7 days

I'm off topic already.

7 days

It's been 7 days already and as much as I hate to be all Dawson's Creek about this topic, I'm still going to say this,  I miss the Coconut Republic.  Sure, poverty and squalor live alongside couture malls and shopping centres like the other didn't exist; but it has its charms.   The minute my plane landed on the tarmac in Beijing Capital Airport (an awesome airport I tell ya), I already wanted to go back. Beijing greeted me with its first ever snow. The lady cabbie was ecstatic that it finally snowed in Beijing.   It was sorta romantic and I wanted to talk to the cabbie but I slept during the ride.  I was exhausted.


I so wanted to blog while I was on the road but it was difficult to get Internet access in the Coconut Republic.  Not that there aren't any, there are actually many Internet cafe's in the Philippines.  I wanted to blog with Consuelo (my laptop) but there weren't any free wireless in the places I went to, even friggen Starbucks (tell you more about that later).


My trip to the Coconut Republic would be described as overwhelmingly sublime that borders on the surreal at times. I had a great time, yep and  I actually think I grew up a little.  I stayed more with my family this time (about 10 days to be exact).  I met up with really good friends.  And I traveled with B.

Manila International Airport

If Beijing Airport is awesome that it makes me want to lick the bathroom tiles, the airport in Manila is not that awesome.  It's clean but not well maintained.  I thought that the plane would be landing at the new airport but we landed in the old one.  I had fun at the baggage claim area though.  I was expecting a guy to pop out of the baggage claim carousel (like it did the last time I arrived in Manila International Airport).  After I got Tallulah, I headed out to the arrivals section and was looking for my mother.  It was my niece that found me, Ynah (pronounced as EEEH-nah not WHY-nah). I almost screamed. She's all grown up.  Still small, but she's all ladylike now sorta.  Damn it I'm old! My mother, father and my niece and her partner found us.  I embraced them, and father dear started to tear up for no reason.  I was like "dude, chill". I was secretly happy because my father was never the mushy kind.  Age really does mellow hard men like my dad.  I looked at Dana, my niece and her partner and their three-month old baby Samantha.  Dana's different. She looked more mature, probably because of the baby.  Her partner, Rudy, is a bit quiet and timid and kept mostly to himself and gave me monosyllabic answers to the questions that I asked him.  Samantha, on the other hand, is curious about the stranger in front of him.  She kept on eyeing me with her big round eyes.  She seems at home with the airport environment. Samantha is my second grand niece. JEEEEZUS I feel so old.


Obamarama

I arrived on the 20th of January, Obama's inauguration.  I knew that Obamarama was a world phenomenon but I never expected the massive reception it got in the Philippines.  When I arrived at my sister's house that night I realized how serious the reception for the new American President was.  My sister was watching the inauguration and it turned out that all major networks were covering it. She owns a sari-sari store (Think of a mom and pop store with a 7-11 twist to it) and the neighbors were drinkin beer and watching history unfold.  My sister who's crazy about noontime shows and prime time soaps is watching Obama being sworn in, and so was my whole family.   I even heard my mother telling the whole family that we were lucky enough to witness history as the West inaugurates it's first African American president. The rest of my family nodded agreement.  That time I thought somebody kidnapped my family and replaced them with politically correct clones. My family was never NEVER politically correct. Even the TV reporters were politically correct.  Like whoa.  I was like, whoa.  She never uses the word African American before. She usually uses the N word in Spanish (its common for Filipinos to use that), but how times have changed. You gotta thank the Internet for this Obama win and for making my parents PC.  My parents. PC. Whodathunk. Next thing you know they would be demanding the IMF and World Bank to free the Third World of debt.  But that's too much to ask, I guess.

Traffic

I never realized that it was that bad in Metro Manila.  And I thought Beijing was bad.  You have to go to work at 5 am and go home at 11 pm to avoid the traffic jams. 

