Heathens Highway

I have no idea what kind of fish this is, but it was our lunch and it was pretty freakin’ nasty.

It wasn’t as bad as the snake blood we drank or the dog we ate, but it was right up there. In fact, if I could have chased this down with snake blood, it would have made my day.

I think maybe it would not have been so bad if I did not have to look at it just sitting there. Serve it to me ready to eat for Christ sake!!! Nobody wants to look at this shit before they eat it. Clean it up and present it in a manner that gives just a small illusion that it is edible.

How do you eat it? You rip off some of the fish, get some greens and some of the other shit on the table, and roll them up in wet rice paper, making some sort of chewy, fishy Mekong river taco.

We spent the day wearing rice hats (like the one you see here) and boating around the Mekong river. I actually took this photo from the back of the boat.

Many of you know of this river from the Vietnam War and war movies like Apocalypse Now.

From what we were told, the area we were in saw a lot of fighting between the US Navy and Viet Cong Guerrillas.

I sure as shit would not have wanted to fight here as you can not see anything on the banks, and the water is brown so you can not see what is 1 inche in the water. Talk about being a sitting duck. You are totally blind on all sides. Scary stuff.

There are really no words to describe just how thick the jungle is here. I am not exaggerating when I saw that like the water, you can’t see a single inch into it. This is something I’ve never given real thought to until today.

Yesterday, the heat index it was 119 degrees. For normal guys like you and me, that is fucking hot.

Seriously, it’s not even funny how hot it was, but I’m going to make a few bad jokes about it anyway.

One could say that the heat burns worse than a bad case of gonorrhea.

Or that it is hotter than a set of rims and a Nelly concert.

Others may say that you could fry an egg on the sidewalk or simply that it is a scorcher.

I prefer “hot as hell.” This would be the most accurate of them all.

Only in Vietnam can you eat a dog and a snake in the same day.

Against our better judgment, we stopped at snake restaurant (yes, they have those here) to buy a snake, kill it, and drink its blood for power. Or something like that.

The crazy looking Vietnamese man who owned the joint took us to the back and let us choose the snake. Of course if we’re going to do this, we’re going big, so we pointed to the biggest looking fucker they had. He said our choice was a poisonous snake, but fuck if I know. When your drinking snake blood, a snake is a snake.

All I can really say about what happened here is that it’s all fun and games until you almost vomit and snake blood literally shoots out of your nose as you gag. It’s not a pleasant experience, trust me on this one.

The blue pill looking thing you see in one of the photos below is the snake’s gall bladder. Yea, really. The person who pays for the snake is the lucky fuck who gets to eat it. Sometimes it sucks ass being the boss. And while you don’t actually chew the gal bladder, you just swallow it with a drink of blood. Then you can take the rest of the snake home to skin and eat the meat.

I passed on the gall bladder and gave the meat to my Vietnamese friend. I gotta draw the line somewhere. We were only here for the snake blood, and that’s as far as either one of us are willing to go today.

What does it taste like? Well, they mix the snake blood with rice wine so it has a little bit of an alcohol taste, but make no mistake about it, you clearly taste the blood. Ever have your nose busted and had the blood pour down your throat? Remember that taste? It’s like that, plus rice wine, plus snake funk, with just a hint of good old fashioned Vietnamese communism.

There are more photos of this, but Bin took them and his camera was stolen a few hours later. Yea, really. I just snapped these on my camera. Now I’m wishing I had shot them all.

If you have ever been to Thailand, one of the first things you will notice (besides the awful stench blowing out of the street drains) is the insane amount of stray dogs running around. There are too many to count.

Some dogs will even walk right out into traffic and lay down in the middle of the street. Many of them won’t even get up when the horns honk at them. These are suicidal dogs. Until I came to Thailand, I had no idea dogs actually wanted to die and made attempts to do so.

Stray dogs are everywhere in Thailand. Foreigners usually call them “soi dogs.” In Vietnam, they are called “food.”

In the short amount of time I’ve been in Vietnam, I’ve yet to see a single stray dog. Not one.

Bootleg Bin and I are in Vietnam. Hell yea!

The local money is called Dong. Really.

We landed in Saigon (now called Ho Chi Mihn City) and right out of the gate we got fucked up on our entry as we were missing a stamp on our Vietnam visas. We ended up in a pale green office with bad overhead lighting, explaining that it was an honest mistake on behalf of the Vietnamese Embassy in Bangkok. I thought maybe they were trying to scam us for a few extra dollars, and maybe they did, but it was only a few bucks and they let us go.

