Thai Thoughts and Anecdotes Part 333
Hello Stickmanites and Dana fans: today number three in the Dana Quote Contest (DQC).
DQC3: "Personally I found hairy pubed shotgun wielding raven haired beauties with Mickey Mouse quilted long underwear a turn on. If you have never piled into a woman with a hot body and a cold nose who is still wearing snowshoes you
have not done everything yet."
You know what you have to do and you have to do it fast and as a reminder: all procedures, policies, paperwork, and prizes will go through Dana Enterprises. Do not contact Stickman. He's too busy making bank runs, doing deals. and entertaining
powerful people. I'm the one who loves you. It's always been me. No prizes awarded to members of the Dana Fan Club. They have an unfair advantage. And no, we have already received this question; you can not sleep with me to win the prize.
Sweet Jesus On A Cracker.
and now today's story . . . it's about a contest also. One submission, two contests; get wired.
LATIN AND DANA CONTEST
The original house had been a one story crackerbox built on the top of the cliff overlooking Lake Superior. Lake Superior is more like an ocean than a lake and looking north towards Canada the views were fantastic. My new Thai wife loved
it. But also fantastic was the winter wind coming down out of Canada five months of the year. Blew right through the house. Every year I would have to order two hundred and forty bales of hay and pile them up against the north side of the house
to break the wind and save on fuel bills. My Essan wife swaddled in clothes and gloves and hat against the weak northern light of upper Michigan learned to heave, and lever, and punch, and drag, and push, and lift bales of hay. She giggled with
laughter: "American grass good–no snakes." My chest nearly burst from happiness.
Summers were great though, especially the beach parties. Winter's blowy cold forgotten, everyone would conga line out of the back door with backpacks and smiles before descending the three hundred feet to the beach of bleached driftwood
and clean sand. Old jungle safari movies with hundreds of load carrying African natives had nothing on us. We picnicked in style with tables and chairs and . . . ever do a beach party with furniture the way rich people do? Try it. Anyway . . .
When my wife Sookie and I had been married four years (three children) I bulldozed the crackerbox and built a new larger home further down the slope. No more winter wind from Canada crashing into the house, and no more piling up bales of
hay with my Essan angel. Much better. Now the beach party conga line of summer bonfire revelers would have to climb up before they could stumble down. Small price.
Our last beach party included twelve people plus Rufus the wonder dog. Myself and my wife plus our three children Lookie, Dookie, and Rookie. When we were discussing having children my wife (Sookie) and I decided that I would name the boys
with American names, and she could name the daughters with Thai names. She then proceeded to make nothing but girls. So I live with Sookie, Lookie, Dookie, and Rookie. No wonder monkeys in zoos jack off. Sometimes life can just get to you. The
other six people at the party were Homer, Melville, Beckett, Yeats, Shaw, and Pound (a charity invitation). Oh, and I almost forgot: Sookie's visiting sister was also there (god, what a body). Her name is Nookie. Yup, you heard right: Sookie,
Lookie, Dookie, Rookie, and Nookie. Remember the jacking off monkeys? Welcome to my life.
Anyway, after all the tables and chairs had been set up, the kids rounded up and yelled at, marshmallow sticks cut and whittled, bonfire stamped down into glowing coals, and cooking started: the six writers would start in with questions for
me. Homer, and Melville, and Beckett, and Yeats, and Shaw, and Pound wanted to know:
1. Am I gifted or am I just brilliant?
2. Where do I get my plot and character ideas?
3. Am I able to mix with normal people?
4. Etc.
While my wife and her sister were making hot dogs, and burgers, and s'mores, and marshmallows-on-a-stick, and baked corn on the cob; I would tell the visiting gentlemen of the pen the secrets to writing soul stirring, hair raising, chiselled
in quartz, brilliantine stories about Thailand. Most especially, I would reveal to them a writer's secret so special that it had to be whispered to each one individually. That secret to writing great Thai-farang stories and essays was . .
