The flight back was good but not great. Good means the food was ok, the plane was not late, and the fold down seats actually fold flat so you can get some sleep. Some times these seats have a hump in the middle, maybe from being too old eh? Or not made in Canada! Hate that. Great means that somehow you had sex during the flight. Sex is easy in the front cabin because the ladies who can afford first class are almost always married and bored with their husbands. You just pick out the youngest best looking one and go for it. One married womens told me direct like "it is not cheating when you are knocking boots at 30,000!"
When did sex get redefined? Me thinks it was when that loser american president claimed a blow job was not sex. Now all the married womens are looking for loopholes so they can have fun once more. Let me be the first to tell you, a blow job most definitely IS SEX! Let me make it more easiest. If the penis is involved it is sex. If a pussy is involved it is sex. If you orgasm'd, it is sex. If the penis is either stroked, blown, or inserted inside the pussy of a 25 year old hot and toned beauty.. it is GREAT SEX! Even Blackest Bart has off days, my flight was only good.
Yesterday Aha calls me. Aha as you noticed is primitive. So when I say "he calls me" I mean using a mobile phone, and not by sticking his head out the window and bellowing "Blackest Baaarrrtttt…" OR, using semaphore like our buddy Dana does from the balcony of his beach road hotel. Me laughs hard every time I picture Dana on the balcony waving his short arms around and holding up "sex wanted" signs from 50 meters high. I am not sure he realizes that every body sees him up there eh? One time I am walking along and I see every one looking up and their is Dana with his signs and waving his arms. It is so far away that I would not know it is Dana if not for the pink shirt and that he is not tallest enough to see over the hand rail.
This time there is a gaggle of beach road whores watching him and discussing who will go up this time. It sounded something like this "No, lat time nit noy baa farang want me to dress like a shep!" "A shep I ask him, why a sheep?" "He says his favorite New Zealand football team is playing today and he wants to get in the mood!" Another whore speaks up "dis is nuttin. Ones time this baa farang made me dress like a soi dog, lit me on fire, and threw me over a fence! I make him pay 1000 baht for that one"! One of the whores pulls out some cards and says lowist card "wins".. They pick a card each and one very hold hag gets the low card. She looks happy so I ask why. "I ben with the baa farang before" she says slyly. "He did not mind me being hold and did not make me wear a bag on my head like Thai men do. He turn me around and puts me over a chair Kobe style and do me fast". "I never forget how funny he look standing on ten phone books swaying back and forth trying to reach me"!
Aha tells me "Blackest Bart. I have invented a orgasm device. Dana and me are going to sell it in Pattaya and bee rich"! Aha, funny men him. Aha has the biggest "orgasm device" I've ever seen already and more money than he knows what to do with. Why is he working on such a project with Dana? This is a good question so I ask him. "Dana makes me laugh. Have you ever seen him light a dog on fire and throw it over a fence?" Now mens, I have never seen the flaming dog trick, but now that I know it was merely a beach road whore dressed like a dog, and not a real dog, I can maybe find it more funny. Why? Ok, you gots me. I have a soft spot for dogs.
Once in Korea I was starving and had not eaten well for several days. I smelled bbq smell so good, so I sit down and eat alot. I remember saying "I am so hungry I can eat a horse" and the cook he start laughing and say they are not animals, they not eat horse there. Only dogs! Really, dog tastes like chicken. Not KFC chicken, but like baked chicken if instead you stuck a dog in the oven chicken. So you see, I can tell you that dogs have a higher purpose in life than being lit on fire and throw over fences! When I hard that the first time I call PETA and tell them my story. No abuse for dogs I says, better to kill them first and bbq them and did you know they taste like chicken? I think they angry with me so I send them some fois gras as a way of saying sorry. They call me back and tell me about the bird can not live free and is stuffed with foods. Ok I thinks, these are free thinkers so as a favor I send them my Uncle Elmo's recipe for roasted bald eagle pointing out that the eagles get to live free until Uncle Elmo shoots them from the sky with his Mauser. These PETA guys, they really make it hard to get to know them.
This reminds me. One the way back my plane lands at Chiang Kai-shrek (ok ok, Taoyuan since we are being sensitive to the Chinesy). Shrek airport as I calls it is boring as Korski, but it does have these nice electric cars that pick up the front cabin folks. I get in one thinking about the shower and massage service but for some reason it stops at a gate and I follow everyone up into the plane and takes my seat. A few hours later my fine and toned ass finds itself in Beijing! No one here speaks Canadian or French and not knowing what to do I just follow the cute little girl in uniform and they take us by a fancy bus to the Grand Hyatt. Have you ever been there? I have but before it was planned and I had luggage! Now, I just follow the cute girl in uniform and soon I am checked into the diplomatic suite (AMEX BLACK, never leave home without it folks) From up here you can see the Forbidden City, but all I seen before was the Fountain Lounge if you knows what I mean..HAHAHAHAHA
I see my luggage is all set out like it should be, but something smells funny. The clothes is the right size but they are not mine! The underwars are embroadiered with a LA on them. LA I thinks.. whoze drawers are these? Dis guy loves yellow, probably some homo I deduce. Looking some more I am pleased to see at least dis guy uses good French tailor so I think I am going to be ok. I pick up the phone and ask for room service and place an order and almost missed it. "Yes sir Mr. Armstrong!" Armstrong??? No, it can not be. This can not be happening to yours truly Blackest Bart! I pick up the phone again and say "do you know who I am?" "Yes sir Mr. Armstrong, you are Lance Armstrong the French bike champion." I throws down the phone, not only to these Chinesy people have me confused with the one balled juiced american with bad taste in womens, but they think he is French just because he was able to cheat and win the most important sporting event in the entire worlds!!! And he pulled this off 7 times, no doubt with help from the CIA and Dubya! Friends, your Blackest Bart has not only been kidnapped and taken to a communist country, but he has been given a new identity and insulted at the same times!