First, let me tell you one thing about the language here… forget it. I am pretty quick to pick up on basic language from just about anywhere but here, I’m totally lost. I can say “hello” and “thank you.” That’s it.

As with any city, any area that deals with tourists usually has a decent grasp of English, but if we venture off the beaten path here, this may be difficult unless it all starts making sense to me.

Being the international whore monger that I am, the seedy part of Saigon was whispering my name, so we sent off in search of some Vietnamese women who wanted to take our dong. See what I did there?

We found out that they’ll also take our dollars, and we had plenty, so our Dong was a waste. It took a little while to track down some quality tail, but we did and it was only $60 US Dollars for some grade-a, 18 year old, Vietnamese poontang. I’d also like to note that their pussy was not lined with razor blades.

I will discuss the intimate details of this poontang later. Right now I want to talk about how clean this city is. It’s incredibly clean. Parts of Saigon are very hip.

It has a vibe to it, rather than a bunch of people fighting to survive. While I’m sure that ugliness is right around the corner somewhere, I haven’t seen it yet.

Vietnam wants your dong and she wants it bad.

I will also add that the quality of gifts and shopping here is way better than most of Thailand’s poor grade tourist crap and copied garbage. There is some serious shopping here, way more than I expected. “You buy now!”

Before I go, I want to comment on the name of the city. It’s weak. “Saigon” is such a kick ass name. “Ho Chi Mihn City” is a second rate name. There is something going on in South East Asia where everyone is changing the best names, like Siam, Burma, and Saigon. All bad ass names. Now they are Thailand, Myanmar, and Ho Chi Mihn City. I’m sure there are many others who dropped the name ball, but those are the ones that come to mind right this second.

I got an e-mail today from a hot black model I used to date, and all it said was this:

“can i borrow some sperm?”

What to do?

Team America… Fuck ya!

I have a friend who just happens to know the cats who made the puppets for Team America. So while we were out for lunch, we stopped by and low and behold, there hung the Team America puppets. Very cool.

Without hesitation we went for the females and molested them, taking these pics along the way. This is all I’ll show of the molestation unless there is interest to see naked puppet bodies. But then I’d wonder about what kind of a sick fuck would want to watch us molest puppets. That could make things funny between us so lets just leave it here.

We played with these things for hours, recreating scenes from the movie and laughing until we cried, pissed, and then cried some more.

Enjoy the pics.

11:12am – Someone starts banging at my door at the crack hotel I’m staying in. Since I did not go to sleep until 7am, there had better be news of death or world destruction when I open it.

I was close, it was the Indian that was put on this earth to make my life in LA a living hell.

This twinkle toed cock sucker tells me that my “time is up” and that I needed to “take a break” and come back tomorrow. When he first told me this was going to happen 6 days ago I thought he was joking just to get a rise out of me. It turns out he was a serious as a case of dick cancer.

So I’m standing butt ass naked in the doorway of this shitty place trying to explain to this odd looking person that it is a motel and that motels make money by filling them to capacity as often as they can. Since I was literally the only person staying in the hotel for the past few days, I then went into detail explaining to him how poorly they conducted business.

It all fell of deaf ears because second I was done speaking, he told me to give him the key and he would see me tomorrow.

I laughed and tried to explain to him that once I leave and check into another place, I will not be returning. His reply was “very well, I will see you tomorrow then” and then walked of with the key.

After watching him wobble away, I packed up, left, and moved to another crack hotel down the street which is also operated by Indians. Just all part of the cosmic joke I guess. If they start with me, I will shit all over the room and move to the Extended Stay 20 minutes away.

Right about now you are wondering, “why in the fuck is he staying in crack motels?”

The answer is simple. I can sleep anywhere, and these crack motels just happen to be a one minute drive from our office. To stay in a nicer place, I would have to drive 20 minutes, which is not a big deal in the afternoon, but after you’ve been working all day and night, the last thing I want to do is drive any distance at 5am as I’m falling asleep. If I only use the room to shit, shower, shave, and sleep, it serves it purpose. But the Indians have to go.

The good news is, I believe a Motel 8 is being built just around the corner. I’m looking forward to staying there.

Hell is… trying to get a full eight hours sleep in an Indian owned crack motel.