Starbucks

I love coffee, but I am not a fan of Starbucks.  I still prefer Dunkin Donuts over Starbucks.  I mean, if I'm gonna pay for a 4 dollar coffee, I would at least expect a free wi-fi and a blowjob (ok, at least a backrub).  But nooooooooooooooo. There ain't no free wi-fi in Starbucks.  I checked.  My sister and one of my nephews and I were waiting for the rest of my family to arrive for some dinner thing and my sister wanted to wait in Starbucks.  Reluctant as I was, I acquiesced since they already found a seat.  I queued up and waited for my turn to be served. I was carrying Tallulah with me and I was a bit groggy since I barely slept the other night and I seriously needed the caffeine jolt, so I decided to order an espresso machiatto.  When it was my turn to be served I ordered a  machiatto for me and two frappucino for the rest.  I said the whole thing to the waiter (barrista my ass), who happened to go to the same church as I do, in Filipino.  Now, I didn't get the memo that when you go to a Starbucks in Manila, you should order in English.  The waiter smiled at me and told me in a sort of patronizing Filipino tone that a machiatto was a small coffee. The lady beside me who heard the waiter's comment sorta smiled (no, she fuckin smirked). Oh, did I say, that she was asking her{grand}kids what their orders were in English 
(WACHA WANT TOO DREENK? DOO YOOO WANTA PRAFUCHEENO OR HWATEVERRR?).  
I wanted to shove Tallulah's ends up the waiter's and the lady's asses and  tell them that I knew what a freaking espresso macchiatto was. Just because I ordered the whole goddamn thing in Filipino and I was wearing non-designer flip flops and anon descript tank top and shorts doesn't mean that they could patronize me.  I have rights yo! I summoned up my inner Oprah Winfrey and told him in English that I have been drinking it even before he had pubes {which he probably now shaves considering his eyebrows were a bit sculptured}.  Then I told him in plain Filipino to make my fucking macchiatto a double. To his credit, he got embarrassed and then noticed Tallulah on my back with an airport baggage claim stub sticker thing still attached to her, to which he asked where I was from (duh my coffeee!!!!!! he was kinda cute tho).  I told him I was from Caloocan {think Brooklyn with extra frills}. I got my orders but I didn't get a double.  I prolly should've told it to him in English.  Fuckin Starbucks.

Malls

There are shitloads. And when I say shitloads, I meant shitloads.  It seems that one distinct aspect of Filipino culture in many cities (but most especially in the Metro) is that daily life seem to revolve around malls.  You can find Bayad Centers (where people can pay any kind of utility bill), chapels, fitness centers, medical facilities and the like.  In the Philippines, the malls have replaced the parks as the universal public space.   IT scares me a little truth be told.  I mean, they're nice and all but it's like giving the friggen government a whole shitload of slack which they really don't need.  I look at the state of the public spaces in the metro and to be honest there aren't enough. Granted that its really good but these tycoons who own them malls shouldn't be doing this. I love malls, don't get me wrong; but aren't we a bit mall crazy here?  Back when I was a kid, I looked forward in going to parks because there's grass.  Now, even malls have grass and waterfalls and friggen rice paddies.  And yes, you can solicit for sex in malls too! Senator Craig would have a field day in SM.

Tuyo, Tocino, Sinangag, Bibingka, Julebe

I gained 5 kilos because of these bastards. I ate at Julebe (Hoo leh beh) so many times that I felt for certain that them burgers were not 100% pure beef patties.  Whenever I would take out my nieces and nephews they would always ask me to take them to Jollibee or Chowking (a Chinese fast food joint owned by Jollibee).  They never get tired of it.


Tuyo rocks. I could never get enough of tuyo. Tuyo with  sinangag  and fried eggs is da bomb. Maaaaaaaaaaaan I once was served pasta with tuyo, olives and capers by a friend and it blew me away.  Ohhhh and the bibingka.  When Boo and I  were on our roadtrip, we ate bibingka whenever we can. The best bibingka that we had was in Liliw Laguna  and it was just 30 cents a piece.  30 cents for a piece of bibingka! You don't even get things as good as that in The Noodle Kingdom. 

Thank You
I have to thank some people I met during this trip.
Allan and Auch. No words could describe them.
Oskie and Venus.  I'm hoping I'll be in the Coconut Republic when you two exchange wedding vows.  
Andrew. Quiapo and Binondo would never be the same again. And cheesy 80's songs for that matter.
Cindy and Bingo. You two are amazing and wonderful people.  All the best with the work that you do. 
Iza and Celle. My only link to my dreadful highschool past.  :)
Bogs and Demo.  It was great meeting you two.
Drei. You are so fresh.
Boiet. It was surprising to say the least.
Chris. I still can't believe that you and I have the same camera.  I hope next time its a DSLR.
Ate Aida. Thank you for our talk and for helping orgnize my shit.

The welcoming committee

This was the first time that B and I went to the Philippines together.  In fact, this we were in the Philippines together.  I was excited for all sorts of reasons. As much as I hate admitting this on my blog,  I love the fucker and I wanted him to meet the people that mattered to me.  I mean not all of them because I honestly think he would be overwhelmed with the demographic.  I realized I have to wean him when it comes to my friends. Besides, there wasn't enough time.  We decided to go slow. We decided that he should meet my family and some of my friends. 


My family took him in like he was a long lost son (then that would mean incest, eeww?). It was not difficult to introduce him since they all have been asking when they were going to meet him and all.    Even my father was cool with it (well he is 70 so might as well go with the flow).  One of my nieces, Nee Ann, asked him about our relationship when we stopped by at one of my sister's house in Laguna before going to Manila.  Nee Ann is a 7-year old who loves writing ghost stories while putting on kid's make up (I can't believe that they already produce make up for kids).  She tells me that two of her good friends are gay (at 7) and I asked her how she knew and she said she just knows.    A fruitfly at 7. When she saw B and I coming outta B's car, she hugged and kissed me then looked at B and asked.

