The Ho Chi Minh beer trail

[TheDrunkardAnglo]

Day 1

We take off heading for Doha. Its the holy month of Ramadan. We're expecting a dry flight as a result. Thankfully they serve us a few Stella Artois. They keep us hydrated.

I've got a bit of a cold. They seem to fly at higher altitudes when going to Qatar, I'm not sure if this is a weather thing or attempts to avoid any rogue projectiles while flying over Iraq or Kuwait, but it really fucked with my ears.

Landing into Doha we walk through the airport and smoke some cigars in the smoking area. Everything is pretty expensive,  sheikhs showing off. We then catch our connecting flight to Saigon.

They keep us further lubricated. I sleep, watch Casablanca and then Citizen Kane. We arrive into Vietnam. As we get off the plane, get through passport control and exit the airport we're instantly hit by the humidity. We're met by this little Vietnamese boy holding a sign with my name on it. He reminds me of the vietcong kid whose sister Robin Williams tried to bugger in Good Morning Vietnam.

We get to our hotel, unfortunately we can't check in until 14.00. We abandon our bags and head to the tailors. He takes our measurements, we pick our materials and we pay the deposit for the suits.

That's now done so we grab a few beers at a local bar and smoke some cigarettes before heading to the hotel to check in. At this stage I am 45% sweat. The humidity is outrageous. How do they do it? There is a puddle developing between my balls and anus, it is very unpleasant. I am smoking more cigarettes, probably about one a minute, muttering "I need to drain the swamp". My jeans are clinging to me.

We check in, have a much needed shower following this we head out to get wasted.

There's a street in Saigon called the walking street. It's filled with bars, clubs, and endless amounts of drug dealers and prostitutes. I don't do drugs or prostitutes, but it adds a level of grittiness. Wild west shit. We find a bar towards the end of the street we grab three or four beers before going to a street restaurant for some chicken and rice. It was accompanied with some incredible chili sauce.

We found a cocktail/sports bar hybrid. Inside air conditioning, budwiser and hoegarden on tap. It was a beautiful comfortable fridge in this humid urban jungle. They had smoking inside too. Magnificent.

The chairs though were uncomfortable for extended bar-flying as a result we moved back to the strip. We found a bar selling Saigon Bia for 20,000 vietnam dong or 69 pence. We sit outside drink the beer and smoke camels. An old Dutch man is sitting behind us. He's feeding a cat some rice. He shouts something to us, I assumed he was German. I threw out my basic Germanaglish. He tells us he's Dutch I shout "Max Verstappen" back to him. He joins us.

He tells us he's married to a Vietnamese woman. That she owns this shitty bar. Great, we delve into the story. Married two years, he still lives in the Netherlands and he comes out to visit her every few months. He tells me he's a butcher. It kind of depresses me. We pay up and move on.


We go to another bar. The beer is advertised as 30,000 dong. For me they said they'll do 25,000 dong a beer. There's a guy in front of us a westerner, getting his trainers cleaned. He's then getting a lot of attention from some street urchin. We assume he's in some minor trouble. I say "he's done some great work on your shoes pal" he turns around smiling. We chat and the street urchin runs off. This is Craig from Glasgow. It turns out he earlier that night expressed an interest in obtaining cocaine but had lost interest when he was shown what he said was a needle and some brown gunk.

Anyway we sit back drink some beers. A Vietnamese guy destroys me at pool. Craig tells us this is Tranny Street. He says that's why he's there. I'm not sure if he's joking. On closer inspection the prostitutes walking up and down the street have exceptionally large hands and Adam apples the size of tennis balls. I guess I got distracted by the tits.

Anyway the night concludes. We get back to the hotel for 6am.

[Badfellow]

I don't do drugs or prostitutes…

If you weren’t a politician, I might be inclined to believe you.

[Nausea]

Prostitutes and drugs do him. He's an innocent man, you see.

[TheDrunkardAnglo]

Day 2

We wake up, generally no hangover. Though I am hit by a predicament. I'm coming close to 48 hours without taking a shit. I explain to my friend that this is due to my body working at full operational efficency, the reality though is I am quite concerned. My body has been pumped with chili sauce and some of the world's cheapest lager. At any other time I would be close to breaking point. My friend looks at me and says "babes, I actually think you might die".

