Ah, another Doper in Thailand I see.
I guess I crossed a line there – don’t know what I was thinking. Nah, playing music is work for me – it takes concentration. I’d much rather eat some bitch out and jerk off into her snapper.
Maybe I should move to Thailand, find mes semblables jerker-offers and bitch-eater-outers. Maybe a good game of Russian roulette to gamble on when the day gets long. “Don’t do it, Nicky!”
ETA, don’t call me macho,. WordMan – you haven’t earned that right!
ETA Chefguy – first laugh of the day. Thanks!
Your ideas intrigue me, and I would like to subscribe to your newsletter.
I post here.
But in Thailand, you can’t be real sure if she used to be a he or not, and that probably doesn’t help on the stress level, now, can it? 
ETA: not that I care what people do in private nor to their privates.
Walk. Listen to music. Swim. Kill internet dragons. If I’m really honked off, though, I nap.
Good point, but I learned most of my salty French slang from the transvestite prostitutes who hung out on my block every night. Once they found out I wasn’t interested, they were so generous and nice with helping my language out. Nice people. Sorry, random teenage kids who asked me where the whores were at and were disappointed when I pointed them to my "friends.: “That…that’s a man!” “Yeah, no shit, if you want a chick, walk a few blocks over, Steinberg.”