Nee Ann: Sino siya? (Who the hell is he?)
Uncle Omar: Siya si B (This is B)

While the two of us were eating baked macaroni that my sister prepared, Nee Ann was seated with us and kept on looking at me and B.  She prolly couldn't help it so she asked:

Nee Ann: Ankol, siya ba yung ex mo?  (Uncle, is he your ex?)
**I mentally choked on my baked mac and mentally gave myself the Heimlick manouver and told her after drinking a glass of coke:

Uncle Omar: Sino nagsabi sayo na ex ko siya (Who the hell told ya that he is my ex?)

Nee Ann: Si Mommy. (Mommy told me)
** my sister was manning her 7-11 while watching primetime soap.  B didn't know whether to keep on chewing or run to the car.  I'm glad he decided to stick to the former.  So I told Nee Ann

Uncle Omar: Hindi ko siya ex.  Boyfriend ko siya (He's not my ex. He's my boyfriend).
** she keeps quiet for a second or two and looks up the ceiling while trying to process the relevant piece of information that I just told her. Then when her 7 year old brain seemed to have processed the whole thing, she looks at me and then at B who looked kinda pale at that point but he's still chewing on the baked macaroni then tells us.

Nee Ann: Boypren? Ano yun?  Boy na pren? O BOYPREN? (Boyfriend? What do you mean by that?  Is he your friend who is a boy or is he your boyfriend)
** I was wondering at that point if B was also mentally administering the Heimlick manouver to his psychic self. I told my neice

Uncle Omar: Boyfriend ko siya.  So tawag mo sa kanya Uncle B, ok? (He's my boyfriend.  So you can also call him Uncle B, ok?)
** B nods at Nee Ann and tells her that she could call him Uncle B. She looks up the ceiling again and then looks back at the two of us and tells us.

Nee Ann: Boypren!? Double boy?! Pwede ba yun?  (Boyfriends?! Double boy? Is that even possible?)

Uncle Omar: Oo naman.  Uso yan ngayon.  (Yep, its possible.  It's a fad thats been around since the mid 90's)

Nee Ann: OK.
* * then she proceeds to eating her chicken while B gets a second helping of my sister's baked mac.

That was my boyfriend's baptism of fire. B got along with my family famously.  I mean, if he could survive Nee Ann, he could survive my other nephews and nieces and my siblings and my parents and my neighbors and the baranggay tanods.

B, Allan & Auch
B had to meet the two people that mattered to me most, my best friends - Allan and Auch. Truth be told, I was more nervous of the whole thing than B.  I think he was not fazed at all.  He was all B the whole time we were with Allan and Auch.  Allan and Auch decided to cook Sinampalukang Manok (Chicken Tamarind Soup) for us when we decided to visit them at Auch's apartment.  I was expecting it to be bloody and all as it has been known to the three of us that Allan and Auch never liked ANY of my boyfriends. I was nervous as hell to say the least.  Miracle of miracles, the two were ok with B, there wasn't any cursing.  No blood was shed.  B didn't die of food poisoning.  My water didn't break. That didn't mean that the three of them were chummy chummy and all.  The whole experience was a bit formal, but not tensed. It was a bit surreal because Allan was all fatherly and Auch was all butch all of a sudden that it would've given him a stroke had he continued to be butch for the whole day. As far as I know, this was Auch's longest.  I mean his previous record was 45 minutes.  He did it for two hours.  I wanted to tell them just to be themselves because B was oblivious to the whole thing.  I guess they wanted to make a good impression which touched me.  Inside, I was elated, but I still felt weird. 


At one point during the meal, Allan even said the following in a fatherly tone. 

Allan: Alam mo B na kaming dalawa ni Auch ay natutuwa sa inyong relasyon ni Omar.  Maligaya kami para sa inyong dalawa (I have to tell you B that Auch and I are happy about the two of you. We are really happy for you)
** Master Sergeant Auch, who was seated opposite to me couldn't help but raise an eyebrow (for two seconds). I couldn't help but smile, because I knew for a fact that it was genuine. But I also couldn't help but feel like some farm girl being offered by her parents to the sugar baron in order to pay off my family's debt.  All the scene needed  was a cow which Allan and Auch would give to B as my dowry.

B & my parents
B and I decided to take my parents with us on our 3 day trip to the countryside.  They were happy enough to oblige.  I found out later from my mother that they were both excited about the trip because they haven't had a proper vacation in years. 


