You will be missed...

This post is in honor of Captain Beautiful. He's being sent home early for not booking any work. Everyone except the Captain is distraught. 

"Don't worry" he consoled, "I know that I am a beautiful, but they just don't see it here. I'll take my Beauty somewhere they will appreciate it"

So without any further adieu, back by popular demand (mostly his): 
Captain Beautiful!


What would Buddha do? AKA The Ping Pong Ball Trick (Part 2)

I’ve recently discovered a fellow Miamian named Sergio (originally Columbian) living amongst the model wildlife of Bangkok. We’ve been working out almost every day for a week with his Hungarian agency-mate who calls himself “Captain Beautiful”. 
Last Thursday we were in a taxi back from the movies and decided that we weren’t getting and authentic-enough experience in our time abroad. Sergio suggested we go to a ladyboy bar.  I countered that if we were going to do that, we would need to dress the part. We’ve had enough conflicts with the pretentious owners of the ‘model-clubs’ regarding dress code and agreed that it would be for the best if we blend in. It would probably make the ladyboys feel more comfortable to be with one of their own kind... it’s what Buddah would do in our situation for sure!
It took us a while to decide on our names. I wanted to be LingLing (“Monkey monkey” in Thai) but Sergio insisted that I be named Ping and he be my sister Pong; two latin ladies going out for a classy night in Bangkok.
The next day after castings we went shopping!  It took about an hour to find the proper clothes... everywhere we went, the locals were laughing at us. I began to feel self-conscious. We were on a market street with hundreds of shoe stores and yet I still couldn’t find a single pair that would fit me, “PONG!” I broke down hysterically “I am no beautiful! Nobody will ever love me because my feets are too beeg and I am a fat! It is no fair because you are so pretty and already have de boots but I do not and todos hombres no van a quierrer a jodame!!!!!”
“Ping! Look at me!” Sergio shook me, but I was wailing uncontrollably. A crowd was beginning to gather “Ping!” He slapped me. “You are a beautiful. No matter how gigantic your feets may be, they are your feets and they are a beautiful feets!” 
When we finished embracing, a salesgirl brought out the largest pair of shoes in the shop. They were black and white animal print, and still a little too small, but they covered my toes in case the clubs decided to enforce the dress code. The girl affirmed in Thai that they looked gorgeous on me (and so did the crowd), so I bought them for 100Baht ($3) and we were on our way to find matching dresses. 
We got dressed at Sergio’s Swedish lady-friend’s apartment. They had a bit of a thing recently and she didn’t seem happy as she applied his fake eyelashes. It was as if she thought this meant Sergio was gay just because he wanted to be a ladyboy. Models can be so stupid sometimes. Her American roommate Kiley had a purse that (miraculously) matched my shoes and by ten o’clock we were fierce ladies on the street looking for a cab. 
I stopped at a 7-11 to buy a set of pingpong balls (“Just in case”) When we walked out, a local on a motorbike yelled “Tasty!” in Thai as he passed. Sergio blew him a kiss, his Swedish lady-friend covered her eyes. 
The first stop was Koi Fashion Lounge for the usual model dinner and drinks pre-game. We were flirting with every car and pedestrian the taxi passed, but once inside the club my seester Pong seemed a little uncomfortable despite the fact the every model in the place screamed a big welcome. He relaxed a little  when we had eaten and had a few shots. “I donno if I can have another Long Island, Ping...” he said “I don’t want to get too slutty. Not yet, at least”
After our fourth Long Island, Ping and Pong were the belles of the ball. The owner of the club had his camera guy follow us around for over an hour. He told me I could find the pictures on their website, and tucked his card into my boob with a wink. “They love us, Ping! The paparazzi keeps a taking our pictures! It is que escandalo! AND I got a boy’s number!!!” 
“You is such a slut!” We were playing a drinking game with one of the Ping Pong balls when Capt Beautiful showed up from the model dinner he was in at a previous club. He gave us big hugs and made us take dozens of pictures with him. “Oh man, you guys look good!” he squeezed me under his giant arm and flexed. “You know... when I get drunk I sometimes make out with guys... Crazy, right?! Because I’m totally straight but like when I drink I will kiss a guy because the girls love it!” 
A few rounds of shots later and Capt Beautiful was chasing us around the bar. He lifted up my dress and put his head in and I slapped him. “It’s okay, I’m Captain Beautiful. I have a good heart” He put my hand on his right pectoral and made it twitch like a heart beat. He leaned in for a kiss and I stuck the ping pong ball in his mouth. I grabbed my sister and we fled to the next model party down the street at a club called Narz. 
So far we hadn’t gotten any trouble regarding the dress code. They let us right in at Narz, but the club was dead. Kiley and the Swede headed for home around 1:30, so we decided it was time for the real ladyboy bars. A new guy at my agency, Daniel, was bored so accompanied us to Nana Plaza. 
We stepped out of the taxi a little after 2am and were greeted by dozens of screaming tourists and prostitutes. I grabbed my seester “Pong! We are finally a famous!!!” 
“I know Ping! Isn’t it wonderful!”
“What the fuck are we doing?!” Said Daniel in his Slovakian accent. “You guys are going to get us killed!”
It turns out the Thailand is very strict on prostitution, but only after 2am. All the bars in Nana plaza were closed, but the street was packed with drunken tourists, Thai hookers, small children selling flowers and food carts. Every time we turned a corner, groups of frisky Thais cheered “Hallo!”, called us pretty and tried to see up our skirts.
“Oh my god, Pong! This is what it must feel like to be the Justin Bieber!!! Hello everybody! I know, we are finally here!!!” Pong and I ran around from table to table, often dodging the occasional hooker from getting too grabby. 
Daniel was turning 20 shades of red as we held onto his arm and skipped down the street. “You guys! Oh my fucking god! This is the craziest shit I have ever done!” Only 20 minutes before, he was complaining about how bored he was at Narz... you can’t please some people I guess.
A tiny girl selling roses was following us after our second lap around the plaza. She got more and more aggressive, trying to tear my beautiful pink dress off of me. I threw my second ping pong ball at her, but it didn’t deter her in the slightest. She chased me around a taxi a few times until I finally jumped in and held the door shut. Daniel and Pong got in and we told the driver to take us to the late night model bar, Mixx. 
I’d only been to Mixx once before. I forgot to bring my comp card then and wasn’t in their system yet, so the Thai lady with satan-red color-contacts told me to wait until the usual models were checked in. “You’re really a model?” She said that last time... I pulled a comp card out of the tank top I was using for boobs and put it on the counter. “This is you?! ...Okay, hold on”

