clubs except that every guy has the same voice. 

"Good evening and welcome to [Treasures, Deja Vu, Palamino, Crazy Horse, Cheetah, Toppers, Chelsea's, Scores, Sapphire, Scuttlebutt, Eden, Spearmint Rhino, etc.].  We have the sexiest ladies in [Atlanta, Vegas, Chicago, New York, Birmingham, Memphis, Rockledge, Fargo, etc.] coming to the stage right now. [Amber, Angel, Ashley, Angelina, Angela, Apple, Beth, Brandy, Clarissa, Charity, Chastity, Chance, Christy, Crystal, Charlie, Casey, Daniella, Danielle, Daisey, Foxie, Frannie, Gabriella, Grace, Gracie, Helga, Irina*, Iris, Janet, Jane, Janice, Kittie, Kammi, Lonnie, (Juicy) Lucy, Macy, Mandi, Melinda, Marissa, Miranda, Misty, Mary, Na-Na, Nikki, Natalie, Opal, Pearl, Penny, Penny Lane, Petunia, Precious**, Patience, Rose, Rosie, Rain, Rebecca, Roberta, Sarah, Serenity, Sam, Samantha, Shawna, Shanaya, Shanda***, Shannon, Sadie, Tiffany, Tijuana, Tanaya, Toni-With-An-I, Tony-With-A-Y, Tonya, Tiny, Ulga, Victoria, Vikki, Veronica, Vivian, Yolanda, Zap, and Zippy] to the stage please.  Coming to the stage right now, give it up for ...Michelle"  And out comes Michelle with her bedazzled bra, thong and mostly blank expression for a three song set, which will inevitably include this song:

*Exclusively reserved for Eastern Europeans
**I'm going to assume this name has lost popularity since 2010...
***Yep, I went there

 Wouldn't it be amazing if there was just one guy who did all the DJ voice-overs for every strip club in America, spending his life in a recording studio.  How do you get that job?  What do the clubs do when that guy gets too old to record the spots?  These are the questions that plague me while sitting on the ferry between HCM and Vung Tau.  I want to believe the recordings occasionally devolve into this [NSFW]:

Check out this brilliant sign:

How did they misspell the most important instance of "standby" on the whole sign, but get it right everywhere else?  Proofreading, people.  Perhaps they have a different person doing the writing for each font?  Do you think that person got in trouble?  My favorite part is the near miss in the third dashed rule, "First priority: who had prepared loose, Women, children, Old."  I've never prepared any loose versions of women, children or old people and frankly the idea that I have is a little insulting.  I found myself a little sad that they'd actually punctuated correctly.  And sorry old people, you'll just have to sit at the waiting area until the next ferry because you aren't getting a standby ticket this time.  I also like that Women and Children are treated as different.  So they'll let the woman on, but her child has to stay behind with grandma because there's only one seat left? Does the sluttiness of the woman's outfit carry any weight in the decision-making process?  And how does one define "old?"  There's no age listed, so I might be considered old if the boat was filled with a middle school field trip.  What if you're sixty but appear younger?  I feel like this sign creates a lot more questions than it answers.

If I need to meet the Director or Vice Director, how will I recognize him/her?  If I call the phone number listed, how will I know if I'm bothering him/her at home on a Friday afternoon, or waking him/her up in the morning before my 6:15 departure time? 

In addition, why are they saying I should be prepared with loose change?  I've never had "loose change" in my pocket since I moved here.  There are only two coins* that I've seen and neither of them are useful for buying anything.  This tells me the sign has been here since the days of loose change in Vietnam.  That had to have been a while ago...

*The dreaded 5000 and 2000 Dong coins.  Whenever I receive one, I feel like the giver is just saying "F You" without having to actually say the words out loud.   The few that I have sit in a pile in my bureau collecting dust.


Shout-out to Maria.  Thanks for reading and showing this to other people.  I appreciate it.  Maybe someday we'll meet.  Today's song is for you.  Pay special attention to how much shorter he is than every video girl.  If he is on screen with a girl they are always shooting him at extreme close-up or from a low angle to make him look taller.   Also, when has a rapper ever played air keyboard in a video?  Learn to dance, Pitbull....

I also enjoy that when the camera is on his face for more than a second, they cut off his head because he's bald.  Bald guys are not generally regarded as international lovers.