B drove the whole time.  I couldn't drive.  He has a car in the Philippines and I couldn't, for the life of me, understand why he has a car in the Philippines when he's based outside the country.  He wants me to take up driving lessons.  My parents agreed. I told them that I wouldn't be able to handle my road rage.   B is such a proper driver.  He stops on a red light (I mean who does that these days); even makes way for stray dogs and cats and rats whatever living thing that crosses his path.


We went to visit a monastery that is frequented by a lot of tourists and devotees.  It was a real quiet and expansive place with a small chapel in the middle.  The four of us got out of the car and my father was complaining to my mother about his bladder  and was looking for the men's room so she asked B where the men's room was. I was 20 meters behind them and I could hear my parents talking about bladders and toilets and we were in a friggen monastery!  Good thing there were a few visitors that afternoon but I bet my ass that the nuns prolly heard the whole thing.  Meh, they prolly prayed for us too.  I love my parents.

On the road

The highlight of my vacation was the roadtrip with B.  The best times that we had was on the road and in his car. If it were a motorcycle it would've been more romantic and a bit French, but I guess the car was way better than a bike.  And besides, the hell would I pedal both of us. The car did have its uses.


It was the little things that appealed to me the most.


Like being able to smell him in close proximity with me for 8 hours straight...


or being able to listen and sing the same song over and over and over again until his ears and tonsils bled...


and playing with his hair and his nape in some lazy rainy afternoon en route to some destination...


or sleeping on the side of the road at 3 am because he was too tired to drive...


and to able to hear him snore.


and stopping by some odd place here and there for some bibingka or some pandesal or for some coffee because we were hungry.


taking photos...


going to churches, old landmarks, lazy towns and actually stopping by the markers to read them then to leave them.


to listen to his stories and talk about the future ahead of us...


to not speak to each other because of an argument that we didn't know how it started...


then to make up in the car afterwards :)


holding his hand.




It was intense to be with him the whole time.  So intense that it scared me a little. I dare say it was romantic even. It felt like I was in some early 90's European movie directed by dead filmmaker. It was so good that at the back of my head I was telling myself that this was it. This was it. Nothing more.   This was the film's climax and we're not even half way through because of budget constraints.  My evil psychic twin was telling me to expect the dreadful peripety to come falling on my head like brimstone and he was also telling me that there would never be a denouement or some form of catharsis in this story.  The dread would come to me in moments. Just seconds really.  Moments that I found most memorable and endearing.  I had to mentally slap myself everytime that feeling crept out of my skin.


I realize that trusting him more was irrelevant now.  Nor him trusting me. 


I had to trust us. 


I realized that somehow, I had to learn how to write this story, our story, with him. 

Hong Kong
We parted in Hong Kong. We stayed there for a night in some decrepit building that hosted a lot of tourists and people who were just passing through.  It was cheap.  It was small space on the 15th floor and it looked like a holding cell.  I think his car was even bigger. It was nice. 


We walked the streets of Kowloon trying to find Mixian (rice noodles) and ended up with instant noodles served with Chinese Spam. It was expensive.  We walked and walked till our feet got tired.  He held my hand the whole time.  It surprised me.  In the Philippines I had to stop myself from holding his hand or putting my arm around his waist when we were in public. I slipped most of the times.  He would sorta flinch (he did it a coupla times).  In Hong Kong he was a bit different. He was more forward. 


We parted in the airport.  He was gate 64 and I was gate 28. 
My plane landed in Beijing. It was snowing that day.  I told you that already.


Its been almost a week and I could still smell him. I guess I have it bad then.

I can feel the sun orredy.

Waiting for my flight.   Been a long while since I posted somethin here.  Beijing Capital Airport  is makin me so hard right now that I couldn't sit still on my swivel chair. 

I can't wait to go to the Coconut Republic. Like feel the sun on me and get a wiff of that Manila Carbon Emissions.  Yum.

Too bad I won't be able to see Obama's inauguration.  It's supposed to be a big thing. Well, it is a BIG THING.  History in the fucking making.  The first ever Hawaiian President, I mean, who could beat that.  I wonder if there would be Hawaiians present there.  I hope Obama doesn't fart during his swearing in ceremony.  Well, I actually hope he does; that way people would actually realize he is human after all and not some Christ/Krishna/Simba figure head. Still sucks that I don't get to watch the inauguration.

I suddenly have the urtge to take a huge dump now.  I love airport Johns.  They're so clean and pristine and holy.  No wonder some senators can't help but cruise in them.

i cannot sleep

seriously.  ive been tossing like scrambled eggs. and i seriously cannot sleep.