We grab some Vietnamese iced coffee and head to the tailors for the first fitting. I look marvelous. He's chalking out alterations on the fly, almost like some kind of conductor.

We head to the Saigon War Remnants Museum. Mainly exhibitions on how cunty the South Vietnamese and Americans were. They had a chinook which I always like to see. Though I was really quite angry that they did not have a Huey on display.

We return to the hotel have some dinner on the rooftop. They made us some really shit cocktails. Too much vermouth. I quickly move onto the beer.

We move onto a cocktail bar. Really great place. Though no smoking inside. We end up talking to this American who has lived here for 15 years. It turns out he owns the bar. We're there until closing.

It is 2am and we're both still thirsty. All those people who say nothing good happens after 12.00am are generally wise people, though I have never listened to them.

I see there is a street with bars on nearby. I was expecting it to be quieter than the walking street. The reality is though never has there been such a concentration of whores since before Babylon was abandoned in 1000AD.

As we walk down they start tugging at our arms, trying to drag us into there respective bars. We walk through them. We go into the bar where there is no one pestering us to go in. We have a beer. Two girls join us. It is very weird. We know they want our money. The conversation is stunted. I'm not really putting in any effort. Why would I? They ask if they can order themselves a beer. We agree, but I conclude that's a sign we pay up and move onto the next one.

Enroute I'm saying to my friend we've got to be more assertive on us just having a quiet drink if we face this again. Simply because they will inflate our bill with their own drinks.

This became clear to me in the next bar. We were swarmed by even more women. The head bar lady said to me "if you guess my age, I buy you two beers. If you guess incorrectly you buy us shots". I look at the menu and I drunkardly reply "this may work on creepy Australian sex pests but this won't work with us honey. Our beers work out to be under 100k dong your collective drinks would almost be 1mil dong!"

She realises she's been caught out. I say "let's balance the odds. You guess my age I buy you a beer, you guess wrong you buy me a beer". She's having a bit of a huff and a puff at this stage. She says 34. I reply "wrong!" And show her my ID. She starts u-turning on our arrangement I just laugh. She goes "you want to see my age?" Before I could state I didn't care,  she interrupts with "I'm 37, you should call me Mamma!" I reply "you owe me a beer Mamma!"

The girls realising that they won't get anything out of us start to leave us alone to enjoy our beverages. I tell my friend "We've defeated them. We turned it on them. We took their souls!"

The problem was, that this was becoming dull. I can't remember exactly what kind of shit was coming out of my mouth at this moment, but I wanted to go to more bars and "crush more souls" we settled up and moved onto the next bar.

Same predicament. This time the main communication was happening on Google translate. I managed to very assertively balance every one more fairly into my favour. She asks for a drink, I say no. She tries to earn a drink, I ensure its the cheap Saigon Bia I'm drinking. Then something happened, something I didn't account for. One of the Devil Sluts who was talking to my friend asked if he liked coffee, she won the game and then ordered Kahlua shots for everyone. I lit a cigarette looked him in the eye and said "what the fuck are you doing?" He replied "she guessed my age". Fuck. I knew at this moment we were losing. After two more cigarettes she ordered more kahlua shots. This time without any cause. She's just randomly ordering shit that we'll end up paying for. I get the bill and we leave.

By my calculations she added effectively £30/£40 onto our tab. I know some people would have argued the bill, some would have walked away. I have a theory when it comes to these kinds of bars. It's better to pay without fuss. Those who don't often come back to pay with an assortment of beautiful bruises over their face.

We're like fuck, but we acknowledge we were playing with fire. Just happy that it wasn't worse, effectively its a minor ball ache which won't even impact that evenings drinking.

We go to another bar, this one I think is legitimate. Though we are met with this fat, old bald Australian who has two Vietnamese girls on each arm. He's exchanging tonsil tennis quite liberally with each of them. We're drinking and smoking. Playing pool with some random Vietnamese drunk. She's winning. We end up buying her beers. I'm talking to the bar owner, she's quite hot. She tells me she's been to London eight times. I throw out some flirty shit about being a very powerful man. She laughs. Her staffer was giving us cigarettes. The bill was reasonable I recall.

We walk back to the hotel stopping off at the convenience store for some meals. My friend knocks some of it on his bed. Just as I'm telling him "look at you! You're a fucking mess!" I do the same thing.

[Stendhal]

Keep on keeping on man, find a hooker who isn't a tranny. Or at least a bar that allows smoking.