.
But that is not really what I want to talk about today. What I really want to talk about today is another Dana contest aka Latin and Dana. That's right Dana fans: get ready to rub your farang legs together like a cricket on yaa baa,
another Dana contest is being announced. Call me crazy but I take this as proof that there is a God. From what other source could so much love come? Exactly.
Anyway, the contest name is Latin and Dana Contest. Probably a good idea to get your yellow legal pad and Essan buffalo horn quill pen for note taking. Anyway, this is how it works: send in a Latin word, or a Latin phrase, or a Latin sentence,
or a Latin saying that best exemplifies what Dana means to you and get ready to count your cash. You could be a Latin and Dana Contest winner. I know . . . I know what you are thinking. Kinda takes your breath away, doesn't it? Latin snobbism,
useless public intellectual posturing, competition, Dana, and prizes. Just call me a jacking off monkey.
Obviously, this contest is only open to smart people. That should weed out serial contest entrants of the soccer loving kind, people just making up Latin stuff that makes no sense, and teeruks who think 'et al' should be spelled
'et ar'. Standard International contest rules will apply. Presentations of contest winners will be in a short time room at the Windmill Bar on Soi Diamond off Walking Street in South Pattaya. If you are not familiar with the Windmill
Bar here are a few hints. Leave your Bible, and your mother, and your girlfriend, and your wife, and your underpants at home. And forget about who you are, and what you are going to do with your life, blah blah blah. Once you enter the Windmill
Bar you are officially in We Don't Give A Shit territory. You are going to break laws in public and you are going to be very very happy.
All contest winners will be wearing togas. I will be wearing a pink silk suit with pink alligator shoes, and all the girls will be naked and hiding your $100 prize Dana bills. Hiding? That's right. Gosh, I wonder where they could be
hiding the bills? Now we kill the lights. Party time.
Examples of Latin that are constantly being shouted out at the office here at Latin and Dana Contest headquarters that exemplify the Dana experience are:
1. Amicule, deliciae, num is sum qui mentiar tibi? (Baby, sweet heart, would I lie to you?)
2. Ascendo tuum (up yours) — ok, I can take a joke but this is very handy when chatting with Latin speaking trannies on the boardwalk.
3. non compus mentis (not of sound mind)
4. quod me nutrit me destruit (What nourishes me also destroys me.) — yes, but I'll fight the man who tries to take my Viagra away.
5. Merda taurorum animas conturbit (Bullshit baffles brains) — ok, once again I can take a joke; but consider who I am talking to.
6. Non Gradus Anus Rodentum (Not worth a rat's ass)
7. Estne volumen in toga, an solum tibi libet me videre? (Is that a scroll in your toga, or are you just glad to see me?). I get this a lot from Latin speaking boardwalk cruisers. You knew that.
8. O tempora, O mores! (Oh the times, oh the morals) — smacks of Bible thumpers; forget the morals, just consider the times.
Easy huh? Sure, and fun too. And educational? You bet. We've got 'educational' up the ying yang here at Latin and Dana Contest world headquarters (A.A. Hotel)*. We're so flippin' smart we have figured out how to sell
used reconditioned condoms to moralists. Making a fortune.
* Note: Latin and Dana Contest world headquarters office motto: Cum catapultae proscriptae erunt tum soli proscript cataputs habebunt (When catapults are outlawed, only outlaws will have catapults).
Can you earn bonus points? Yes you can earn bonus points. We honor goal setting, trail breaking, alpha mongers. Send in soi dogs barking in Latin, or mamasans shouting in Latin, or teeruks screaming (or pouting or crying) in Latin and bonus
points can be yours. What do bonus points earn you? Stay tuned.
So enter early and enter often. Be a winner. And remember: nothing pleases like Latin snobbism, useless public intellectual posturing, competition, Dana, and prizes. Just call me a jacking off monkey.
Sincerely yours (Sincereliosum tuum),
Dana
