Life - right now

I know, most of us think life is lurking around somewhere next door. But you know what? It is most often around you, hugging you, kissing you, fucking you gently and quietly whispering: "We are alive and in love" :)

Ping Pong

I woke up early this morning. I felt very happy. I had a gorgeous boy lying in my room. He is actually hot. In a special sort of way. You know, a boy next door but such warmth and genuineness emanates from him… If he would not live fucking other side of the globe I would probably ask him to marry me. Well, maybe that’s too early to say J

Earlier last week we had gone to see a Ping Pong show. You know, old tarts stuffing weird stuff to their cunts. If you’ve seen a cunt before you would be surprised. But what reactions did they get from the audience. Straight guys were looking like tinkering: “have I fucked that!” and gay guys going “oh for fuck sakes, this is exactly why I am proud to be gay!” and women… well, the either laughed or puked. My close straight female friend could not watch half of the show. She really felt dreadfully ill.

So what are these ping pong shows? Well I shall enlighten you.

Setting the scene one:

First you select old females to dance around in a podium built into the middle of some ghastly and

snotty bar filled with cigarette smoke and half-lighted up with old neon lights.

Secondly you ask people to pay obscene prices for their cheap locally brewed beer or cocktails made from concentrated juices, fake Vodka Podka, and flat mixers.

Thirdly, you ask people to gather around the podium in awe. The more the merrier.

This is the setting for the show. I forgot to mention you did drive to some God forsaken joint where the only transportation back to the city is provided by the establishment for a very hospitable price. Say, half of what you happen to have.

Setting the scene two:

First tart arrives almost naked. She’s smiling without any visible teeth and the effect is bringing the audience to a halt. She starts her act by nodding to the audience. The she smiles to the north and sticks out her behind to south. And she orthodoxically repeats the act in all main directions. We all get a share of her cunt and toothless smile. The place started to have a cheerful feel. This is repeated before every act.

After the start ritual weird things start pouring out of those poor pussies. Flowers, serpentine, fluffy toys… followed by needles, razorblades, round shaped things I couldn’t make out what they were. Well that wasn’t all. Then come the weird stuff. One of the ladies stuffed two cigarettes up hers and started huffing and puffing. It was my time to throw up. Have I seen a sight like that in my life – like ever? NO! It was absolutely horrendous! How can there be such things in this universe!

And the show continues. Next flushing down the pipe came a shoal of gold fish (a bloody tank full of gold fish!) At that point my friend fall of from her chair.  We laughed – at her. Gold fish followed by turtles and frogs. One of the girls with small frogs inside her did have a bit of struggle there but there they came pomping alive as ever! After that the show was over, our drinks done and then …. A long bumpy way back home to our hotel. Gosh, disgusting!

I turned around and check my friends butt but it was still nice, small and definitely not loose. No frogs, no turtles, no gold fish… ah, but he was a guy, gay and unbelievably cute! J

Cheerio! J

Watch (out)

Yesterday I arrived to Bangkok with some of my friends. I’ve been soooo busy! J

It is probably not a wonder my blog’s name is “Fucking Factory” as I started writing it here in Bangkok. It is just amazing how much of it there is - right here. In every street corner, almost every alleyway, in malls, in hotels and even in the bars you’ll get a chance for a happy ending.

We visited Sirocco bar last night - the 64^th floor roof top bar of the Lebua Hotel. First night ever I truly felt I was unfortunate to not to be a woman. I wanted to walk on 13cm high heels and in wear a stunning night gown down those stairs accompanied by the hottest man in the city. Well as it happens I am not a woman – and so, that hottest man of the city did not make his appearance either. Well I had my lovely friends with me which made it all up.

After having some drinks we took off and went to Silom Soi 4. It is a gay strip of a street full with gay bars. Couple of my other new friends joined us too. It’s amazing how you meet such a great bunch of people while travelling.

We had an interesting chat about lux watches yesterday. We talked with one of my friends about the reasons of wearing a lux watch - or just a watch, whatever. You know Rolex, Piaget, Omega Breguet, Blancpain, Patek Philippe etc…  Personally, I haven’t worn a watch since 1985 when I realized it gives you tan lines, yeah I was around 5 but already then quite particular about tan lines. Watches also make your wrist sweat. It is always hanging on your clothes.  Weather when you take your shirt of, when you put on or take of your jacket or overcoat - and you always think you might lose it if you misplace it. Watches also come with weird combination of materials and colors, you know silly things like; gold, diamonds, silver, platinum, leather, stainless steel, white gold, rubies etc… almost always in combination of more than few of the latter mentioned. So how do you combine them with simple silver attire, gold or metallic accessory collections? Well, I truly do not know. I have not even tried.

