Desperate times call for desperate men? ( fuck you Conceited Jerk) I was gonna say desperate measurements but Mister Jerk was being a jerk and i could not resist. I like jerks when they are smart and have an abundance of hair.
We are sitting at the Fyxx cafe laughing at everyone (not anyone in the cafe) because we can. Does that make us arrogant and conceited - fuck yeah. It is nasty, bitterly cold out there and yes, it was worth the trip (on public transit) to come down here if only to have a few good yuks. Besides, I needed some lessons on how to properly exploit some programs and who better to ask than an erstwhile geek who is not scared to talk to girls? Women? Space aliens?
Now back to measurements.....normally one would say "desperate measures" but today it is all about the sailboat that gets bigger with each time it is mentioned. I started off at thirty feet ( a respectable size for a solo sailor ) but realized much later that companionship is necessary for two key activities, fucking and drinking.....and not to forget boat maintenance and "negotiating" with stroppy harbour officials (that is my job). This is why the damned boat fantasy grows with each telling....may as well have some fun right?
So each time the weather sucks, like it does today, my boat needs grow by five feet. I am now up to 55 feet.....hopefully the weather get warmer or else I will never achieve my goal of ruling the high seas or better yet getting high on the seas. Well, actually i have gotten high on the seas but that is for another day.
So what point am I making here? None that I can see and I don't give a rat's ass. It is Saturday and I need to impart to you, dear reader, that the brain does not completely shut down in the cold but damn, if I did not have to be typing right here and right now I would be (drumroll please....) at my "office" in Playa Coco, Costa Rica.....yeah my office...wanna see a picture? I knew you did.
This is the view from the famous La Vida Loca bar....Jimbo Jensen, the proprietor, is a colorful character but more about him later. OH I am such a teaser and erstwhile vulgarian but hey, I just started this project and am having some fun. Beats the heck outta the alternative does it not?
GETTING SIDETRACKED.....I have many ways of achieving that state of being, some more creative than others. Today however it was having just enough caffeine racing through my system to get me motivated enough to explore downtown with Mister Jerk who can keep up with my random access train wreck in the making stream of consciousness spew.
We were talking about the panhandlers and how crazy they are when just as we enter one of the low-rent mall areas I get accosted by one....must have been those damned Pradas! He was not happy when I told him to get the hell out of my space. It is always amusing when the same crackhead tries to hit you up for money a half-hour later even after he expressed his love for you - read: FUCK YOU BITCH!!! Man, the crack must be decent in this town. No, I am not gonna find out if that is the case but will trust the sketchiness of the aforementioned crackhead. Mister Jerk was thoroughly amused and congratulated me on my uncanny ability to bring out the best in our more downtrodden citizenry.
Back to my favourite office at Jimbo's bar. Nobody calls you a bitch there but you may get called a cheap, lying bastard!
Yeah, that photo, that was the view from the bar. Wireless net, excellent rum punch and good company. Never got rassed, could laugh and cuss all I liked and not be judged for it and occasionally could walk away without paying because I only lived about two hundred meters away. And if it was night Jimbo would send one of his security guys to make sure I got home okay because I was carrying the craptop. Funny how all the sketchy types like to hang on the beach at night. I never felt intimidated but always good to err on this side of caution rather than have to kick the crap outta some poor crackhead. Heheheh. Maybe. Well.....depends on what I was drinking and how much and whether or not I had talked with the ex that day....hehehe.
Jimbo is a character and he has toughed it out in this town for about ten years. Not that it is hard to run a business in Costa Rica - hell, it is a ticket to print money during the high-season good times but what happens when all the snowbirds and tourists vanish come rainy season? Like any good bar there has to be in spades one key ingredient - PERSONALITY and if that comes with a good dose of abuse, service, humour, tune-age and Sat TV for us football and soccer fans, tasty food and a bathroom that won't make you vomit at first glance? Oh man, you have hit bar heaven. Having a killer view helps too.
Boats? Wasn't I on about boats earlier? Yeah, how thirty feet gets bigger and the cabin a bit more elaborate and the mere thought of salt air hitting your face as you are struggling with that fishing line....ahh, that is life. In reality, it is not the size that matters but rather what one does with it. Same could be said of many things - ego for instance? No matter on that score as mine is fairly intact and unlike some would believe, not growing but maintaining nicely. Maybe that is why I liked Jimbo's as there were some choice boats floating nearby.
One of my dearest friends remarked to me one day how on his tombstone he wants written the phrase "fuck em' if they can't take a joke". I told him that the local cemetery may not dig it but I certainly could. Apt sentiment if there ever was and I do know a lot of jokers, bless their rude little hearts! Hahahaha.
The first time I met Jimbo I think he was "poco crudo" - a neat way in Spanish of saying he was hung over, a little raw.....but man, what an affable character and underneath that crazy exterior lurks a brilliant, if not totally demented, mind. One has to be a bit of everything to survive running a business in a foreign land where one out of every two expats is certifiably insane, an alcoholic, divorced, disillusioned, on the lam or all of the above? Maybe this is why I thrive in these crazy little enclaves because one is always gonna meet someone crazier, stupider and drunker than what I could ever be. The trick to success, once again, is maintaining and not falling into the gringo traps of which many exist.
I had been reading this cool book by Tucker Max, I hope they serve beer in Hell, I believe it is called and as much as he is a total womanizing reprobate the boy can entertain and write like a sumbitch. He has my admiration.
My luggage had to be downsized and one of the nicest things anyone can do in these little places is to leave works of fine literature behind for those who you know will appreciate it. Jimbo, who had sort of expressed a disdain for great literary works of art (more macho posturing on his part as he ain't no dummy) was a little skeptical when I presented him with my dog-eared copy of Max's book. I handed it to him with a big, stupid grin and said Asshole, read the fucking back of it first dude....the testimonials rock.
I saw him start to smile and he randomly opened it up to some bit of debauchery (hell, the whole book is pure debauchery) and started to read out loud to everyone at the bar within ear shot. I knew the book had found the right home. Jimbo finished the book in two days and had already loaned it out to another deserving bachelor. Well, I'll tell you I have never made so many curmudgeons in one locale so happy as I did with that goddamned book. I was at a dinner party a week or so later and Jimbo pointed at me and said to his friend yeah that R****, she gave it to me - great fucking book!
Tucker Max, if you ever get to read this - dude, you cannot buy this sort of literary adoration. Now where is my boat???