In times like this I ask myself "would would Piapot do eh"?? And it comes to me this easy. I will have some fun at Mr. One Ball's expense! I call room service and order 1000 pink balloons and a liters of baby oil delivered to Mr. Mikey Phelps room. After all, any body who shaves there body and is more toned than me must be gay and after all, he is amercan so the jokes is on him! A good start, embarrassing two american super pricks. No way I can ever forget Mr. One Balls seven time cheating of the most important sporting event in the world in the worlds second best country!
The next morning I am awakened by someone knocking on the door telling me the car leaves in 15. Me shrugs and gets dressed, I do wonder where I am going. Ok, to be 100% honest Mr. One Balls clothes are very decent. Wait, what is this? I grab it and pull it out of the lining. I do not need no stinkin fake testicle sewn into my slacks thank you very much. When someone ask me "how is it hanging" I can answer in the plural like "my boys are hanging fine thank you very much." Not "my surviving ball is hanging ok, be he is lonely eh?" Soon I am dressed and in the car and I see we are going to the opening ceremonies for the Beijing Olympics! Once we arrive everything happens very fast with security and all and soons I am sitting in seat watching the fireworks. Two rows ahead I see a monkey in a suit. Behind the monkey is a geek in a suit. Wait, this is not a monkey, it only looks like one. How did I get seated so close to GW?
The guy next to me has a bag of peanuts and I ask for some. When no one is looking I throw it at the back of GW's head. It hits, ping, and GW turns and looks around. He looks at everyone and then me and I just shrugs. He goes back to watching so I do it again, ping, and this time he turns around very fast for a mans of his ages. I smile sweetly and shrugs and he turns around. A few minutes later I can not help myself and I do it again, only this time when he turns around I point at the geek. This geek has made my life tough and by now I recognize him. This is the guy who hawks defective operating systems for computers to everyone. Bill Gates. I am having the best time now! I give credit to GW, he could have had a word with his security but noooo, he turns around to Bill Gates and tells him "listen dweeb boy, you do that again and I'll have you put on the no fly list with the next stop Guantanamo!" 'Dweeb boy' does not know what is going on but soon everyone is watching the ceremonies again so this time I throw one at the geeks head. He ignores it so I throw another. He ignores it also, so this time I throw one at his head and one at GW's head and they both turn around at the same time and start going at it. Everyone is looking and to my horror I look at the big screen and some jackass is showing video of me throwing peanuts and starting the entire thing and underneath the words "Lance Armstrongs prank on President Bush and Bill Gates turns into fist fight!"
Oh my, now is a good time to exit while they are still wrestling with each other eh? It looks as if GW is pissed and beating the holy craps out of Dweeb Boy.
I leave the Bird Soup place and jump in a taxi. This is a lot like Bangkok except they don't speak English, or Canadian, or French or even Thai. I am thinking I am truly fucked and then I remember the childs game charades. I hold out my arms and make an airplane sound and twist around a lot and not very fast begins to get the idea. We are soon on the 3rd ring road and then heading down the airport expressway and I breath a sighs of relief. No, more accurately I farted really loud. The driver he then farts too and starts laughing. Comfortable now he is driving with one hand and picking his nose with the other and spitting out the window. My fart was an accident, his fart was like a damn of relief breaking loose and a hole craploads of disgusting things to follow. He takes his booger finger out from his nose long enough to use it to hand me a pen and his hat and say "Lance Armstrong famous man sign please", and this is when I notice the small LCD screen on his dash and realize he was watching the entire thing!
Well folks, that was a few days ago and I finally made it back to Thailand. I had to pretend to be Lance Armstrong until somewhere inside Narita's main terminal where I changed from his clothes into some Japanese hip hop threadz I bought from a gift shop for the fashion impaired. I really looked like a dork but I was me again. No wait, not really me. More like Jimmy if you know what I mean eh? HAHAHAHAHAHA.
Its ok, for sure I am happy to be back to Thailand. This is a short one because after a few days of catching up with Aha and hunting married womens I am in the old airport waiting for a flight to Phuket. I miss my home on the cliff and my big
Published because the readership berate me when I try to kill off these two. Don't say I am not democratic…