 

For me watches stand for old status symbols – nothing to do with fashion. Who wears watches anymore these days! Nice Balmain’s wristband is so much nicer. And hey, you don’t necessarily have to spend a penny less! And better yet, when you loose them you only lost a leather wristband with some nicely bent aluminium...

But, these luxury houses keep buying watch houses. Why, because if you can create a silly story like Philippe Patek's: "You never actually own a Patek Philippe, you merely look after it for the next generation", you can make a fortune! Not you, the seller. Catchy, and good advertising though, but honey, it's a watch! Could Samsung and LG come up with similar slogans please! I want my f**ing fridge and washer last more than a year!

Many do though

My friend told me that Rolex is not that copied in Australia. So, getting a Rolex replica from China or Thailand is worth the 50 dollars one needs to pay for the fakes. And, they are so good copies that without thorough inspection you couldn’t make out the difference. He told me the service he gets in restaurants, after placing his hand on the table and asking for something special, is always flawless. He’s got style, he’s got money, and he is wearing a Rolex! Phew! 

When I sit down to a restaurant I do it with my incessant leer. First, they cannot take their eyes off from mine, and secondly, they cannot say no to any small and modest wishes. I mean what does it cost for a small joint to offer a meager salary earner like me a complimentary bottle of Bollinger Blanc de Noir, eh? Yes, I do it with my eyes! :)

My other friend has a Philippe Patek watch. Fake as well. He wears it like most women here their fake Luis Vuitton bags. And do I consider that elegant?

One of my friends has a large watch collection. You know expensive watches. I asked him why. “Well, I have either inherited them or bought them as investments,” he told me and continues “I don’t wear them really because they are too expensive and it would be distasteful to show up in a watch, which is some ones three years’ salary (before the taxes).” What a predicament! “Why then?” I asked. He continued that some people collect art, some clothes, some watches. “You see, it’s not all that different” he said and looked a bit sad. “Okay, so if you are a collector I understand. But if you are saying that you’d wear them only in rare occasions like during total solar eclipses and only were there no common or poor people around ... I do have to say it’s probably not worth it.” He looked at me and snorted. “Whatever…”

So watches are a bore. ...Unless of course you are boring and have no idea what to tie around your wrist that is.

I am waiting for my date to arrive. He is sooooo handsome! But, if he is wearing a watch I am going to give him a boot. First of course I will check if it is a fake. Fake gives an automatic boot. If it is not, I have to correct him that I am in a wrong pay grade and would highly recommend him to leave the table before I need to reveal something far more disturbing news about myself... J

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Change of scenery

Oh, fantastic three days of absolute bliss behind and I have pretty much nothing worthwhile to say… J Eh, well…

Gulf of Thailand in front of me with tens of its islands, emerald blue sea greeting me with a gentle faint breeze... Oh what a bliss indeed! Piano concerto’s playing in the background as loud as these Bose’s could muster and all the sliding doors in this villa sled open. A wind played its little play with white see-through curtains and I thought for a moment that I had landed on to heaven. No, not heaven - not quite yet.

Fourth night to come and whole day still ahead I felt supercharged. I hadn’t done anything worth mentioning for three days. Grilling under the sun, getting tanned, was hard work it did take its toll. I really felt rested but at the same time quite worked out. You know, at the same time feeling absolutely nacked and rested one just wanted to sit tight and relax. “Stepheeeeeen, bring me a Vodka Tonic!” Nothing happened; well maybe he’d hoisted himself into a flagpole. Anything darling, anything to get away from my loving arms… Phew, that poor bastard was most probably still sleeping in upstairs. Why do people sleep and waste whole days’ worth of sun without any particularly good reason. You can take “cloud” when it’s raining, but right now I preferred to be at our infinity little pool and see the magnificent views and write about it while tanning myself. See, one can show little productiveness in action if one just spends a little time before to plan it all.

 

Oh well. Concerto Pour Piano N1 En by Emil Gilels’s playing in the background and the rest of the gang somewhere I had whole downstairs for myself. Gosh I enjoyed being alone music turned to north. Being Gary had been fun so I decided there and then that being Alexander could be great too. I amassed myself a harem of boys and felt like little tart in a Sunday tea & cake party - the biggest one of course. Past days had been fun – well grilling in the evenings at the big patio and swimming during the day. I had not had this much laughter since… well few months!

I need to plan my evening now. What shall I invent for tonight? I guess more boys could do. Yes, sounds like a great idea – and why not, it’s mine! J  

Cheerio J

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It's always worth a try dudes!