[Stendhal]

Just think to yourself, What would Philip Larkin do or What would Kingsley Amis do?

[oettinger]

I`m laughing so hard. But I`m also scared, not a very good trip advisor

[TheDrunkardAnglo]

Day 3

We wake up go grab some pho. Have a couple of beers too. In a place called Propaganda. Filled with motifs of the great revolutionary struggle.

Went to the Old Post Office and grabbed some iced coffees. I did a very messy shit. It took me twenty minutes to push out all of the collective chilli and beer poison i had consumed so far.

Went to a craft beer place, it started raining. We were surrounded by a lot of western men with who I can only assume were vietnamese prostitutes.

Followed this by a series of cocktail bars and we ended up back on the Walking Street. At the end of the walking street is a bar. Cheap beer and this very flirty bar wench. I told her I was Academy Award Winner Philip Seymour Hoffman. She didn't believe me. It was messy. I was talking to some Yank who was telling me he got in a fight with some Vietnamese guy. He was going on about MMA. I asked him to say hello to me and my friend and refer to me as Academy Award Winning Actor Philip Seymour Hoffman. He did not. Fucking hell man, help a guy out.

Day 4

Mainly a travel day. A bit of a Bellshit day really. Off to Hanoi.

There was lots of talk in our Hangover talk about how our Ho Chi Minh Beer Trail has been hijacked by decedent counter-revolutionary thought.

How we were subdued from our revolutionary cause by fancy cocktails and loose women.

We we committed to purge this out. Find enjoyment in the cheap beer.

[Patchez]

You're telling me Craig can't find blow in Saigon? What a twat.

Cheap beer and only cheap beer from here on in. Maybe some blow and hookers.

[TheDrunkardAnglo]

Day 5

First day in Hanoi. I wake up, my cold that I've brought from the UK has turned into a chest or ear infection. It is unclear what. My ears are pressurised and I'm coughing up green or yellow mucus. I have ran out of paracetamol. I am struggling.

We grab some eggs benedict for breakfast. I'm really struggling to eat it. I am coughing. Every time i swallow my ears are in quite some pain. I google my symptoms conclude it is an infection. I found what the commonly used prescription antibiotic is to treat these kind of infections. I go to the pharmacist pick up the antibiotic and some ibuprofen. Luckily in Vietnam, there is no need for prescriptions. I Return to the hotel, I have some shut eye and then head to bars for some drinks.

First thoughts are that i'm not seeing the same level of dodgy westerners with much younger, much more attractive asian girls. Hanoi strikes me as an older city. Not so much built on a grid, but rather a city of whirling french colonial apartments under the shade of trees. It is beautiful, quiet but also chaotic.

There is one street i think it is called Bie Vien. Its the bar street. Rammed with Vietnamese and backpackers drinking cheap beer and eating a number of dishes. We have some cheap beer, some chips (or fries for the American Imperialist among you) and some salt covered wok fried chicken each coming with a chilli sauce.


There is this girl from Cumbria who is hammered off her tits, persistantly giving some 14 year old cigarettes. She shouts something about this being her last night in Vietnam. I'm mildly concerned she's going to try to sexually assault this poor adolescent.

We grab another beer, the cumbrian lass is now talking to us. We finish the beers and leave before she attempts to sexually assault us too.

[TheDrunkardAnglo]

Day 6

We wake up refreshed ready to visit Uncle Ho's mausoleum. Pay homage to the man. He defeated the French and the Americans. A multi lingual man of letters. Following this we smoke a few cigarettes as we're sweating balls in the Hanoi heat.

We decide to visit the prison, known more famously as the Hanoi Hilton. The majority of the exhibition is dedicated to the political prisoners struggle under French control. There is a bit on the downed American Pilots but most of this is about their vicious bombing campaign on Hanoi, not so much on how the North Vietnamese treated these Pilots.

I was disappointed to quickly realise most of the original camp was destroyed. There is now a real hotel where the Hanoi Hilton once stood. It's not a Hilton, but it is fancy. Wonder what John McCain thought of that.

We head back have a shower then go out for dinner and some drinks. There's a little pho place right by a cocktail bar. We go there. Sitting on little plastic chairs infont of plastic tables. They give us our beef pho. Little pickled chilies, pickled garlic in a brine and chili sauce. Its fucking amazing. Only thing missing is a little Hanoi Bia, the local brand of beer in my opinion not quite as nice as the Saigon Bia. We finish £1.27 it works out a bowl.