You gotta love the 50's {No Margie! Yer cake didn't turn out so well}

I know I wasn't born back then, {but I know a few people who were and they turned out pretty ok}, but I wish I was born or was already alive during the fifties. During the fifties, you could actually fantasize about Marlon Brando or Paul Newman or Cary Grant or Gary Cooper because they were still alive  and they possessed the youth and the masculinity that made that generation cum in their drawstrings! Nyargh! Damn, I wish I was born during the fifties. I mean, dudes, Hollywood men had spunk back then and most of them actually studied acting.  Now all you get is Zac Efron.  I mean he's cute as a toilet paper roll and all but I don't think America's National Twink Zac would be starring on a play or a film adaptation that would require him to shout "STELLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" on top of his lungs.

Gary Cooper.  Yum.

Another thing that I like about the fifties are those propaganda films that disguise themselves as instructional films on almost any kind of topic.  They're downright idiotic but they are insanely funny.  I love the narrator dude who acts like he's The Voice of God {he prolly was} and tries to tell them characters to do this and do that and be careful of this and be careful of that.  Maaaaaaaan, I miss the fifties {minus the Cold War, the segregation, the fact that being gay means yer crazy, the mandatory fire and brimstone sermon from the Sunday pulpit in suburbia yadi yadi yadi}. Then again, I am thankful for not being a baby boomer because that would mean I'd be in my 60's now or prolly dead.  Meh.

Gary Cooper.  Yum.

Watch the propaganda/instructional film on cooking for first time housewives. Margie, here doesn't know how to cook but the omnipotent god of the 50's helps her by humiliating the hell outta her then teaching her the ropes of basic housewifery.  After a few more jabs at Margie's female psyche and a little bit of instructing and tweaking and consulting the Book of Shadows,  Margie transforms into Julianne Moore housewife extraordinaire and bakes the motherfucking cake.  Notice in the video that when Margie's husband comes back home from the pictures work, he doesn't hear The Voice of God and just wolfs down Margie's Cold War Surprise. Now that's a 50's happy ending.

Gary Cooper.  Yum. 

These things make me dizzy

Many taxi's in Beijing have these interactive screens for passengers to play with. Kinda like those kiddie puzzles that you have in restaurants to keep kids from getting bored while waiting for the food. I happen to ride one of these taxis with my boss while going to one hospital in the business district (my boss had some sort of aneurism in his ovaries or something) and I happened to sit on the side of the cab with the interacttive tv. Curious me started playing with it, and sincethe screen was all in Chinese, I kept on asking my boss what this was and what that was, which caused him to nosebleed. It wasn't fun (not the nosebleeding, that was fun), the screen made me dizzy as hell. I felt like puking. These things are dangerous, yo.

I'm creaming in my pants right now.

And its not because of porn!  You may think that all Omar does is download porn all day {nooooooooo you are seriously mistaken my friend, because I only do that on Wednesdays! HAH}. I do use the internet for other shit.  Omar's gotta learn some culture, ya know.  So what made me cream in my pants? Well this did






To know more about the YouTube Symphony Orchestra, visit their site on this LINK YOU IDJIT

Quikies

The Kite Runner just made me cry.  Fucking movie made me cry. I just snotted on my keyboard. I'm sticking to porn next time.

TALES FROM THE BIG SMOKE VOLUME 1 - Kasper, Sparky and Ling Ling

A note to the reader:

This is a true story.  All the events written on this post happened for real {like no shit dude}; and in order to protect the innocent, the weary, the hungry and the humble of heart, names of the people have been changed. Some of the scenes can be graphic, so be warned. So yeah, continue reading.  But don't say I didn't warn you {Wilhelm Scream}.

I recently met up with a friend of mine who also works in Beijing.  Let's just call him Kasper {which all of you know is not his real name}.  Kasper has been in Beijing {on and off} for a good number of years. He's Dutch, gay, tall {well, he's Dutch} and he's a proud member of the non-American Democrats {lets just say that if he could marry Obama... he wouldn't, but he'd def finitely do a Monica}.  I met Kasper by accident about nine months ago in a bar with Stu {the Jewish stripper who is now a dog sitter in the Promised Land of Obama Country which they call New York} when I was still living in the Upper East Side of the Noodle Kingdom {the Northeast}.  When I moved to the Big Smoke it was Kasper, along with some other friends of mine who have been living in the Jing, who I always touch base with. 

So yeah, I met met up with Kasper last night because he texted me that he had to tell me about something that happened to him recently.  So we met up for drinks at some bar and asked him what was it that he was so eager to tell me.

Kasper, like the Dutch guy that he is, finished his pint of Qingdao and ordered another pint.  The suspense was killing me {yawn}.

He drank a few gulps and then proceeded to tell me his tale.

I was riveted.   I think I smoked a pack or something while listening to his story.  It was like a movie even - like David Lynch trying to do a comedy with Kevin Costner in it. 

Here's what happened.