See?  Not Bald:

So Far I Have Not Found The Science

A photo essay:

I couldn't make out the OSHA safety label on the stool from this distance, but I'm certain it was there.  This level of danger seems excessive for a circline fluorescent.  Am I the only one that thinks that?  Yes?  Okay...

At least one country gets the title in the ballpark....

I imagine this has led to at least one awkward encounter

I think it's perfectly acceptable to use an unexpired credit card as a luggage tag.  What?

We had to overcome some minor logistical details to get grandma and her motorized scooter down the boat ramp, but we managed.  Just be careful which end you step on and you'll be fine.  That wood was inspected and is rated for at least 215lbs.  All Aboard!

Straight to Hell

On Saturday Reyna and I went out for a date.  We went to The Deck, a fancy restaurant in our neighborhood.  We had a reservation to sit outside on the river, which is the best spot for a romantic dinner. In order to get to our table, we had to walk through the entire restaurant, including a table containing a family.  At the family table they had an enormous set of binoculars sitting on a tripod next to their table.  Ostensibly the binoculars were so the four children, who appeared to all be under under the age of five, could look at the passing ships out on the river.  The binoculars, however, were set at adult height, not kid height*.  Not to mention that it was already dark, our reservations being at 8pm.  Strange.

*Did I feel compelled to kick it over when we walked by?  Yes I did...  I'm not sure what that says about me**, but it's the truth.
**I know exactly what it says about me.  It says, "there are 50,000 other places to get your binoculars out and watch ships pass in this city, perhaps you could take your brood to one of those"***
***That could be the meanest thing I've ever written here.

Once we sat down, I found myself facing the family table.  Watching the parents interact with the kids got me to wondering why a parent would ever bring a little kid to a place like The Deck.  How do those conversations go?

Mom [to her 4 year old son]:  Okay sweetie, would you rather have the Char Grilled Lamb Fillet Kushiyaki or the Pan Seared Seabass with Balsamic Teriyaki sauce?  The Caramalized Salmon Infused with Galangal sounds good too doesn't it?
Child [Plays with action figures and babbles incoherently]
Mom:  Maybe for starters you can get the Roast Duck Watermelon Cashew Salad!  I was thinking maybe we could split the Seared Tuna Nori Rolls and the side of Bok Choi with Shitake Mushrooms in Oyster Sauce.  I know you like the Coriander Ginger Prawn with Sweet Thai Chilli Sauce here, so we'll get that too.  Would that be alright?  Maybe for dessert we can have the Trio Creme Brulee... I just love that Earl Grey Creme Brulee, don't you??

GAAAAAAH!

It's a fair assumption that this exchange happened three more times before we arrived.

Why not take advantage of the fact that kids enjoy eating Spaghetti-O's*, grilled cheese and PB&J?  Isn't food one semi-inexpensive thing about having a kid?  Consider the fact that two meals for an adult, plus a couple hours of baby sitting probably cost about the same (or possibly less!) than an evening out with the children at a $30 a plate restaurant.  Plus it comes with the added benefit of not receiving dirty looks and incredulous stares from other patrons who are out trying to have a quiet (read: special) evening.  The whole thing brings up even deeper questions such as:  if you can afford to buy a meal for a family of 6 at The Deck, then you can afford to have a live in Nanny who cooks and watches the kids while you go out and have a romantic Saturday dinner.  Was it her night off?  I don't have a problem with acclimating your child to the finer things in life, but perhaps do it on a Wednesday?

*Is it just me or do Spaghetti-O's smell just like vomit?  Just me?  Let's move on...

On Tuesday night I had dinner at site with my coworkers.  One of my coworkers recently got married, and his now-wife comes to Vung Tau to spend time with him.  This means she comes to dinner.  I have no problem with this, she is a friendly person.  What was odd was that she ordered steak, and when it came, my coworker took the plate and cut her steak up for her.  Is she six?  Can she not be trusted to handle a steak knife without opening an artery?  If a grown woman can't cut her own steak, then perhaps she shouldn't be ordering it.  I half expected to see him chew it for her and then regurgitate it into her mouth like a baby bird.

Yes, I am perfectly aware that this is originally a Clash song.  Doesn't mean I can't like this version. 

