Archive for January, 2008

Third gender by On Nutter

Who really understands ladyboys? They are everywhere in Thailand and seem to be multiplying in Bangkok. They are perceived at best as a freak show and at worst as dangerous thieves. But what really lies behind the outrageous exhibitionism of Thailand’s third gender?

I had the chance to dig a little deeper when I was asked by Sukhumvit Eye, a new monthly magazine, to interview a ladyboy for a feature article. Perhaps because of the misgivings many farangs have about katoeys, I could not find a friend to accompany me on my mission as I headed to Guess Bar, the ladyboy beer bar that relocated recently to Sukhumvit Soi 4, near the Raja Hotel, following the demise of Sukhumvit 1 Plaza where it was previously housed.

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Operation Nid, Pattayrag revealed, and malls suck

I love saying I am going to Pattaya for business. Just something sinister about it. I am mean sure - I will always fit in a little free time for exploring but since I write about it I tend to think of it as a business trip. Sucks to be me. Anyway - lots going on. Some serious rain today in lower Suk. Soi 4 all flooded. pmmp texted me to say that he had to go to the Big Mango and make sure we were not flooded. We laughed. Not our problem now but it is funny since the landlords in the old mango did nothing. Flooding - our problem. Power out - our problem. Leaky plumbing - our problem. I don’t mind taking some responsibility for our digs but the purpose of renting is that the maintenance of the building is the landlord’s problem. Just not the case in Nana. Anyway - if it is true that the hollywood dude is renting our old digs - I hope he checked the roof out since usually it floods like a beasty right into the landlord’s tailor shop. Hope u picked up your shirts yesterday.

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Forte rocking, Tapas is a goldmine and yes - the search is still on!

Hello folks. Got a few emails this past week asking if we were ever going to re open the blessed Big Mango. As soon as we sign a lease for a new spot we will announce it on the blog. Then people can try to find out where it is because we will probably keep that silent for a while. Possibly have a spot the new mango construction zone contest or something. Point is the search has been ongoing and we do not want to announce anything until things look solid. I do want to thank all of our loyal fans though for keeping the interest alive and for checking in from time to time. We appreciate it a ton.

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The St. Moritz G-Club and Some Help Understanding G-Clubs by BigBabyKenny

The St. Moritz is a G-Club on Sukhumvit Soi 11.

It is at the end of Soi 11 where the street comes to a T intersection. You can’t see it from Sukhumvit.

At the T you turn left and it is on the right hand side right next to the Q-Bar. The place is huge and hard to miss although the entrance is kind of funky. You have to go around the side, walk down into the garage and then up to the front. You can’t walk directly to the front door from Soi 11.

I visited the St. Moritz on consecutive nights, sat down with a saleslady and went over the membership details and the pricing structure, and spent the evenings hanging with a couple of the hostesses.

The St. Moritz and The Soprano House have similar décor and ambiance. Both of these places are nicer, cleaner, better maintained and classier than The Pent.

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McDonald’s fraudulent bread swappage

editor’s note:

Following my diatribe is a soon to be published article regarding McDonald’s and their expanded push for the breakfast menu throughout Thailand. If you remember we broke it first here on the blog, when McDonald’s first started serving breakfast in a few locations across Bangkok. It was a limited menu as compared to McDonald’s in America but the items were identical and quite tasty. I was so pleased.

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Male Chauvinist Pig by MCAD

editor’s note: all links and style fixed. I suck.

As a gentle introduction, let’s start with the scary-looking foreign word - chauvinist.

Merriam-Webster says:

  1. excessive or blind patriotism — compare jingoism
  2. undue partiality or attachment to a group or place to which one belongs or has belonged
  3. an attitude of superiority toward members of the opposite sex; also : behavior expressive of such an attitude

http://www.m-w.com/dictionary/chauvinism

In this instance, we’re clearly concerned with the third definition. Male Chauvinism, it seems, can be described as an attitude of male superiority towards females.

I’m personally male, even though I sometimes disagree with other commenters here, and yes - I believe that my Y-chromosome makes me infinitely superior to not just one woman, but to all of womankind - both individually and collectively.

As an example of my overwhelming superiority, and of the superiority of men everywhere, let’s take a look at our title. Not by the tongue of a strapping be-testicled cunning linguist was this phrase first uttered. No, it’s clearly a female invention.

You see, one of the things that first riled me about feminism, as far back as childhood, was that oh-so-clever phrase, “male chauvinist pig”.

Male - okay, guilty. Chauvinist - fine. Pig - uh… what? I mean, come on. If you’re going to attempt to insult me, at least have the balls, or indeed ovaries, to try to do so in an inventive and amusing manner.

I remember thinking, as a child, that there was something dreadfully wrong with these women. How could they justify the blanket labelling - as a farmyard animal, no less - of people with whose opinions on gender politics they did not agree?

Intellectually, this is on a level with a Republican referring to Democrats as “Dumb-o-crats”, or of fans of the Man City soccer team referring to their arch rivals, Man U, as “Man Poo”. It’s an irrelevant insult that tells us nothing, other than the approximate mental age of the individual in question.

Modern feminists should surely have enough faith in their own convictions to be able to hold a reasoned debate - to engage us, the enemy, in a discussion whereby both sides may end up understand each other a little better.

“No”, they say. “We will stick our fingers in our ears and call them pigs. That ought to do it.”

Which brings me to my point, which is that as I was enthusiastically chomping on my carbon-neutral, fair-trade mung bean and tofu salad last Friday lunchtime, I was perusing The Guardian’s website. For those of you not familiar with the British press, The Guardian is a left-leaning broadsheet daily newspaper, read by middle-class people with beards and sandals, all of whom are called Tarquin or Jemima.

