(Not that anyone will really care. Just in case anyone's all 'hey, Danny hasn't posted in a few days, maybe he's dead.')
I am typing from Bali. Which is an island of Indonesia. See? I am smart, and know geography.
I am on a holiday. With ten friends. It is really quite awesome. Today we went white water rafting. Which makes you even wetter than you think it would.
So it is warm, and I'm a little bit sunburned, but I DON'T CARE, for I am hardcore. Too hardcore for the sun to bother me.
Last night (wait, no, the night before) myself and a friend were dancing and playing instruments on stage with a live percussion band, wearing traditional Indonesian masks. Which is the kind of thing you can only do when you're in a club shaped like a pirate ship, which serves drinks in litre quantities from fishbowls. Drinks which taste like pineapple juice mixed with coconut mixed with god knows what alcohol.
Spending large portions of my day sitting by the pool talking to cute girls who are sometimes topless. Enjoying a complimentary buffet breakfast. Strolling the beaches at sunset. Pretending I know how to surf.
Life is nice.
PS: If you're planning a mountain climb, and the Lonely Planet guide says that the climb is 'difficult', BELIEVE IT. Don't think 'oh, but that's difficult for fat American tourists, whereas I am quite fit and will have no trouble'. Difficult means difficult. From now on, I only do climbs rated 'Easy. Really easy. So easy a one legged baby could climb this mountain'.
My legs hurt.