Rollin' and Tumblin' on Satan's Rotisserie

It's not that the TatVeg hasn't been writing.  He just hasn't been writing here.  I've been getting up early to write in a journal at the kitchen table like a damn hipster for the last month.  There is very little in this world that will make you feel more like a teenage girl than keeping a journal.  But that's exactly what I've been doing.  All I need is a heart-shaped key that I wear in a locket around my neck that I use to unlock a brass clasp on my diary and the transformation would be complete. Part of my idiotic ramblings have been pathetic attempts to write fiction.  The other part has been bitching about work in ways that I can't do in a public forum such as this.  But things have happened!  So I'll sit in this haze of gasoline fumes and tell you about them.  Why are you sitting in a haze of gasoline fumes you ask?  Because the cleaning lady in our office is using it to remove spots from the glass beside my desk.  I guess she's unfamiliar with Windex....

The Time I Almost Died:  Two weeks ago we had a new driver taking us from the ferry terminal in Vung Tao to the site office.  I was riding with a coworker in the backseat of the car.  He was sitting behind the driver and I was sitting behind the passenger seat.  As I've mentioned once or twice traffic here is chaotic, but chaotic in a way that is generally predictable.  Plus after more than 18 months of fighting it every day, my nerves have been hardened from the hundreds of close calls I see and experience every week.  As we turned onto a new road, the driver, my coworker and me, were greeted by a small box truck passing a dump truck on a two lane road.  So the small box truck was coming towards us in the same lane.  This is not unusual behavior for trucks here.  The problem was that the box truck wasn't making much progress in its endeavor to pass the dump truck.  We slowed down as the distance between the box truck and us decreased.  Soon we were stopped in the road as the box truck flashed its lights and honked at us, still unable to overtake the dump truck.  My coworker began to inch closer towards me, so that he would at least be on the non-direct-impact side of the vehicle.  He was almost in my lap when the box truck was finally able to overtake the dump truck and swerve back into the correct lane.  The truck missed our immobile car by less than a six inches and was travelling at least 70km and hour.  Our vehicle shook in the air currents created by the passing car.  We all removed our hearts from our throats, reswallowed our breakfasts and continued on our way.

The Time I Was Lucky To Not Die From Exposure:  The following weekend I participated in a charity bicycle ride from my house to Ho Tram, a 130km distance.  I did it for the kids.  We have to think about them.  Anyway, I was having a fine time riding with a group of friendly riders.  We'd covered about 60km of the ride when I got a flat tire.  I shouted to the group, but I guess no one could hear me over the wind in their ears and lively banter because they sped off into the distance and out of sight.  I stood alone and grumbling on the side of the road and changed the tube.  As I worked with a curious Vietnamese man watching my every move* I considered getting in a taxi and going home.  The thought of doing the second half of the ride alone was not appealing.  Plus it was hot. Like incredibly hot.  It's funny how you don't particularly notice the heat when you're moving on a bicycle, but the moment you stop, the sweat starts pouring.  I had just about decided to pack my bike into a taxi and head home in air conditioned comfort when I remembered that my wallet, along with $300 or so, ID and credit cards was bouncing in the back of a support vehicle somewhere on the road to the final destination.  With the tire fixed, I remounted my bicycle and slogged onward.  It's a lot harder to ride quickly when you are alone.  There's no one around to talk with and help you forget about the suffering your legs are enduring.  This does not happen when you ride alone.  If you are suffering you simply conduct an internal Socratic dialogue between your rational mind and your suffering body.  I was ensconced in this dialogue while passing through Ba Ria, about 30km from my destination when I heard a pop from my rear wheel.  I slowed to a stop and prayed I hadn't punctured again, as I only had brought one spare tube and one spare CO2 canister for my pump.  The tire didn't appear to be deflating.  I thanked a nameless, faceless deity and continued my journey.  But as I pressed onward, I noticed the bike was growing increasingly difficult to control.  The back end seemed to be fishtailing, which is a tell-tale sign of a flat.  The tire wasn't flat, but it was slowly, painstakingly deflating and I was powerless to stop it.  The sun was climbing ever higher in the sky and temperatures threatened to cross 100 degrees.  I slowed my roll down to under 20km/hr to keep the bike under control.  At 5km to go I couldn't go any faster than 15km/hr.  With 3km to go I decided I had to walk.  I walked about 100m until two guys on mountain bikes approached me from behind.  One of them had a pump, but Murphy's Law of Bike Pumps states, "Whenever you are desperate for a pump and someone appears with one, it will be for the wrong valve type."  His pump was type Schraeder, and therefore useless for me.  He was nice enough to pedal and chat with me as I wrestled my bike over the last 3km.   The tire finally gave out about 200m from the end of the ride and I walked the bike the rest of the way.  I was lucky. The ride destination is in the boonies, far from help and on a road that has very little traffic.  I had about two swallows of water left in my bottles when I arrived.