Random Acts of Feminism, said one of the front-page headlines. And, like a fool, I clicked.

Gentlemen, I was astounded. Wendy Roby, by way of the splendidly hippyish “Random Acts of Kindness” of Professor Chuck Wall, clumsily but astonishingly comes around not to approaching the great gender debate, nor even to lay out her beliefs, but to make the suggestion that modern radical feminism might be best served by a campaign of vandalism, graffiti and the abandonment of female pubic grooming.

Here are my three favourite examples of Wendy’s womanly wisdom, but please do read her piece for yourself. It’s gut-wrenchingly embarrassing.

  • What to do when you see a “lad’s mag” in a shop“Lad’s mag” is British parlance for a magazine along the lines of FHM, Nuts or Maxim, usually featuring a scantily-clad hot chick on the cover. Inside, the discerning reader can look forward to articles about cool stuff, fast cars, and hot chicks. Because men like cool stuff, fast cars, and hot chicks. Duh.
    Initially, Wendy suggests that good feminists should, and I can’t quite believe I’m going to say this, “ferret out some copies of Good Housekeeping and Mary Beth’s Beanie World, and put these nice homely publications neatly at the front of the racks, obscuring the latest lads’ mags. You don’t even have to touch the hateful things!”

    At this point, I decided that Wendy Roby was clearly a pseudonym for one of us, and that the article was in fact a delicious satire on the idiocy of petty-minded neo-feminists. And so I typed “Wendy Roby” into Google. To my horror, I discovered that she is real. Not only is she real, but she has fans. I discovered articles of nodding approval from presumably-big-boned correspondents at UK feminist websites The F Word and Feminasty. Dear god.

    “[D]raw a speech bubble ready to animate one of the pouting cover girls”, suggests Wendy. “It might say, ‘I am somebody’s sister’, or ‘Despite my come-hither expression, I wouldn’t shag a Nuts reader for a million pounds’.”

    “Somebody’s sister”? What difference does that make? If a hot chick has a sister, who’s also a hot chick, we simply lust after both of them. Extra marks for twins.

    And given that FHM covergirl Sophie Anderton recently got caught offering to shag an undercover journalist for just ten grand, I’d advise against the latter suggestion, too.

    Astonishingly, Wendy does not mention traditional pornographic magazines. So presumably they’re okay.

  • What to do when your minge is a mess“When the boyfriend of Christine from London started making crude hints about her bikini wax being overdue [...] she decided that it was time to let her hair flourish.”"‘In this case,’ she writes, ‘two weeks was enough to prove the point’. (Said boyfriend has since been banished.)”

    The mind boggles. I suspect that the now ex-boyfriend was rather relieved to be “banished”, and would like to think that he has now found a nice girl who doesn’t have a muff like Bob Geldof’s hair.

  • Amend offensive graffiti
    “The WCs of Britain’s clubs and pubs might also be a nice place to awaken some solidarity. Whenever I see something nasty scrawled on the back of a toilet door, I like to add amendments of my own. It only takes a second - and a handy marker pen - to transform something mean-spirited.”

    “Cross out the ‘c’ and the ‘h’, for example, and ‘Jilly is a bitch’ can quickly be changed to ‘Jilly is a bit of a genius’.”

    I cannot even begin to contemplate commenting on this suggestion. The woman is clearly insane.

Readers, if there really is a gender war being waged by neo-feminists, I think they just lost it. This website’s very own glabrous gigolo, pmmp, observed that here in Thailand, despite Thai women being victims of the Thai education system, they’ve managed to figure it out. Critical feminist theory would be an alien concept to most of them, and yet they run the place.

If anyone deserves ridicule and unglamourous labels, it’s the Western women who focus their sense of frustration at their own failures on some entirely imaginary global conspiracy of male supremacists. We’re not a conspiracy, dearie. We’re just rather more focused than you are.

See, if we don’t approve of something, we won’t resort to petty-minded vandalism or idiocy - we’ll do something about it. We didn’t approve of most Western women, which is why we sprang to action and came here. Given the abject lack of justification for labelling me a pig, I’m going to correct it.

Which is why, from now on, I’m going to refer to myself as a Male Chauvinist Awesome Dude. I suggest readers do the same.

Quick Cowboy Update

Pretty interesting times on Cowboy right now. My older brother and I were making the rounds last night and decided to pop into Dejavu. I couldn’t believe my eyes, all the girls were gone except for five or six rather plump one’s. I had visited just a few days earlier and it was rammed with hotties and customers. Both have fled proving once again that having hot gogo girls is very good for business. I have to admit that I was glad to see the Mamasan toil in her misery. I have some issues with her and now that she has no girls we can see that her superior management skills can’t carry the bar. Surprise Surprise. However, I was very curious as to what happened. After leaving Dejavu we bumped into somebody who knows a bit about Cowboy. He told us that the girls (and not only from Dejavu but also Midnite and Our Place which are owned by the same owner) have fled to Shebas, Suzie Wong’s, Joy, and even Dollhouse. No reason was given but should be interested to see how this all develops.

-pmmp

Enlightenment by On Nutter

It has taken me 10 years to reach the Buddhist state of Enlightenment. The moment of supreme clarity came as an Isaan princess played with my balls in a bath tub in the S. Botan massage parlour on Rama VI. And I owe it all to Cheapolay and Smitty.

As with all life-changing moments, it had been preceded by suffering. The previous night I had paid a 600-baht Nana Plaza barfine on top of several outrageously priced lady-drinks for a cutie who ticked all the boxes. The only problem was that as soon as we arrived at my apartment she told me it was the wrong time of the month. It would be an understatement to say I was angry.

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