After about ten minutes the owner of the club came out and grabbed me. He was a short, bald white guy and I gasped loudly when he grabbed my arm. The people in the normal line for the club were all watching. “Yo, sorry kid but you’re not coming in dressed like this. You’re going to have to get out of the way now” My seester had already gone inside. I felt scared and alone. At least Daniel was still with me. “No. Move back more, against this railing you’re blocking a main thoroughfare.”
I decided not to break character, “I do not know what a thoroughfare is, Meester. But this is a not fair! I am obvbiosuly too pretty for this bar!”
“Just stand back against the rail, you little freak.”
“Queek! Daniella, get my seester pong! PLEASE! He has a my purse.” Daniel ran inside and grabbed Sergio, who gave me my wallet and phone. He offered to leave with me but I told him I was ready to go home anyways. I had cut the backs out of my shoes and was dancing around with my heels on the bare floor the whole night. “It is okay my seester, you go inside and make party. Are you okay without me? Do you need to sleep over?” 
“No is okay. I find me a lady friend. I will get even with them tonight, don't you not worry, honey.” Pong whispered in my ear what he planned on doing... 

“Oh you lesbians are so disgusteeng! But wait I need to do one more thing. Tell them I need my comp card back” 
I wasn’t sure how to exact my revenge on the little bald white man running the show at this club. I wanted to ask him why he let’s hundred of hookers roam around his bar, but not a true lady like myself. I wanted to tell him that he’s a loser who has to pay models to hang out at his club, who still won’t even talk to him once they’re inside. I wanted to ask him when was the last time he didn’t have to pay for sex... but then I asked myself, “What would buddha do?
I pulled the last ping pong ball out of Pong’s purse and popped it in my mouth. I tapped the bald owner on the shoulder, trying not to cry, and pointed to my comp card. He handed me the folded-up card and I took it, making whimpering noises when he made eye-contact with me. I froze. 
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He snarked. After a quick pause, I shot the ping pong ball from my mouth with a POP and it smacked him in the eye! He wiped off his face and yelled as I ran away, “You know what?! You are banned! Got that? BANNED!” He turned around to the red-eyed chick and asked  “Who was that guy?!” She was laughing and shrugged. 
Once back on the street, it felt incredibly awkward to be a ladyboy without my lesbian seester at my side. I got in the first cab home and found two of the Russians from my agency banging on the couch in the lobby. 
It wasn’t until I was staggering in front of my door did I realize that I had left my keys in Pong’s purse. The night wasn’t officially over until I took off my leopard-print flats and scrambled out the window of the elevator lobby in my pink dress. I had to climb across two sets of balconies before I could break into my apartment through the sliding glass door. 
The next morning I got a text from Captain beautiful. “Oh my god man you won’t believe what happened! I made out with a GUY! This is SO crazy right, I was so fucked up!” Sergio said it was with the Mexican guy who was trying to grab our cocks all night. Captain Beautiful uploaded pictures from the party by noon, but didn’t include any with Ping or Pong...   
The recovery in the morning was slow, and I still haven’t been able to wash off the scent of shame that is bound to follow any particularly good night.
Until next time, 
Love Only.