*He was downright amazed that I had everything with me to fix the problem.  He was especially enthralled with my pump which is is smaller than my thumb.

Things You Can't Unsee:  Many evenings spent in Vung Tao go like this:

1. Arrive at hotel, change clothes.
2. Meet in hotel parking lot for dinner
3. Go to dinner
4. TatVeg returns to the hotel to sleep while "single" coworkers go out to girly bars for "drinks."

#4 happened recently and I left my coworkers on the curb outside the restaurant and took a taxi alone back to the hotel.  When I got in the car the next morning I found my Coworker in a giggly mood.  As we bounced along in the car he whipped out his phone and showed me a series of photos that went something like this  (bear in mind that I am viewing only minutes after finishing breakfast at seven in the morning.):

1. Our 64-year old colleague being attacked by girls who appear to be less than one third his age.  He is smiling and mugging for the camera
2. 64-YOC stands rooted in the same spot, only this time with no shirt on.  #Swaggy*
3. 64-YOC stands rooted in the same spot, only this time wearing only boxer briefs.  Navy Blue if you must know.  (It's seared into my brain....)
4. 64-YOC stands rooted in the same spot completely naked.  The butt cheeks, my friend, are blowing in the wind.  At this point his facial expression could be described as "the drunk version of the 1000-yard stare."
5. 64-YOC, still naked with his saggy ass in plain view of the camera motorboating a young lady seated on the bar while a crowd of cheering people observe.  The Horror, The Horror

* That's me being all hip and Twitter-riffic even though I haven't tweeted in months** and have never used a hashtag.

**Thanks for not following me... jerks

When I regained the ability to speak I said, "I guess he better be nice to you from now on."  My coworker turned to me and got very serious.  We then had the following exchange.

Him:  "Yeah, I already told him we are getting separate tabs at the bar from now on"

Me: "Why is that?"

Him:  "Because our tab was eighteen million* and he only had four million with him.  I had to pay for the rest."

Me:  "And you guys wonder why I never come out with you....  I think I might actually die if I ran up a $900 bar tab in Vietnam"

*VND 18,000,000 = US$900.  I can't actually explain to you how it is possible to have a $900 bar tab in Vietnam.  To lend a little perspective on that amount of money consider the following. On my birthday in 2011, we bought drinks and snacks for a dozen people all night and our tab was VND3,000,000, or $150.  Our tab included at least 20 glasses of wine, dozens of cocktails and more than 30 beers, plus pizza and other munchies for all.  This was three guys in one evening.  It would be incredible if it wasn't so awful.

Death by Fried Rice:  There are only three places to eat near the site where I work every week: a beach restaurant (known as The Beach), Sanctuary, and a local resort called Ven Ven.  I normally vote to go to Sanctuary even though it is three times more expensive than the other two places simply because there is only so much rice and morning glory one TatVeg can consume in any given week.  Recently, however, I discovered that Ven Ven has some mighty tasty Garlic Fried Rice, so it is back on the green light list for site lunching.  The first time I ordered the GFR it came on a tiny plate.  It was like a side order of rice, not enough for a meal.  So yesterday when we went back I asked for two orders of GFR.  A plate came with a portion of rice that appeared to be double the size of what I'd gotten on the previous visit.  The TatVeg was pleased.  Then, to my surprise, another equally large plate of GFR arrived at our table.  Now instead of twice the original portion, I had been given four times what I actually required.  I did my best, but could only eat about 1-1/4 plates of GFR.  The rest went in the trash I'm sorry to say.  Now I have no idea what to order next time... 

Capturing A Unicorn:

You'll have to enlarge the photo to see it, but sitting on the dash of that car is the long sought Hennessey Cannon.  You thought I forgot didn't you?  And yes, I was driving the motorbike when I snapped the photo.

And the same week I managed to capture the long sought after Pineapple Air Freshener.  Can you see it?  It's right there in the little triangle window above the air conditioning vent.  This one had lost most of it's pineappl-i-ness from sitting in the sun all the time I'm sorry to report.