Monday, December 6, 2010

Andrew and the journey to the centre of filth and human indecency

Bali. Enough said.
A filthy, wretched place full of disgusting people and horrible, horrible weather. For me, especially terrible for the wretched, groin grabbing thief that stole my wallet. But this time, I'll tell a more personal story. Something I haven't told to anyone before, about my hatred for Bali. Let me indulge everyone in the story of how my pride was crushed unknowingly by a friend.
After I got my wallet stolen by a groin grabbing, 40 year old scooter riding cuntox fuckarse, I had to report it. Sigh. I knew that reporting it was going to be a laugh at the very least. An expensive laugh. But it had to be done, for insurance purposes (which turned out to be useless anyway).
Myself, and a good friend went and took a taxi to get my ordeal written down by an officer. The hotel organized for a taxi to be stopped when available, and we could just jump right in, which was quite convenient.
We told the driver we needed to go to the police station, and off we went. It was beautiful ignoring the prostitutes, sellers and money merchants by taxi. A welcome relief, because I wasn't particularly in the mood to buy a shitty knock-off handbag or a hand job from a 54 year old obese Balanise woman.
We arrived at the Bali police dating clinic (you'll see) and unconfidently entered. Inside, we were served and asked to fill out a single form about the incident. Across from us, two Aussie girls were reporting a stolen I-phone. Having a more relaxed approach to woman's looks, I took notice to them, but my fellow com-padre didn't.
I spent more time listening to their story. They had their phones stolen when they decided to get their bikini line waxed. I overheard this and gave them a 'you're an oddball' look, which made them laugh. 'Yes' I thought. 'I've embarrassed them. they feel stupid. I'm on top'. One of the police officers took notice of my (very, very inexperienced/uncoordinated) hitting-on techniques.
'You like these girls, yes?' he asked. They overheard, and their attention was drawn. I replied, in as cool as possible and casual, 'yeah, I am'. He then said something like 'Oh, you like those girls' (loudly and fucking incomprehensibly stupid, like most Balanise) hoping to draw their attention. Still thinking I was on top, I didn't look away. I looked directly at them. I was the alpha male here, and you just got robbed my a bikini waxer. They noticed, and giggled. I'm on top. Then the first stab.
'Please, don't insult us'. I could feel the blood rushing to my head, heating my whole face. I was turning red. Any confidence I had was destroyed. No longer the smooth operator, I was the overweight man robbed my an over-expressive elderly woman. Thinking they were interested in me was an insult to their very nature. Figures.
After quickly leaving the area of the police building after paying an 'administration fee' and a 'lick my fallopian' fee, we bailed to try and find the nearest McDonald's. This was when the second stab was made.
My mate then told me that those girls, who so willingly turned me down, were trying to hook up with him at the bounty earlier that week, but he turned them away because he thought they were yuck. All that was my self-love left me that day. My goals were my friend's scraps. I felt lower than I've ever felt.
Interesting side note, it was 10mins later I was a rat surrounded in garbage have shit licked off it by a feral dog, the definition of Bali. Bali is the worst place humanity has conceived. The only thing that saved the trip was the people I shared it with, and 26000rp long neck Bintang in mini marts.


I'm a solid under-achiever. I have been for as long as I remember. Only now I am not comfortable with it, but in the early stages of my life, I could under-achieve more than Danny Green. In school, I spent most of my days fucking about, socializing. Nice one. I'm now king awesome.
Today, I beat myself blue over my shortcomings. It's all come down to maturity and responsibility. I'm never on top of things, I postpone too often, I fuck up too much. I have this constant need for acceptance and positive re-enforcement because of this. I need to know if I'm sharpening a pencil correctly. I get nervous if someone watches me work, hoping I'm doing the right thing. It makes me wonder if anyone really feels responsible.
I look at my close friends and can see them far more mature than me. They have relationships, bills to pay, housework to do, bodies to maintain. I idolize them for how they go about things with grace, even controlling their stress appropriately. Juggling work and study is enough pain, without having to put up with my shit, even squeezing in enough time for a lunch date on breaks. They also invest a lot of time into me.
One of the girls I speak of agreed to help me lose weight. She monitored my weight, kept a book, advised me everyday, encouraged me, praised me, touched my sweaty torso to measure me; all done from sheer generosity and love. In return I've complained then given up. Not sure if that is an effort from irresponsibility or immaturity, but I sure as hell feel like a shithead.
I can tell as I'm writing this, it's not my usual style. I'm not writing this with such a reflective humor. I'm writing this because today I was told to get my finger out. After 2 years at my place of work, and another 16 months doing the same job, I've been told I'm a shithouse store man and need to pull my finger out. After 21 years of life and experience, I'm still not yet able to work properly. When I'm surrounded with friends that work so well, so hard and organize themselves for the future so well, I feel like the weakest link of a chain, a failure of my generation, a joke.
Nothing has changed.