Tan The Man Cooks Deee-Lish!

Chicken curry, beef curry, chilly, chicken kebab with sate sauce, pasta-something, pita and other breads, salads, cheeses, yummy!

Jonathan's housewarming party. This man can cook wonderfully! Ladies, he's still available! Snatch! Snatch!

He looks a bit angry in this pic, but that's only because he's worried about the wine supplies running low and has to contemplate the long trip down to Wellcome supermarket.

"Ok, so if Tan Tan cooks deee-lish and there was all this food, how come you, Tasha, were still left hungry enough to resort to biting Debra's ass? Huh? Huh?"
Tasha: "Oh, that was just for desert" :-) "Lekker kontje!"

Thank you for a wonderful party, Jonathan!

Hairy Harry On Tasha's Tushie

There's a hairy little guy called Harry and he's taken temporary residence on my tush.

Harry lives on a nice and sterile pad of white gauze and tape that had been attached to the left cheek of my bum by a very cute male nurse, earlier today. The nurse has skilled hands and a very proper British accent. The accent is fake, however. I asked him to feign it in order to give the whole procedure more class and credibility. It's also damn sexy.

The dressing needed to be applied because of this:
Yes, just the kind of photos you would expect of me. I know. I'm appalling.

But, wait! There's more....

The FIVE heroic stitches are there because something had to be taken out of Tasha's Tushie yesterday.

This used to be there:And that now resides in a container in my fridge.

If you wanted to see it live, you had to be at Carnegie's Friday night. Now it's too late. I'm not taking it out to clubs anymore. Or at least not until I find formaldehyde. Which I tried to do this morning, but failed. You wouldn't believe how difficult it is to explain to a Taiwanese pharmacist what is formaldehyde and why I need it.

Juliana doesn't know any of this yet. Hence this note on the fridge: Anyway... Back to Harry and the dashing male nurse with the sexy, fake British accent... I felt sorry for little Harry all alone out there on my bum. So the nurse drew him a home planet. Look how happy little Harry is now:
Don't get too attached to Harry though. He's being replaced by a new bandage tomorrow.

Such a Brave Girl

People think brave is when you jump out of an airplane or when you get yourself into a standoff with a Taipei taxi driver. But I think those things are brave only if you're afraid of doing them. I'm not.

I’m afraid of bugs, dentists and of a lot of ordinary things. Such as sticking to something that’s boring and requires hard work. Or going back to something that you used to be good at but now you’re crap and have to start all over again.

Well, tonight I did something that's really, I mean REALLY brave and hard for me: I finally went BACK TO THE GYM!

After not having been since December. After having gone out of shape and gained weight and flab. Ewwww!

I almost didn't go. I almost talked myself out of it again. All you lazy bastards out there, you know what I'm talking about!

Gym is great. I LOVE going to gym. When I first came to Taiwan, one of the first things I did was join a gym, my second week here. I knew that things would be hard for me in those first few months and that one way to stay mentally in shape would be to have something familiar, a source of strength and discipline. And it was.

BodyCombat by Les Mills is my favorite aerobic exercise. It’s the Stambuck’s of the fitness world. You go anywhere in the world and you get the same class. It’s dictated by the Mighty Les from his throne somewhere in NZ (I use NZ because I can’t spell the whole country and I can’t be bothered to look it up. Sorry, Ant.)

This lady is one of Les' chicks. That's pretty close to what I consider to be the ideal female physique. If only her bee-hynde was slightly more in the J-Lo neighborhood. I, too, want to be featured on Les' poster one day, but I have to hurry up and get into shape, I'm no spring chicken anymore.

I used to go to BodyCombat with Diana in Holland. Our favorite choreography was the one with jabs and jump-kicks to the Survivor theme from Rocky II. We did it everywhere. In bars and restaurants, on the street, in department stores… All it took was for one of us to suddenly think of it and we’d start punching the air to the famous riff: Bam… Bam-bam-bam… Bam-bam-bam… Bam-bam-baaaam!

When I joined the Alexander Gym here in Taipei I started taking the BodyCombat class again and had a huge crush on the instructor for months. But, that's a whole other story.

So, how come I stopped going? Well, I'm inconsistent with everything. I will get bored with things. I lack discipline when it gets tough. So around the time I got a bit lazy about the gym, also Mr. Tash came into my life and I found a really legitimate excuse not to go anymore: I WAS HAVING SEX!!!

Howeverrrr... although the quality of the abovementioned activity was/is as high as they get, I'll have you know... it doesn’t constitute a valid compensation for gym training, two reasons:
A. We aren’t doing it as often as one would like to.
2. I myself ain’t doing all that much hard work during it, anyway. (90% of the time I'm of the “Let the guy do all the hard work School of Sex”.)

But now I'm back. Back among the trendy, glitter sweat-pants wearing Taiwanese girlies who use the treadmill to watch their favorite soap at resistance level ZERO. Life makes sense again.