You know you're in SouthEast Asia when...

-Everyone looks at you as if “sucker” is tattooed on your forehead
-Massages are called Massageys and cost $6/hr
-Ladyboy is a compliment
-Starving slavic and latino models roam the streets in herds of 20 or more
-They sell squid flavored chips at 7-11
-You can get grilled squid from any street vendor
-Street vendors offer you massagey
-Subway etiquette is very different, to say the least
-You can rent a human for the day for about $30
-You can rent a model for the day for about $100
-You see people living in the jumbled power lines
-It costs more to ship souvenirs home than it does to buy them
-They sell pingpong balls at 7-11, but no paddles.
-Pingpong balls are sold in sets with lube
-Taxis don’t stop for you because you’re white
-Prada shoes cost $30 (pronounced ‘Plada’)
-Restaurants have a special “Happy Time” menu
-the poor-people mall offers designer stores like Emporio Amani, Tommy Hilfigure, and Abercrumby
-McDonald’s sells red-bean or corn pie instead of apple pie
-Clients at castings offer you massagey (if they like you)
-Temples feature Buddah sculptures made up of $50million in gold... and also starving babies and cripples on the street out front.
-You can ride a motorcycle taxi... on the sidewalk.
-You’re abroad, but don’t have to pretend to be Canadian
-Happy Meals come with very happy endings. Just like this blog. 


What would Buddha do? AKA The PingPong Ball Trick

In light of Buddhas birthday (last Monday), it seems best to share an experience from last week where yours truly exercised some Buddha-like strength of will. 

Thailand hasn’t exactly been what I expected so far. First and foremost, there hasn’t been a single monkey running around in the streets... most likely the stray dogs have eaten them all. 
The models at my agency are a nice bunch, but aren’t nearly as tight nit as the adventure-crew from Shanghai two years ago. We are each in our own studio apartments in a building that requires a taxi to get anywhere interesting. WM is a high fashion agency full of Russians and eastern Europeans, making me the token ‘commercial-guy’ and local heavyweight at a whopping 165lbs. It’s slow-going right now anyways. I’ve had an editorial booking on my second day, but since then just one casting. 

“Do you guys want to work out?” “No” 

“Want to go to a temple?” “No.”

“Massages?” “No” Got to love their honesty. 

“Want to go party?” “Yeah okay we can do that”

To make matters worse, I'm in a long distance relationship that currently involves not speaking. As anyone of who knows me can imagine, the meanest thing you can do to me is leave me alone. It’s on the road where you face your demons however, and where else can you find a nice meaty dragon but in the Orient (is that offensive or just cliche?)

The situation provides the best of both worlds, since I’m still not seeing other people (sorry, LadyBoys). This arrangement combines my first love of being alone/celibate with my second love of being without constant moral support (and my third love of being moronically sarcastic!). The purpose of this blog is not to solicit your pity, I swear, it’s to recount the various trails my buddha-like patience has undergone during my first week in Thailand (translation: the purpose of this blog is to boast. Have I really not told you how amazing and patient and sweet I am by now?!)
Those familiar with this blog know that my favorite way to deal with heartbreak is to mess with foreigners (yep, they’re still foreigners here) and seek out dangerous situations. This tale will prove to be no different, as long as I can stop whining about my life and get to the story (have I told you how hard my life is?)

It all started with a Pussy PingPong show... actually, that’s where it ended. It started at 3pm, when the other members of my agency were waking up. By 7pm everyone had showered and eaten and were ready to take on the day! It was Andre the Russian, Kristoff the Czech, his girlfriend Natalija from Poland and I. We got another round of beers and sped off in a TukTuk.
The driver brought us to PatPong at about 9pm. Thai people seem to be very patient with us, compared to the locals encountered in China two years ago. We were screaming “PATPONG PINGPONG!” for a moment when the driver looked back and smiled, “You like Ping Pong??” 

