Guys complain all'a time that expats always complain.
Crotchety and grumpy 'n shit, right?
Then comes the obligatory question well if ya don't like it why ya keep livin' here then, huh?
Huh. huh? C'mon, fess up, why ya keep livin' here if ya don't like it so much?
One of the greatest things and a lesson for us all is a trip some splendid afternoon to any one of 32 Malls wearing your colorful but ragged boxer shorts.
And not even the slightest fuck was given by anyone.
This next bit I think has more to do with the thrill and excitement of getting old but eventually the location of the nearest toilet becomes pretty fucking important in your life...
Pissing ends up being this all-encompassing reality, as in I don't give a flying fuck, if I don't piss right the fuck now I'm gonna explode and I ain't gonna piss my pants no siree bob.
See, around here, ya could pretty much piss anywhere, and it's ok.
So wearing boxer shorts, and being able to piss anywhere are real advantages if you live here.
There's one other major one though...
I'm sure it'll come to me soon enough.
