I hate the winter and will do just about anything to escape the cold, even if it means risking my life in some third world war zone. Every winter I go on a “paradise quest” which is exactly what it sounds like. “How does she get the means?!”, you’re asking yourself. Well, I have a lot of debt, but I figure the ship’s going down in 2012, so why not. Anyway, now that my finances are out of the way, let’s talk about paradise. The closest I’ve come to paradise is Bali, otherwise known as “Paradise Island”. Here are my photos from the paradisiacal land of feral monkeys, cock fighting and mountain women.
This man was my tour guide. We understood each other on a deep; personal level because we had both murdered our first wives. I paid him $30 a day to take me anywhere I wanted to go.
I wanted to go to a cock-fight.
This is where the Balinese men come to gamble; think of a chaotic Roman arena. The men lift their palms up and gesture wildly to the bookie, who understands if their hands meet with some kind of bill. They go through many roosters and the fights are brief.
Not only was I the only gringo in the stadium that day, I was also the only lady. The men who noticed me didn’t understand how I got into their cock club and looked at me funny.
There was a good amount of side betting too. The man in the middle is wondering how he’s going to explain to his wife that he spent the money he was supposed to use for diapers on cock.
The Balinese really put American tailgating parties to shame. The parking lot was a veritable lou-out.
They definitely travel in style. There are a lot of ways to get around:
All modes of transport lead you to your future bride, being that you’re in paradise and all.
If you play your cards right she will grind on you without abandon.
This point has been contested, but I maintain, that the top reason Bali is considered paradise is because…(drum roll please)… the zebras are free to go down on one another without shame or fear.
And there’s nothing this monkey can do about it.