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We were at Simon Cabaret on Friday night here in Phuket. You know 30 lady boys and 30 Thai guy’s cabaret show - all playbacks. It was funny. My girlfriend said it’s pretty sad she could spend any number of hours making herself look pretty but would still look less fortunate than those lady boys. I confronted her stating she had a real pussy – for better or worse. She looked at me like chewing over what I just said, nodded and looked back towards the stage. After a moment she turned back to me and whispered: “And I have much nicer boobs!” which she certainly had. “You know, tying a robe behind your head and taking a benji-jumb would lift your face a bit too…” I continued and faced a bolting bird just about to knock my head of like a good damned woodpecker. “Fuck you too,” she hissed.

I do have to wonder though. These guys dancing at the Cabaret looked more like faintly undulating snag of logs. Hands protruding out like some “extra” branches waiting to be smartened up for the party that ought to be following the performance… but no, still hanging there idle. “You know if they felt like dancing would they not take their hands to the party too?” My friend glanced at me and laughed. “Yeah, looks a bit dumb.”

I had to say the past two days of being Gary had been a blast. I never thought before being Gary could be so much fun. I know, Gary’s of this world remind you of beardy, hairy, bald, and chubby men on their 40’s. I made a much better Gary. And that French did agree. I truly hope the real Gary got a bang for himself too – I knew it couldn’t have been better but for the pity – and for gratitude. We had fucked 48hrs in a row excluding momentary feeding sessions, provided by discreet room service at our hotel. He flew out this morning – back to France, back to his girlfriend, back to misery.  I truly felt sorry for him and his poor pussy-bird. I hate dishonestly, I could never live with myself if I'd that be dishonest to anyone. Thus, I have refrained from making promises I cannot keep. That is as simple as that.

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I met a wonderful woman today at the poolside. She was having a short break from work with her daughter. Delightful company at the poolside where we emptied few glasses of wine (They call it wine here) or bottle or two. Well, one shouldn’t count what one drinks. The important thing was that we had a good laugh. She possessed this marvelous sense of humor and an eye for spotting gay guys at the poolside. It really helped a lot. I am not hopeless but not an expert either. Anything that moves is a potential target but you know all this wasted energy without properly targeting it is kind of useless. I needed a trained eye – and who’s better in spotting gays than women. Some women are hopeless in spotting gays. Some are inerrable. She was – well much better than a mediocre.

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Some of the poolside lobsters were horrendous. I think it’s really been a while since I’ve seen so many fat people at once. All supercharged into sunbathing chairs next to each other made this slick hotel pool area look like a meet store with lost lobsters tucked away into a remote location to burn to death - out of sight. Well they were not out of sight, they were THE sight - not a requested sight I must say but all lying shamelessly there regardless. Gosh I hated fat people – Could they just loose those extra pounds and look decent!

I emptied my (yes, I do not count anymore) glass and plunged in. I paddled to the end of the pool to see this nice guy down there. He’d seen me with my girlfriend at the pool area everyday so he unsuspectingly let me paddle all-too-close to him. We chatted and laughed. His girlfriend had gone to the beauty parlor and I suggested we’d go for a beer at my terrace which he agreed. He must have guessed what was in my mind because as I had closed the door behind me he had dropped his pants and asked if he could take a quick shower. I agreed to that with only one pre-requisite – I must accompany him. He winked and we took a shower. The rest is self-explanatory.

And no, it wasn't this one, hahaha!

Cheerio! J

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A day of beauty!

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I reserved today for total relaxation and rejuvenation. I know – you bitch! Haha, well once you’ve born as gay, why not taking an advantage of the best parts of being gay.

I woke up this morning and had another amazing breakfast at my shabby five star beach resort. My plan was very simple: First, one hour tanning without any sunscreen, then 3 hours with Lancaster Tan-deepener, 1km swim, then quick gym and shower. After that I was ready for treatments.

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I walked into Hanako beauty parlor. Got a seat and kicked back and relaxed. I choose a two hour facial massage with a gold mask.  My “girl” started with a cleaning-milk massaging it gently onto my face. After followed very light scrub and a vitamin C and aloe Vera concentrate massage (Phonophoresis). I had tried that before and it really gives you so nice complexion! I know, the gold mask is a bit excess on top of that but I just wanted that too. So there I was eyes closed in total relaxation.