Next door a cocktail bar. Air conditioning and smoking allowed. That's more like it. We have two cocktails. First a Moscow Mule and then an old fashioned. Works out to be £4 a cocktail. More expensive than the beer, but very good for a not too bad price.

Still I insist we go back to our roots of cheap beer. We head to a rooftop bar. We can't find it. We go into a hostel to ask for directions, they direct us to their rooftop bar. A smelly elevator to the top and there it is. Very cheap. Good breeze. Packed with backpackers of all kinds. Hairy hippies who haven't seen a shower for a couple of weeks all the way to the blonde gap years with big tits. 

We sit back at the bar drink Bia Saigon after Bia Saigon, smoke cigarette after cigarette and people watch.

A group of Indians join us. One tells me he is planning to run for the BJP in Mumbai. "Jai Hind" I reply. "You know Jai Hind?" "My friend, I'm Gujarati at heart" "you're Gujarati at heart? Hahaha I fucking love this guy" he says. We drink a few beers, smoke some more cigarettes talk a bit of them setting me up with a sexy but rich Gujarati lady, then cricket and then they thankfully go. They didn't strike me as bad guys, but their enthusiasm was exhausting.

There was this Aussie bloke, completely hammered. Stumbling all over the place. Somewhat dangerous on a roof top bar. It became clear pretty quickly that he had pissed himself. One of the hostel bar staff. Sat him down, but he was insistent on standing up. The bar staff up, very politely walking him down the stairs and to the elevator. From what we saw it looked exhausting. The barman came back later. My friend said "carrying that guy down looked like it took a real lot of effort", "yeah and he was a rude shit" the barman replied.

I'm watching, what I didn't realise was a repeated game of Bournemouth against Tottenham. Bournemouth won, I celebrate. A drunk Swiss girl calls me over "your team won?" "No they're not my team. I just like to see other teams from London lose. I'm very bitter this way" I tell her.

We join her and her American friend. She's a bit of a depressing autistic to be Frank with you. She's going on about her art and how her godfather died and all this. I don't think she asked a single question to either me or my friend.

Her American friend, I'd say about 22 and Chinese by descent, is going on about how he loves trump and how his Swiss friend is a socialist. We wind him up. Playing to the ladies political sympathies.

He then starts to go fictional. Saying he's a big shot programmer and can look into what we Google. I say "go ahead, it won't be very interesting. Mainly best restaurants in Hanoi" he goes quiet again.

We end up going to a sports bar. They're playing Chelsea v Real Madrid live. I'm loosely watching. It's got air conditioning on. Smoking is allowed. The beer is cheap. We're there til closing. The barmaid who I befriended by teaching very poor Cockney rhyming slang too tells me about another sports bar we can go to that's open 24/7.

We go there get some Saigon bias. Then suddenly out of nowhere this 22 year old little Asian American says "I could beat you up". I reply "what's with the toxic masculinity champ? You know the correct thing to say after someone buys you a beer is thank you?". He tries to double down by going "I' don't mean beat you up. I just come into places and look around and think who I could beat in a fight". I say "son, you need to grow up. It would be pretty tragic for me to get into a fight with a little boy. The world isn't looking to fight you. Enjoy your beer on me, engage with people and have fun". He keeps on getting more embarrassed and as result talking more shit. He goes on about how he thought he could beat his teacher up.

I've had a few beers at this point and I want to really wreck him. So I say "you know, you're pretty fucked up. You're probably better off keeping this kind of thing to yourself. I bet you're one of those guys who'd take an AR15 into a school" he's going red. His autistic Swiss friend half heartedly comes to his defence stating she thinks it is healthy to express these things.

I reply "sweetheart, I met you guys two maybe three hours ago. In that time he's generally been hyperventilating in the corner not getting involved in the conversation. Not even making eye contact. No attempt to get involved. When he's not doing that he's threatened to beat me up, and now he's talking about how he wants to beat his old teacher up. I think when you actually think about it, none of that is healthy. You're only enabling him".

She has no reply. It is five o'clock. She has a bus to catch. We have our own travel commitments at eight o'clock.

