Chase, get excited -- you don't have to read about Belgrade ever again. Or at least for the next two weeks, that is, until I fly back there as Stop 1 on my rock star farewell tour across Europe and back home to Houston. But starting tomorrow, the blog will have a whole new look, just for you.

I'm going on my first ever business trip.

Courtesy of Uncle Dan the Man, it will include stops in Singapore, Ho Chi Minh City, Hong Kong and Shanghai.

Business is good.

"You're going to ASIA now?!" Aly screamed when he heard the news the day after my birthday. "Why don't you just rip my shirt off and take a s**t on my chest? I hate you that much."

It's the Luck of the Traveler, what can I say? One day, I'm sitting around the table at the Black Catz, samo blejanje. The next -- without doing anything to deserve it -- I'm sitting around the same table, reading an email from Uncle Dan that permanently changes the course of my trip.

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(My thoughts in italics)

Billy,

Ha -- I guess the name is catching on even with my relatives.

I trust you are well in war-torn territory.

Jašta, brate.

I wanted to offer the opportunity few recent, college grad, Sherpa's in training can refuse.

I am officially the laziest Sherpa of all time if that's how you view me.

Accompany me on an upcoming business trip through five cities in Asia in two weeks...

Does anyone know the Heimlich??

Should you be interested...

Should I be interested?!?!?!

... I've already found a source of funds to finance your journey to/from.

There is a God. And his name is Daniel.

That will also require some clothing allowance to bring you up to at least business casual status.

What is he trying to say??
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It was most definitely an offer this Sherpa-in-training could not refuse.

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The theme of the trip is simple: Don't embarrass Uncle Dan.

Which explains why you won't be seeing much of this guy for the next few weeks:

"Balkan Billy" -- Cousin of Cyrus the Virus; Wanted on rape charges in three counties.

"Given that I've required him to shave and remove his current terrorist image, he shouldn't be too frightening to the kids & Lesli."

That's what Danny had to say about me to his friend Mark, in one of the many emails that have been cc'ed to me since I got on board.

"Glad you are clean shaven. Be sure you are also drug free. They kill for that in Singapore, inform family later."

And that's what he had to say today, when I let him know I had complied with his demands. Give him an inch, and he takes a freaking mile. I guess I'll just give my syringes to some homeless Turkish guy on the way to the Istanbul airport tomorrow.

I cleaned up my act for the Don't Embarrass Uncle Dan Show. Balkan Billy will be immortalized forever on my Vietnamese and Chinese visas, but he is dead to me for the next half month. A free hair cut from Original Gangsta Zoka struck the first blow, and my first shave in more than two months sealed the coffin.

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Every guy needs to cut the crap if he doesn't admit -- out loud -- that he is a slave to what I call the "eye bat request" from a good-looking girl.

"You can cut your hair, but do you really have to shave?" O.G. Zoka asks. "I love your beard."

"Shave your beard, fine, but please don't cut your hair," Ana says. "When you go to Africa next year, send me a picture of it in a ponytail. It will look soooo great."

Girls know what they're doing when they pull stuff like that. They're manipulating. And it almost always works.


When you've got two eye bat requests going at the same time, though .... well, the results can be disastrous.

You can see where Dan came up with the whole "terrorist image" thing. I went to buy an imitation mp3 player last night to replace my MIA iPod, and was asked point blank by the cashier if I was a Muslim.

"No," I answered. "Why? Most people think I'm a Jew."

"Well, you've got the beard, and you chose green."

"Yeah," I said, "that's because I don't want a freaking pink mp3 player."

But it's also because I am a sucker to the eye-bat request.

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The hair cut experience. It was a classic "not gay, not gay" moment.

"Sit down," O.G. Zoka ordered. She had just hacked off the entire back of my hair, making me look like Marky Mark from "The Departed" in less than two minutes, and was going to get something out of the bathroom that would make it look better -- allegedly.

She came back into the room holding some type of hair care product.

"I'm not putting gel in my hair."

"It's not gel, don't worry."

"Then what is it?"

"Not gel."

"It IS gel!" I shot back.

"No, it's not. Just relax."

"Zoka! Just tell me what it is!" If it wasn't gel, it was gel's cousin, from what I could see of the container.

"It's wax, okay? Just chill."

"Wax?! Wax is the same thing!" It's the spirit of the law, folks.

"Just sit!"

This was not an eye bat request. It was an order.

"I can't believe I'm letting you do this. You already used a blow drier!"

"Why are guys so scared of saying that they use gel? Relax."

............

So I'll admit it: The wax thing makes you look cool.

But I can't let it happen ever again. Pandora's Box is shut. Shut and padlocked. What would come next if I didn't close the door now? A nail file? A facial? Getting my split ends trimmed??


It was bad enough that I let her blow dry. Wax just made me feel like I was tucking it between my legs.

Ana wasn't impressed one bit.

"F**k you." That was the first thing she said when I told her that I had had to cut my hair.

"Yeah but I gotta look professional," I explained. "I can't embarrass my uncle, ya know?"

"It's terrible," she said, not holding any punches. "You look like a geek."

"Yeah but do you know who Marky Mark is??"