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I was about to sleep and dream. I started counting sheep, jumping over some old fence, when I remembered lambs give me rash. So I decided I will count recent fucks. How many fucks had I really had during this little vacay – hmmm. Let’s start. Departing from the airport, check! Landing in the next airport, check! Arriving at destination and taking a cab to my hotel, unpacking completed, a jump to poolside, shower, and check! Little bit sunbathing, tuna salad with fresh mineral water from Tasmania, turning around, taking sun onto my back, asking a guy next chair to apply the lotion, smile, running upstairs, check! … Oh and that was just the first 48hours… Gosh, I’ve been busy! I got to the 4^th day when I became conscious of the fact that my girl was rubbing my nostrils. “Excuse me!! “ I screeched. I heard a distant “sorry, sorry” and those hands were gone. Phew, don’t you just hate when someone is stuffing fingers to your nostrils! Well, I don’t like it! And now, where was I… Yes, on my fifth day…

I felt my girl’s hands rubbing my neck and shoulders… “Rise please,” she said. And I did. What? Was it over already? Apparently yes. I turned and faced the mirror on the opposite wall. Oh yes, quite finished indeed. I looked like a little boy, a 2^nd year student from College. From what I could tell my treatment had worked like a charm! And I felt amazing!

I slowly rose up from the treatment chair and after my girl had helped me to put my shoes on I walked slowly and graciously out two ladies keeping both class doors open for me. Mmm, I felt great!

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Next, pedicure, manicure, and foot massage. I went to my favorite place in town where I was greeted with Thai bows and Thai smiles. Oh so enchanting! Nothing compares to the beauty of Thai women in beauty parlors when they put that smile on their face and do the traditional hand & head bow. I responded in my gawky way and blushed for which they responded with a friendly giggle. You know those dodgy Thai massage places where you walk past and 25 girls scream at you “Masssaaaaaaaage mister massaaageeee – vely shiiiiiip for uuuuuu?” Well, this wasn’t that sort of place. This one was classy – one which I can really recommend to friends.

Two and half hours passed quickly and before I noticed I was back on my feet walking out of the door. Only difference was of course that I had shiny nails on my hands and feet, all four felt like baby’s butt and I felt overall like a butterfly -so light were my feet I could just take a few steps and speed into a fly. Oh a perfect day and not even done yet!  

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Next treatment was a 1hrs full-body rose-salt scrub followed by 1hrs sport massage ending to a one and half hour oil massage. By the time I got out it was 23:00 and I was so exhausted of the day’s activities I had to go to sleep. I really had had a long and tiring day… but, I would sleep like a little baby tonight. No fucks today, but hey, tomorrow is a new day!

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I was walking towards my room at the top floor when a door opened. A French looking guy popped his head out. Messy brown lightly curled hair just enough to reach his shoulders, little moustage under jawbone, bright eyes, long and tanned face, and smooth and aesthetic lips –full and so sexy. He looked first the other direction, then directly into my eyes, and asked: “Are you Gary?” I couldn’t breathe for a second but instinctively answered “Yes,” to his question (Honey, I can be whatever you want!). He opened the door a bit wider and motioned me to follow him into his room. He lowered his pants and looked straight into my eyes. “I have a girlfriend you know, so this must be a totally secret okay?” I hummed yes to him, kneeled down and placed that magnificent Bratwurst into my mouth.

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We had amazing sex. After 3 hours and just before the sunrise, lying on our backs and watching stars I fell asleep his dick in my mouth. My big pacifier found its long lost home! The day had been absolutely perfect. I had no guilt over ruining some sad fuckheads date – this was destiny’s calling. I felt him next to me. He rubbed his chin to my hair and growled gently in his sleep. Mmm, good nighty!

And this story continues… 

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I feel a bit weird today

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I feel a bit weird today. I do not seem to have appetite for sex. Can’t be my medication (I don’t have any) or weather (hasn't had a negative effect on my libido - ever), nor can it be this recent abundance of sex. I don’t know what it is. This feeling is quite weird indeed. Maybe I need to re-read the manual: “Being a Man”, written by no-one else than … ME! Sometimes hot weather makes me drowsy. It could be that. But, as soon as the aircon hits on I am fine – at least normally. Yep, I still need to try that one out a bit later.

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Did you know, when a guy doesn’t feel like having sex he's said to have a low libido? When a woman doesn’t want sex it’s because she’s having a head ache, menstruation period, or because she’s just so awfully tired – continuing with a list of possible other excuses. Yeah. And gay guys, well, if you are so run down by days festivities you can't spare a damn hand to your boyfriend then there's definitely something wrong there.  

What excuses do men have?

Well, if I would have a boyfriend he would not be a “bottom-only” guy as I wrote here previously. You see, having a hard day at the office, then heavy training at the gym, then going to a department stores food courts and carry out truckloads of groceries home, and then, waiting on your kitchen table is a bare ass looking for a bang of its life. Dude, sorry. 