He handed us what looked like a menu with the “Super Pussy Club” at the top. The selection was incredible! Everything from ‘ladygirl-on-ladygirl’ to ‘ladyboy-on-coke-bottle’ was available at a happy hour entry fee of 100baht (around $3). It was barely dark, so therefore too early for Pussy PingPong... We paid our driver and decided to walk around the market. 
After loading up on feaux RayBans and knockoff Banksy art shirts, we decided it was time for the PingPong show. Within 10 seconds we had a man on the street with a similar menu as our driver escorting us into a narrow stairway with broken lights and chipping paint. “You see for free, if no like no pay, okay?” The smiling dark man opened the door to a dark room filled with Asian women wearing American flag bikinis. They jumped up and down and shook the tassels on their tops (that’s all they had to shake) and motioned for us to sit down. We were the only Farang (white people) in the room. Two fat naked women (women?) gyrated onstage, flanked by two more skinny girls in American flag bikinis. A small, wide, fully-clothed woman sat at the bar with her arms crossed. We tried to take a picture of ourselves but the girls immediately screamed bloody murder.

They started playing what I think was a the theme song from Pokemon and the girls started dancing. “Do you like PooSee?” The fat girls chirped. We all screamed as they brought us a round of 100baht Heinekens. The first fat girl laid down on the stage and put her legs over the side. One of the American flag LadyGirls brought out a cigarette and asked us for a light. Without a volunteer, they simply grabbed Krystoff from his seat. He pretended to resist until Natalija gave permission. She leaned over to me and said “I am fucking coolest girlfriend ever. He better know.” Krystoff lit the cigarette stuck in the chubby PooSee and within 15 seconds the whole thing was ash. She came around with a tip bucket and a sign asking us for 100baht each and refused to start the next show until she collected at least $6. The fat lady with a strange voice sat down next to me for the following performance. I put my hand over the pocket with my phone and wallet. It must be tough to be a stripper whose client recoils in horror upon touching them.

The following shows were pretty similar. They played the Happy Birthday song and brought out a styrofoam birthday cake. Giggly Girl #2 blew stuck a straw down there and took the whole cake out from almost two feet away! She came around with the tip bucket and eventually walked backstage. 

“This is so sad. Why do we support this?” Natalija moaned. 

“She’s right. We only want to see PingPong” Andre agreed.

Naked Girl #2 came back onstage with a cloth flower dangling out of herself. As if performing a magic trick (Where COULD that string be coming from?!) she pulled the string out further and further until the American Flag girls brought it to me and commanded to pull. About 5 or 10 razor blades popped out before the trick was finally over. I thought I was going to throw up. Girl #1 shoved the bucket in my face, “You pull rope, you pay 500 baht!” I put a hundred in the bucket and she grumbled. 

“Okay guys we need to ask for the PingPong show so we can say we saw it and get out of here...” We chanted “PING PONG PING PONG!” until Girl #1 came to the stage with a new set of 6 orange pinpong balls and chalice full of lubricant. 

Natalija got up “I can’t do this” she went for the door but the cross-armed lady wearing clothes roughly redirected her to the bar. The guys and I went over to her and immediately the room full of hookers sprinted to get between us and the door. The cross-armed lady smiled cooly and said “You must settle your bill before you go”. Good, she can speak English. She thought for a moment, wrote a couple things on the bill and put it on the bar. The total came to 8,100 baht, over $250! 

“This is rediculous. I’ll give you 500baht for our beers and we’re going to go.” I put a 500-note on the bar and it was snatched up in a second and pocketed. We tried to leave but the girls started hitting us and pushing us backwards. The lady never uncrossed her arms, she just elbowed the shit out of Natalija and I screaming “You no pay you no leave! You pay more money I call police!” So much for speaking English. She dialed a number, said a few words and hung up. 

“Okay I call tourist police” Less than a week in Thailand and I’m speaking Pigeon. Great. I dialed the tourist police number but they blasted the Pokemon theme song so loud I couldn’t hear a thing. 

Andre said “This bullshit!” and tried to make a run for it. He was pummeled by one of the naked fat girls and elbowed once in the face by the cross armed lady. Over a dozen girls were hooting and shrieking at us. Andre was about to fight back so I grabbed him in a bear hug and yelled at him to cool it. 

After about 5 minutes of tough negotiating I gave the madam another 1000 baht, signed the bill (My signature read “fuck you” in cursive) and got out to the street. The team of ladies cheered a victory cheer as we left and that was it. The street vendors outside were laughing at us as we exited. We went to the McDonald’s across the street and washed our hands. 

“That was some happy hour” I announced. After all, it was only about $14/pp to have a Heineken and a PooSee show... that’s the going rate for a drink in Miami WITHOUT a PooSee show, so I was happy to treat my friends to a beer and a near-death experience... even if we didn’t get to see the PingPong Ball trick.  
I hope this tale has shown you how much spiritual growth I’ve achieved in just my first week in Amazing Thailand. I highly recommend the PingPong show to anyone visiting... it’s the only place in Bangkok where you’re going to see wildlife for sure.

Until the next chapter, Love Only. 
Max V