Their hostel is in the general direction of their hotel. The American is now going on to my friend how this American culture. "We wrestle in boardrooms". My friend asks him what board rooms he's been in. He says Amazon. My friend replies "I don't believe you. I suspect if you wrestled someone in a board room. Security would take you out and you'd lose your job" we stop talking. We've reached our hotel. We give them the directions to their hostel.

They say "oh wow, you're staying in a hotel. You guys must have serious money".

We say our goodbyes, without exchanging details and go to bed.

"This is the problem with meeting people in Hostel bars" my friend says as we go up the elevator "they're often fucking retarded" I nodded in agreement.

[TheDrunkardAnglo]

Day 7

From the previous night we decided it is futile to sleep. Our bus to Halong Bay leaves at eight am. We go to the breakfast buffet. Coffee and food. The food is shit. I have three servings.

My friend suggests we have a little nap. I agree but put on an alarm. I don't sleep. He gets like 1-2 hours. It's not enough. I wake him up. He's cantankerous. He's known for his cantankerous nature, but on this morning he was in full glory. It was a sight to see.

We're in the elevator going down. I say "you're dead babe! Don't worry you'll have a sleep in the bus and feel right as rain".

He very quickly cuts me off and says with some severe seriousness "I don't want to hear any of your bullshit. I don't need to do this excursion. I'm tired I don't think I'll enjoy it. One word from you and I'll go to bed"

The elevator hits the lobby. There is silence. I go outside smoke a few cigarettes awaiting the bus to arrive.

We get on the bus the seats are fucking narrow. It's uncomfortable. We crash out and wake up at the first pit stop. It's basically a motorway service station with a pearl factory. They want to give us a tour of the pearl factory. We go in and then do a u-turn to smoke cigarettes. I mutter as we smoke "I watched a documentary on this shit once, I don't need to know anymore about pearls than the very basic shit I know", my friend nods in agreement before saying "I'm not buying any of these fucking pearls from these cunts".

We manage to grab some Vietnamese iced coffees before getting on the bus and having another sleep until we get to port.

We get on the boat and after the first Saigon Beer he's back to his self. They serve us this lunch. I instantly regret over indulging in this hotel buffet. I take my beer up to the top of the boat and start smoking.

My friend joins me we have more beers. Smoking. I always understood Halong Bay is where they filmed the scenes between Roger Moore and Christopher Lee in the Man with the Golden Gun. I later find out this is not the case, but it was a nice thought while it lasted.

As we're getting through the beers. I notice all these Indian men seem to be taking selfies. Not so much with the beautiful islands in the background but rather the bikini dressed western women. Its quite shameless.

There is a group of gorgeous women. Exotic in appearance, speaking a language I do not recognise. It sounds at times similar to French, at other times similar to Arabic. Are they Lebanese? I ponder aimlessly as I subtley ogle at them through my sunglasses. Hangovers do make me shockingly horny. I query whether I should join them for a cigarette, but I cower in my hungover state. I'm a sweaty, stinking mess and my head is thumping like the American B52 bomber. There's at least six of them, and anything I come up with in this state would have the sophistication and charm of an ox taking a rather large shit.

The hotties notice that the Indian men are taking selfies with the intention of highlighting them. They bicker amongst themselves in their beautiful foreign tongue before scaring the Indian men away. Beautiful, sexy, wise these mystical hotties are.

The Indian men have quickly sought out new targets. They pick this group of four British girls. Attractive but *VERY* young. I assume they just left school, about to go to university. The girls are at first weirded out by the attention, but then they find it amusing. The Indian men then ask for pictures with the girls. The girls oblige. I say to my friend "those naive, naive, naive girls". It starts to get too much for one, she's very uncomfortable, but her friend is too polite to say no.

I do not intervene.

We stop off at an island dedicated to Gherman Titov, a Soviet cosmonaut. There is a giant statue dedicated to him on the island and it is surrounded by bars and beer stalls. I am a massive fan. I go to the bathroom. I need to take a massive shit. They have these giant rolls of toilet paper in these dispensers outside the toilet. The idea is you take how much paper you think you need before going to the cubicle to shit. In my hungover state I don't work this out. I take the master roll. Go to my cubicle and shit my liver out. Then liberally wipe my arse. I do not return the master roll.

Many people that day as a result were unable to wipe their arse. That's life. Sometimes a hungover englishman will come and fuck up a system that has previously worked fine and he will do so without any apology. Not even a bumbling one.