I just want to kick back and relax – you’ll do the heavy lifting while I am giving you the butt!

Yes, guy’s excuse can be simple, honest and very believable. We can admittedly just be tired. Now that’s exactly what I don’t like in “coupled-up’s lives”. I can’t pre-plan my occurrences of urgent need for sex. I happen to know when I feel like it – but I can’t pre-plan it. And having a schedule for sessions is a turn off – at least for me.

So, what to do about it?

I think I am onto something. Is this the reason I don’t want to get coupled up or married? Or maybe there are several other reasons I just haven’t uncovered yet. Suddenly I started to be afraid of my precious routines!

You see, I love my routines. I have daily routines, which motivate me, keep me fit, happy and energetic. But then I knowingly do not plan certain things like when to have sex – and it has worked out, so far – perfectly for me.

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I turned to my friend and asked whether she plans when she’s going to have sex. “What?” she responded from the other end of the pool and continued: “I never have sex!” Well, not much use of that insight for this discussion then…couple of old biddies looked at our direction disapprovingly. I gave a snort, turned my back and put my arm under my cheek while the other one was scratching my ass - on display for the ladies.

While I am writing this I got really horny. Oh no, not because of the old ladies. No, I was thinking the guy I had last night. Not his face, or even his cock, but his body. It was so cuddly! 

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We went to movies and reserved a “sofa” for two. I have to admit I can’t recall half of the movie but the sofa did prove to be a perfect setting for cuddling. I am sooooo really in need again! Gosh, and I didn’t even need an aircon! Gotta go now, plunge into the pool and hit the road with my precious Honda ST1300 ABS! (joke, i am driving a freaking Vespa!) 

Cheerio! J

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OMG!

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I run out to have my breakfast this morning. My friend said she’s going to join me a bit later. Morning was absolutely beautiful. No cloud in the sky – ocean breeze gently padding my shoulders. I ordered my usual breakfast menu: Omelet with spring onion, onion, little cubes of tomato’s and sweet red peppers, 4 fried eggs, nicely cut pineapple, papaya, guava and watermelon pieces and a cup of coffee. Gosh I love breakfasts - especially with an unobstructed sea-view!

Suddenly I remembered last time I was travelling. I was missing my friend at a breakfast table. I gave her a buzz but she didn’t reply. And then, there she was, walking towards my table – face all red.

“You never going believe this, I am so embarrassed,” she started. “Oh my God I am sooo embarrassed!”

“What? What happened?”

“Well you see when you left I went to the toilet and you know I had a poo and…”

I cut her short. “You went to a poo and you are telling me this???” I waved my hand dismissively and burst “I am not interested!”

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“No, no, that’s not the point. I mean it is, but it’s not THE point!”

My friend who is small and petite looked so fragile. She looked so dreadfully lost I had to give her the benefit of a doubt and let her continue with her ‘poo story’…

“You see the poo was so big it did not go down the drain when I flushed it so I flushed again. And the water started pouring out of the toilet… I opened the front door and went looking for a cleaning lady.

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 I found one doing the room next door.” She took a deep breath and then continued. “You see I tried to explain her what had happened, but that poor girl didn’t understand a word in English so I tried to describe with my hands a big poo. I showed an arm’s length of poo and showed as if floor was a toilet and big poo there and water flooding everywhere. She still didn’t understand a thing so I motioned her to follow me to my room.” 

My friend waved her hand in demonstration of how it had happened. It looked a bit queer but I nodded and let her continue.

“So, we went to my room and I opened the door to the bathroom. I opened the toilet seat cover and pointed at my huge big poo. By then of course the water level had gone down and the only thing the poor girl could see was, it really was, a giant twirl of a poo covering half of the toilet. I motioned the girl to come closer as I was about to flush the toilet again. I flushed the toilet and pointed my finger on top of the flushing water. Look, look,” I said.

“That little girl looked so puzzled and incredulous, she obviously didn’t understand what I was about to demonstrate.” My friend took a deep breath and looked directly at me. “You know what happened next?”

“No idea. But I am sure you’ll undoubtedly tell me,” I said.

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She looked at me. Like a cat just after forced to take a shower. “Nothing! Nothing happened! You see, nothing happened, I flushed the toilet and the poo went down the drain just normally! The girl looked at me pointedly and hissed loudly: “You VERY VERY BAD GIRL!” and run out of my room!

