Today we drove through the jungle. Like, we drove through a fucking jungle. I mean, some people may have done some shit, but I’ve driven a 1965 Vespa Sprint through a jungle over a precarious and crumbling stick bridge and through river beds in the fucking rain. I’ve piloted a scooter to places heretofore unseen by the likes of scooter enthusiasts. I’ve navigated my way down a cascading road of slick clay through rushing torrents of water, narrowly missed sheer cliffs, drop-offs and land-slides and lived to tell the tale. Suffice to say, there aren’t many pictures because it was actually really fucking dangerous (no joke) and Jackie was being a super puss because she fell off my bike. Fell off. That’s right. We were barrelling up and down jungle trails barely wide enough to accommodate a small circus monkey and I’m struggling to keep the bike upright and the front wheel ahead of the back and Jackie has the gall to fall off.

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These pants were dirtied with my own, personal brand of pudding.

Anyway, we made it out alive. We were fairly lost for a good couple of hours, but we’re okay in a cheap hotel room, which is better than great (the fact that we’re okay, I mean. The hotel room has a squat toilet and more bugs than a Looney Tunes Marathon).  We just played Canasta and ate 1.5 lbs of yogurt a piece. Each one of us did that. It’s shameful and impressive. Or degrading and disappointing. Or whatever. Either way, I’m full of yogurt and in some small amount of pain due to the jarring and strenuous nature of the ride today as well as the weird muscles used to maintain vertical status while carooming (a word) down bauxite-lubed paths.

It’s time for bed. We’re all safe and sound and looking forward to tomorrow’s ride. We’re getting to Da Lat and chilling out there for a minute. 

Also, for posterity’s sake, it should be noted that after a single beer Joshua Beresford Morgan becomes less aware of the weird noises he makes: case and point, he literally moaned in pleasure while savoring some yogurt licked from his yogurt pack’s foil lid.  It was a straight up porno moan. It was genuine, too.

That’s a blog. Sniff you jerks later.

Addendum: my hotel neighbor is listening to Toni Braxton’s “Unbreak My Heart” on repeat and has been for the last 30 minutes. Awesome. Just. Awesome.

Final Addendum: “Unbreak My Heart” lasted for 2 and a half hours. This morning it’s something shitty and different on repeat. I say that thankfully.

Let me know what you think, yo.