Kasper, who is kind of tired of his job, the universe, the human condition, being single and his two cats that constantly piss on his mattresses decided to just call it quits.  No, he wasn't planning to off himself.  He just wanted to do something different for a change, like have a mini break or a mini breather.  Like get laid.  Kasper, a gay Dutch man in his prime, needed to get laid that night.  It was a Friday, and he just came back to his apartment from a looooooong day's work  to discover that his bed smells like cat piss.  As he was changing the sheets and contemplating whether to put the cats in his microwave or his washing machine, it dawned on Kasper that hadn't had sex in quite a while. It was prolly the cat piss that got his hormones all riled up or it was prolly the stress at work or maybe it was just good old Mother Nature reminding him to use his gonads.  Kasper needed to get laid that night.  So after doing the sheets and nuking the cats, Kasper took a shower and went to the place where every single gay guy in heat in a big city has gone before - the public toilets  Y  confessional gay bar.  Yes, Kasper went to the gay bar, alone. BRRRR

Culture note.  If you happen to stop by the Big Smoke and yer gay, the best place to go to  and to be gay is HONG KONG. Okay, Beijing is not that bad. Really.  Gone were the days when our Chinese gay and lesbian comrades used to cruise each other in public parks and squares or in public toilets or in subway stations or in abandoned alleyways and such {that is so 80's} Dude, we just hosted the Olympics yo.  Beijingers do it in style now. When the Chinese gays and lesbians finally figured out that you can actually be gay and lesbian in a public space as long as it is done in a "harmonious" fashion, they decided to build gay bars {and there's fridae.com}. There is  a gay bar in Beijing.  So yes, gay tourists, you can have gay fun in Beijing - as long as you do it "harmoniously" - like no flag burning and shit and praying in the middle of Tiananmen Square.  None of that! You are allowed to wear rainbow pins though {as long as it is not more than 5, yer safe}.

OK, where were we? Oh yeah, Kasper. Gay. Gonads. Gay Bar. 

Kasper went to the one known gay bar in town - DESPERATION DESTINATION. Its not actually the only gay bar in town, I believe there are some, but its where all the gays and lesbians go to on a Friday night.  OK, its the only gay bar in town.  And being the only gay bar in town, a gay guy has a risk of overexposure.  One of the first things I learned in my Gay101 course back in college is that a gay guy must never be overexposed.  He should exude an aura of mystery like that Rose chick in Titanic {the old bitch had the diamond all along, and she threw it back into the Atlantic!}.  Young gay boys and girls, learn from Rose - A woman's heart is  like a deep ocean of secrets; you'll never know what you'll get {?}.

Lucky for my friend Kasper though, he follows the rule of two  - that is: if you go every Friday, yer desperate; if you go every Thursday and Friday and Saturday, you do it for a living; if you go every month on a Sunday, yer a Mormon or in a commited heterosexual relationship that was signed, sealed and tested in California; but if you go  twice month, yer mysterious {I dunno why, but that's what it said in my Gay101 textbook so don't ask me, ask Simon and Schuster}.

But to go alone in a gay bar, is brave.   And I have to hand it to Kasper, he was one brave and horny guy that Friday night.  YOU GO GIRL! Well he went.

So he went to Destination.  As usual, the place was packed.  He saw the regulars,  the ones who do it for a living,  the lesbians, the fag hags, the Mormons, the out of towners, the bicurious, the soul searching 16 year olds who were actually thirty but they just looked like they were 16 year olds and some newbies.   Being a gay Dutch dude, Kasper went to the place where he was most comfortable and safe, he went to the bar area and ordered his drink. After a good number of Qingdao's and some vodka red bulls.  He was drunk.  And still no lay.  

When he was about to give up, pack his Dutch ass and go home,  a guy smiled at him from across the bar.   A tall {not as tall as Kasper though}, lanky  European in his mid 20's smiled at him and approached his side of the bar. He introduced himself.  Let's just call him Sparky.  Sparky's Polish and he's only been in Beijing for about a week or so.   Truth be told, Sparky was kinda cute, in a Ramones kind of way {like if yer into old skewl punk rock with a hint of EMO on the side, Sparky's definitely for you}.  And Sparky was not wasting any time flirting with Kasper either.  It was like the night before the elections - Sparky was the GOP ticket and Kasper was Pennsylvania.  Drunk Kasper was about to cast his vote when Sparky said something to him

Can you be my master?

and then he said another....

You know you can do anything you want with me.  Anything.....

and another...

You can bring me to your place and you can tie me up somewhere near your bed and I can watch you sleep.

and another...

I can be your pet if you want. You can feed me in a bowl.


and another...


Have you got any toys?

{I'm guessing he's not talking about Legos or Transformers action figures}

Talk about pitbull with a lipstick. 