I looked at my friend and burst into tears, I was laughing so much I couldn’t stop. “OMG, indeed, ha-ha, you VERY VERY BAD GIRL!” J Gosh I am happy I had done my breakfast already! J

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Traveling in “style”

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I remember what traveling was say 5 years back. You found a nice peaceful and quiet boutique hotel. You checked-in in silence. Bell-boys well versed in English took your luggages and carried them to your room. The days when hotels where places of tranquility – where one could sink into one of the carefully selected design chairs and let the world outside pass by – are over? Traveling was, if not indulgence, a more expensive hobby than simply taking your car for a weekend road trip or going for a "vacay" to the next town. Cheap airline tickets, high oil prices and the rise of Asian tigers changed all that. Now every place is infested with newly rich but still quite common people.

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I also remember airlines. The amazing feeling of being escorted to your seat, being kindly smiled at and serviced fully, like your precious Bentley (lol) if you so wished. Fellow passengers were adequately distant and kept quiet out of politeness. I remember the times when I could have a smoke on-board the plane and airhostesses would kindly offer me light with a glass of champagne. I remember luggages, those well manufactured leather cases. Taking them with you to the airline was a no-brainer. Long past are those days. Now airlines are infested with small and lardy people, who are noisy and look unclean. Most of them carry everything they probably own with them all the way to the plane (as hand-luggage!) and stuff themselves next to you - huffing and puffing like the air is going to run out for some queer reason. And champagne? Hahah, I know, I must be joking! We are hardly serviced water these days! Luggages are destroyed on sight – so the best thing to do is to re-purpose your old leather cases to hold some nice magazines and a lamp on top of them back home.

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What changed in hotels – really? Can you honestly walk into any joint in this world anymore in peace! It is practically almost impossible to find a peaceful lux place without new rich people of the growing nations. They fill nice joints by crawling in from the doors and windows. You can’t hide from them. They are ever present with their constant noise and buzzing. Even a proper noise cancelling headphones would not save you from the above ground Hell they create where-ever, and when-ever they travel. 

And why do they have to be so rude! I mean honestly, a nod when you see a person walking by isn’t insuperable hurdle. And you know what, when you are checking-in or checking-out anyone or anything coming to barge-in to ask some stupid questions is not just irritating – it is a fucking nightmare! “Get your fucking face out of my sight!”

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And how about breakfasts! Ordering breakfast to your room isn’t nice. By the time it all arrives (if they got it right- which is doubtful as none –anywhere - speak proper English anymore) it is all stale. So breakfast rooms it is. There, first arrives a fat, hairy, bigmouthed Arab man, then a thin veiled fragile women followed by 5 dark brown babies all equipped with toy guns and a cheeky inhospitable smiles. 

Then, strolls in 55 small Chinese comrades with their AdiBas t-shirts and Luis Fuitton bags accompanied by 110 cameras in motion. On the left hand side, the doors open, you hear mur mur, and loud “Priviett”, and a harem of the ugliest men and most gorgeous pumped up Barbara dolls arrive with louder than life row. And just when you thought you could turn your head and run away, you are surrounded by loud Indians who complain about the color of the napkins, temperature of the room and the shape of the breakfast egg before them – and that is before they turn and realize they had arrived to a lounge area. Of course, just before closing arrives Australians - decibels hitting the ceiling. Once you finally though it's all over arrive five Essex girls wearing (wrong word I know) nothing proper on them - lipstick covering half their face and mascara dropping to their teapots. Idiots in motion!

But it isn’t over yet! When all of them have crawled back to their rooms for fiesta or siesta arrive those red faced English tarts followed by Swedes still half-drunk from last night (infamous Swedish blond girls still in bed suffering from hang-over of being too beautiful last night). Their noses verge on ceiling and they are just about to stumble on their own feet when the Germans arrive with their huge black plastic bags and empty whatever was left in the buffet table.  Finally slide in Americans, group of four, carried by a tractor. Those lardy asses sweep anything and anyone close by and with their big wide mouths they empty whatever was left on the table after the Germans depleted the food supply. Their discussion is loud and every second sentence is to do with some kind of complaint. Whatever they do not know or understand is well positioned to be subject of nagging. Yes, things have changed.  

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And in the airports?

You know the concept of queues? Well Indians do not. Queue is a fantastic construct which sweeps away redundant people out of your way so you can cut into the front to ask some trivial questions. “Yes, but I want, dthis is nodth nice behavior. I will make a complaindt. Whod ids your boss. Du you know dthat dthis is nodht good adth all!” and how blatantly obvious their obnoxiousness is people still smile at them – kindly. But - go to puke afterwards. You’ve got to appreciate new money.