We're back on the boat. A few more islands. Some exhausting climbing. Boat trip finished. We get the bus back to Hanoi. We arrive back, quick sticky rice and char siu pork and an early night.

[TheDrunkardAnglo]

Day 8

We wake up with the greatest amount of rest we've had so far on the trip. Truly refreshed. We get the taxi to the airport we're heading back to Saigon.

In the airport I grab a beef pho, an iced coffee and a pepsi. It hits the spot. We then grab some more iced coffees and head to the airports smoking area. This one was nice. Park bench type polished granite seat with a view of the runway.

We're hit by extreme humidity, but in that moment, I would not have traded it for anything else. My brothers and sisters of Bachus too often do we look at where we want to be next and far to infrequently do we enjoy that exact moment. We only enjoy those moments in retrospect or through nostalgia. My dear reader, I can assure you in that moment I did truly enjoy that moment. Was it remarkable? No, but in that moment, I was at peace. In a modest and simple comfort. I chained several cigarettes sipping on that coffee looking out across the airfield. "What a fucking country!" I said to my friend.

Then we headed back to where it all started for us. The city of the South. The flower Saigon. When you visit a city again, I find it can be unhelpful to try and relive the joys of the first visit and it will ultimately be disappointing. When we booked our accommodation I made sure it was in a different part of the city.

This new hotel was located spitting distance from Saigon Town Hall and the closest bars were generally in the Japanese Quarter. A part of the city we had not visited previously.

We landed, we dropped our bags off at the hotel and we headed to the South Vietnamese Government's central building. It had the Presidents Office, the Cabinet Room and a bunker for the president. In April 1975 this building was ransacked by North Vietnamese tanks. Forty eight years later it has been ransacked by the Drunkard Anglo.

We went to a sports bar after to celebrate. Called Phattys. Cheap, but not filled with whorish waitresses trying to inflate your bill. They allow smoking inside. They have all the major sports covered on the various televisions. They're quick to refill your beer when empty, and empty your ash tray when full.

We end up doing a bit of a pub crawl, I can't remember the full details. It did get messy. We were in what I guess is the hooters of Saigon. It's called Barb Wire. Cheap beers again and barmaids who don't want to inflate your bill. We arrive when they're doing some kind of photo shoot for their bars social media.

We're the only customers in there and they are fully staffed. We get a lot of attention and it is safe to say it goes to my head. As a result we stay for three or four drinks longer than we should have for such a quiet place.

We move to the next. A german beer place. They do not have air conditioning. As soon as we enter our shirts cling to us. The beer isn't bad, they don't take card though, and neither are they helpful in telling me where a cashpoint is. Fuck sake I mutter to myself as I'm pacing all over the city trying to withdraw cash.

I return we pay and move on. Many of the places we go to are one and go, and there are a few we get comfortable in. We end up in a cabaret bar. Its supposed to be predominantly popular with chinese, korean and japanese expats and tourists but on this night it was us.

The singers are actually very good. We are very drunk. The lady singer not only had a great set of lungs but also had an arse that could cure cancer.

We were shouting out suggestions, some of which were taken, others not so much. Either way we left that place much more drunk.

It was late, we had cocktails, beer and we wanted more. We return to barb wire. The photo shoot is finished and now the bar is getting a bit busy. They seem happy to see our return. We drink, smoke some cigarettes, before they start playing music. Much of it is dreadful. I get them to play Sweet Caroline and Hi Ho Silver Lining. At this point i am raising my hands and shouting the chorus.

We end up being joined by an american and two germans. I can't remember any of their names.

One of the bar maid's starts shaking her booty on me. I eventually start to rub it. She doesn't stop. I subtlety start to rub her pussy. She asks me where I'm staying, I reply, I ask her where she's staying. Twenty minutes away.

I say let's go there. She says "come back tomorrow". Following this I pick up my drink and join my friend and the other foreigners. We're there until closing. Its got to be 3 or 4am. We're hammered but we're still thirsty.

I approach a few locals enjoying some food and iced beverages on plastic chairs to ask for places to drink. This was met with general amusement but no suggestions of bars.

My friend then wanted some late night food before sleep. This was not to be found.

[oettinger]

Whaaaaattt. Audiobook anywhere?!??!?

[oettinger]

I just finished reading all. Damn funny shit there DA