Kasper maybe Dutch, but he's not into those kinks. He looked at Sparky the Polish Dog in the eye and told him that the night was young and we'll see and all that crap. Sparky smiled, ever confident, wrote down his number on a piece of paper and walked away but without forgetting to turn back and smile again at Kasper.   I had to interrupt him. I had to ask why he didn't say yes. I mean, there's this guy in front of him, who was in serious need of some loving and some Alpo Prime Cuts and basically offering himself for the night to satisfy his gonads and all.  I mean what more could he have asked for? I was pretty sure that Sparky was potty trained since Kasper did tell me that Sparky had to excuse himself once to go to the men's room so what there was no problem in that department.  And besides, Sparky the Polish dog might just put the fear of God to Kasper's cats.  Kasper just told me that he wasn't really into those kinks.  He was more the vanilla type, he says.  He woulda said yes if it stopped in Can you be my master bit, but the feeding bowl and watching him sleep just creeped the hell outta him.  

With Sparky gone to another part of the bar, Kasper called out the bartender and ordered another beer and went to a corner where he could stay inconspicuous for the time being.  In that corner of the bar, he clung to his Qingdao and mulled about what just happened to him.  Then a guy went to his corner and smiled at him.  A Chinese guy.  Cute.  Younger than Sparky, about 20 he figures.  Short.  Nice, cropped hair.  No piercings or anything.  No EMO clothing.  Just plain a plain normal tee print and jeans and sneakers. And he was fit.   Yum. Kasper's type.  Let's call him Ling Ling.  Kasper, still wary about his experience with Sparky the Polish Dog, was trying to go slow and making safe small talk.  Ling Ling turned out to be ok.  Well,  lets just say that the conversation didn't involve any dog food or potty training so it was alright for Kasper.  So, Kasper decided to flirt a little.  Ling Ling flirted back.  One flirt led to another so Kasper decided to pop the question - he asked Ling Ling if he wanted to spend the night at his place.  Ling Ling said yes.  Kasper did the victory dance in his head.  {The Miss Saigon Soundtrack was playing in mine} .

As Kasper and Ling Ling were leaving Destination,  Sparky happened to pass by.   It couldn't be avoided since there was only one exit, Kasper acknowledged Sparky with a nod while Sparky gave Kasper a sad smile and Ling Ling the Death Glare. Ling Ling clung to Kasper and smiled at Sparky.  It was clear who won Miss Saigon that night.  Damn I love gay happy endings.

Well the story is not yet finished my friends.  

Let me have a smoke break first.

MUZAK PLAYS to the tune of "Reasons."

BACK.  Man I'm so gonna miss Zhong Nan Hai's

Where were we?  Yes.  Kim nails Chris. 

Kasper brings Ling Ling to his apartment.  Good thing he changed the sheets and nuked the cats. Once in the apartment,  Kasper sets the mood by lighting candles all over the apartment and turning on the cable tv {there was no music and they were going to have sex anyways so yeah} to some nondescript channel - CNN. 

Ling Ling sat in front of the TV watching the world unfold infront of him and listening to Wolf Blitzer tell the world that they're the best political team on TV (for the nth time! We know already!} while Kasper fixes himself a drink.   Kasper sits beside Ling Ling, puts his arm around him and sorta leans in to kiss him.  Ling Ling sorta squirms and smiles a little at Kasper and tells him:

I'm shy.
 
Then Ling Ling and went back to watching CNN.  Kasper, a bit puzzled and still horny, finishes his bloody fucking Mary  as Anderson Cooper makes his own signature "Magnum" look on TV. Kasper tells himself that this was not the night he was expecting.  He was trying to remember where he put Sparky's number.  

After a minute or two, Ling Ling finally got bored of Wolf Blitzer yapping on TV and turns to Kasper and asks him if they could take a shower together. 

Now were talking, Kasper says to himself. 

Shower. 
Nothing happened. Just soap and warm water. He thinks that this is some sort of weird form of Chinese foreplay.  Like those indipendent films he watches. 

Bed.  He's in his boxers.  Ling Ling is in his skimpy undies.

Kasper moves in to kiss Ling Ling when Ling Ling did something Kasper never thought that a guy that he would pick up in a gay bar would do. 

Ling Ling screamed. 

Ling Ling didn't just scream.  Ling Ling screamed like a girl.   And Ling Ling didn't scream just like a girl.  He screamed like a girl in a Japanese porn flick. 

This

freaked

Kasper.


Totally freaked Kasper. 

He was like
WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?!

Ling Ling tells Kasper that he doesn't put out on the first date.

Kasper was like,  
Am I missing something here?


I mean I have to sympathize with Kasper here. My friend met the dude in a gay bar.  They flirted.  He asked him to come back to his place, the dude said yes.  It's not like he invited him to watch CNN.  They went back to his place to do the gay deed.  The guy did not look stupid or anything.   He was actually well educated and shit. 