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And how about Chinese? Like Japanese, they carry cameras anywhere, they come with their own food supplies (I don’t even want to think what’s in those sachets), and they look always like lost in some space vacuum eyes rolling here and there and in groups of 10 or more they mop the floors clean of dust and other questionable objects. And Russians? If they’ve been in the airport before it’s been the departure lounge McDonald’s or Gucci – or both! Speaking not a word of English they are pretty incredible people – being able to travel around the world without understanding a thing. Okay, once you actually get to know them they are pretty nice people – but the language is a barrier.

They also used to have nice Lounges in the airport. Now lounges are full of these multiplying lemmings that fan mediocrity where ever they go. Where is the “class” and “classy”! Oh, these days, on-board private jets only I am afraid.

What to do?

You have pretty much two options:

1. Roll over and die my darlings! Or book a gay “LUX” holiday! Tranquility without children, straight couples, fat or ugly people! Did you know you can even choose an age-bracket of fellow travelers? Same goes for nationalities you want to share the hotel with, and – maybe soon also, there is the dickometer. Oh splendor!

2. Sit back and relax. This is life. Take a deep breath and smile. You were looked at just like that few years back. This is progress. The more people travel, the more people see the world and more educated they are - the better place this world will be.

I wonder how travel will change in the next 10 years!

I am off to fuck. Gosh I need a good session! J

Cheerio J   

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“If I could turn back time…”

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If I could turn back time

If I could find a way I’d take back those words that hurt you and you’d say…

Rest of the lyrics from our famous never old dame

 

Well, frankly speaking, I don’t want to turn back the time. Do you?

I could iron out some of the budding wrinkles on my forehead but, hey, there is Botox for that.  When I look at teen boys it does not make me feel I want to be back “there”. I’ve been there already, years ago. When I was at their age I had fun. But I had fun because I experienced it for the first time. Having to grow up and do all that all over again doesn’t really sound that swell when you are looking at it from my angle. Being 30 is great. Best time of my life - so far! But why are we so obsessed with youth and turning back time to change things that are bygones already. I am STILL having fun, everyday! No regrets and fun is just getting better every year.

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I guess I am fortunate. Many people have few or more things they would like to change if they only could. But would those people be what they are without those actions… reminds me of “the Butterfly Effect” starring Ashton Kutcher... I think, we are better left what we’ve got.

I guess few people want to be old! Well I know few who do, but statistically speaking most do not. So we live with what we’ve done and what we've got. If we’d spend our time pondering about getting old, then we’d miss all the fun of now. And we only live once so we better live every single day – in full. 


Some of my gay friends are drearily negative. They complain about getting old and the more they do so the more old they look. Being old is a mental state of mind. Well, at least for me. And I do not feel a bit old. It must be the abundance of sex! Active sex life keeps you virile!

Well there are of course other things that can help to lift your spirit up. For example, this is my view where I am currently sitting and writing:

Splendid, isn’t it. Currently nothing is obscuring my view. I am looking at the Andaman Sea. Sipping my Caffe Americano and picking at my chocolate cake. Life is great! Not sure if it could be any better. I mean of course one could make a list of things one needs and wants but honestly – I don’t really need anything more right now.

Sea breeze, water fountain on my left, enough battery in my computer to finish this posting and motorcycle upstairs waiting to get on to the road later on this afternoon. And, I can’t wait to ask that cute guy sitting on a table upstairs terrace to join the ride – behind me :)

Cheerio! J

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Why do gay guys have small … dogs?

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Size of the dick is the measure of man's manhood. Like with dogs, the smaller the dog, the snappier the dog... ;-) So when a gay guy is choosing its dog what does he want to tell us with his selection?

There are few things a guy wants from his dog in addition to the fact that he wants his dog to express his personal style. So, what to consider in the selection process? Color, size, sex and breed are probably the most important attributes. Some select only mixed breed dogs, some will only accept homeless dogs and some like their dogs to mix well with their interior design. Some people find little bit about themselves in dogs appearance and some just select randomly or based on friends referrals. And some, get a dog by accident. Like my mom when my younger sister wanted one but grew tired of taking it out after few months.

So yes, how one selects his or her dog, is not a complete mystery for me, but i still don't get how one wants to land on with something like a dog for 10+ years!

So what does a gay guy wants to communicate with his dog then?

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1. I don’t need a big dog to boost my ego – I have a big cock
2. I have a big dog because I am big too
3. I have a puppy because I want to be a puppy too?
4. I chose a big one – Are you getting my hint?
5. I have an ugly, big and briskly dog – you see I am pretty llama myself
6. I choose a big dog, a Doberman – I need protection. And you’ll need it too.
7. I am an old fart, going on my 60’s and I choose a small peppy dog – if it doesn’t cheer me up nothing can 
8. I have a small dog - i feel masculine. I'll protect it with my life
9. I heard big dogs eat a lot. As I am 180 and weighing 40kg soaking wet my budget could not bare a big dog eating me into a brink of bankruptcy
10.  …

Dogs tell much about their owners don't they! So they tell us. I have never cared for a dog. Why? Well I am never home and when I am home I prefer to be left alone and not turning on my heels and head back out for a walk. Goddammit, I just walked home!

