Crap Crap Crap

No, it wasn't a New Year's Resolution, but I am trying to make this thing more interesting (maybe it should have been, although I try my darnedest not to make any resolutions whatsoever). Maybe when I get round to changing the 'look and feel' (god how I hate that phrase) it might perk up a bit—which will probably be some time in April, at the rate I'm going. But right now, no offense to the superb yankee designer who put this skin together, it lacks. And not in a good, yoni kind of way.
(the definition is right down the bottom, which I could easily have cut-and-pasted, but I wanted you to do your own dirty work)

But come back here so I can point you to a riverbed carving of a yoni, complete with a quincunx of lingas (I don't think I have ever, in my 5 years of knowing what that word meant, had a opportunity to use it in a sentence that wasn't a definition). Or this of hundreds of 'em at Phnom Kulen, which is the holy mountain where the ancient khmer quarried all their stone for the unspeakably magnificent monuments at Angkor. And to think the Khmer were building these while Europe was drinking mead, running around in hair shirts and wielding 30 kilo hunks of dull blunt metal they called swords?

If that doesn't whet your appetite for Cambo, nothing will. But if it does, check out talesofasia.com. It's chock full of all the tidbits you'll need to get around everywhere in SEA, from Indo to Myanmar and Vietnam and back again, by the jungle tracks, whether or not they've been dashed upon the rocks by monstrous earthquake-induced tidal waves... speaking of which I had a mate on the beach at Patong, Phuket, that fateful day, who managed to grab his belongings and run like Billy-Oh. One very lucky boy.

But back to the main point—glaringly obvious from my first line: the harder you try with these things, the worse the result is. It is inevitable. Like those dreaded teenage stunts where you call out to your mates "hey fellas, look at this!" only to tumble off the railings and end up walking round school with your arm in a sling and a self-inflicted black eye.

Well, at least it got you out of swimming.