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I think it would be wrong to close a dog behind the bars in a relatively small city-condo. I thought about a cat too. But I hate the smell of cat pee and poo, and my textiles are far too nice to be torn down by deceitful little cats. 

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How about getting a gold fish then? Well, I thought about it for a while too – but as you know their memory of 3seconds makes them happy in the round bowl for a month or so and then they catch back problems from all that clock-wise swimming and die on you. Ethically speaking, I am better off alone.

I rather have men… many… J

Cheerio J

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Demand follows supply… or was it other way around…

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If the only people you’d see would be ugly as hell, fat as you could imagine and all straight, wouldn’t you want one for yourself too? Apparently yes. Based on our 21^st Century economists and many of our times most accoladed business men and women people want what is available – and they shun all different. Oh, flashbacks from America. How can they dress in so ghastly and boring rags!

I walked in Bangkok night markets and in the Weekend Market. Then it kind of hit me. I don’t want any of this crap! I don’t need it – I don’t want it. Hell, I want to get out of here.

Same happens in the average Joes’ heavens - Malls. Who the fuck goes to malls?? No-one I know. So who are these “masses” that stuff their lardy asses in-between the revolving doors, stop the pedestrian traffic with their bag loads of crap and those crying misbehaving kids from Hell? 

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I think we need some sociologist or anthropologist to explain us this in a bit more detail. I found some poor insights how to target teens in Mall’s here. One of the first observations from authors themselves: “It is intuitive that the shopping mall is a place that is socially significant to the teen population,” said Jane Traub, senior vice president of research for Scarborough. “We may have our own personal memories of spending time in malls as teens ourselves, and many of us who have teens in our household know that the mall is a favorite destination.  This study shows just how much time teens are actually spending at the mall.” 

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Now this just says researchers were and probably still are in the Mall’s target group segment… Study basically says teens spend 2-3hours in malls by shopping crap, getting fat in the joints like McDonald’s and Burger King, and are observant to screen displays bombarding 99cent deals and promotion of all sorts of rags. This did not make me any smarter…Malls are crap, in my opinion. And because I am almost always right my statement is most probably true as well. The worst thing about malls is that they promote mediocrity and at best can deliver only average or poor experience. If your research question was: “why do gay people go to malls” it would not produce a result. We do not visit malls. Or at least any self-respecting gay does not. We do not find anything from malls. And in addition we get rash from entering into these dungeons of averages.  

In many ways fashion tries to be a form of art. Fraction of it is. Mostly, it is about satisfying the most common denominator which unfortunately is a straight, slightly overweight, middle aged, stumpy man: “The-mall-goer”. Right, so men’s fashion has become to a stage when it is a nice little play of different colors on different shapes and sizes of t-shirts, jeans and some ghastly coats. Right, production cost for T-shirt is 10cents, for jeans around 50cents and coats vary in between 2-20eur. Now the retail price in the same order is: 30Eur, 150Eur, 200ur. You don’t have to be an astrophysicist to realize that with these margins you want everyone to be average Joe’s wearing T-shirts. Why would you do anything different whilst keeping doing exactly what you already are doing keeps your margins healthy? Who needs margin erosion anyways! And malls, the perfect setting to get your horrible rags out of your doors – carried straight into the cars and towed far away to the suburbs - are the machinery which makes the business running. 

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To play down the indifference in almost all clothing being produced by the industry for men, companies have re-invented colors. Well not re-invented COLORS, but merely taken the palette from the backroom and applied different colors on different season with a slightly different fabrics to the same dull designs. I know, haute-couture is different – but remind me again, when was the last time You bought haute-couture? Industry sales volumes tell unapologetic story – basic shit, that’s what men buy. And that’s what is ultimately on offer.

I am tired of dull, uninteresting, deathly boring clothes of the likes of brands like: H&M, Zara, Emporio Armani, Armani Xchange, D&G, Gass, Guess, Levi’s, Diesel, GAP, Top Man etc. There is  nothing they bring to the market which truly surprises you positively.  Why can’t we get some cool stuff to the stores! I think I’ll elaborate “cool” in some later posting...

Now, I am feeling in so need I could die. I guess erotic massage by two nice boys will suffice…

Cheerio! J

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