This was just not Kasper's night. 

Adding salt to Kasper's throbbing wound, Ling Ling said

Can you wake me up early tomorrow morning so you can sit on my feet while I do my sit ups?

Kasper told him to get the hell out when he wakes him up later.
Thing is, Kasper's still horny.  I mean, damn, twice in a row.  {I did tell him that he shoulda picked Sparky}.  With or without Ling Ling, he needed to get off.  He jerked off.  He just needed to consummate this horrid day with some sort of absolution, an ejaculation, albeit from his right hand.  Damn, he could even get off listening to Wolf Blitzer tell the world that they are the best political team on TV.

So Kasper spanked his Dutch monkey, not even bothering to go to the other room, beside Ling Ling.   It was HIS room anyways.  Ling Ling was all hot and bothered though, making girlie Japanese porn sounds.  As Kasper was trying to imagine anyone, anything {even Wolf Blitzer} aside from the present company, he was also contemplating what he did in his past life to deserve something like this.  Two in a row.   A Polish dog and a Japanese porn wanna be. 

He came. It was not much. But it was an ejaculation.  It wasn't spectacular, but it was better than Ling Ling or Sparky or even Wolf Blitzer. 

Seriously.  Life can be a bitch sometimes.  

The universe decided to play a practical joke on Kasper. She probably wanted to teach Kasper some sort of lesson about the mystery of the cosmos and all that crap.  He still doesn't know what that Friday night meant in the whole scheme of things. Kasper may never know.  But the cosmos is wise.  When a mystery unfolds in front of you, there is no choice but to let it unfold.  Let it take its course. So Kasper acquiesced, ejaculated rather. Maybe he might actually figure out what that Friday night meant. Someday.   


So ends tonght's Tale from the Big Smoke.


A word to the wise.
Never go to a gay bar alone.  You'll never know who you'll meet.  There's always Anderson Cooper and Wolf Blitzer.  




 

WHOA. YES THEY DID.

First,  let me congratulate my American friends both here in the Noodle Kingdom and in the US for a very successful election {regardless who won, I believe it was very successful; and yep, I do have Republican friends yo}. It's clear that America has made a decisive choice, and its also clear in my mind that Americans have grown up a little.  Dudes, today, you have earned the world's respect. If not the world {believe me it is the world}, then you have earned mine.  It's not just because you chose the first African American president elect {although it is very much worth mentioning as it is very much historic; but lets not forget that he's also Hawaiian. hehe}; nor was it because you chose a Democrat to steer your country for the next four years.  Politically, I think it's mainly because that a great number of you chose to take a decisive risk.  The Americans chose a person who was {which is highly operative for president elect Obama} an unknown over a seasoned opponent; who, in my opinion {some may disagree though} was significantly different from the outgoing American President. What struck me though was that most Americans are do not just want a non-Bush president, they wanted something else - a paradigm shift.  It may not have been a full 360, mind you, but I think it was a perfect 180 or almost.  The point is, it was significant enough.  So significant that even the Republican Party were stunned by the turnout. Millions of Americans going to polling stations and waiting for hours in long queues, a good number of them even voting for the first time. "Maverick" would be best word to describe all the Americans who voted today, regardless of party affiliation.  Like I said, you have earned my respect and the world's.

I woke up today with a positive energy.  I dunno, maybe it was Barrack  Obama. Maybe it was because I woke up with a really massive hard on.  Maybe it was Sublime's Santaria that started to play in my head the minute I opened my eyes.  I dunno, but today, I woke up with so much positivity.  I was floating while walking to work singin "I DON'T PRACTICE SANTERIA. I DON'T HAVE NO CRYSTAL BALL. IF I HAD A MILLION DOLLARS... WELL,  I'D SPEND IT ALL."

I was at work in a meeting when my friend from the Upper East Side of the Noodle Kingdom gave me a text message.  It said

OBAMA WON! OBAMA WON! 奥巴马赢得!

And I said, HOLY. MOTHER. FUCK! In front of my workmates. They asked my what the matter was.  I told them the news.  Surprisingly, they cheered. The irony was, not one of the 25 people in the room were Americans.  We went to lunch, and I could hear a number of expats, mostly students and Chinese shouting ''Obama!" "Obama!"

Man.  And I couldn't help it but text and call people. I couldn't help but to be genuinely happy.  I'm never really into politics, it felt like somebody landed on the moon or something, or Paris Hilton had chlamydia. I have to admit, I'm sure glad that I am alive to witness something important as this. In many ways I guess, this world would not be the same world again. Cheesy, but true. Somehow, I could taste it in the Beijing air.  Prolly the carbon emissions.

And yes, they did.

Nuff said.

Must Reads

One of the best articles I've read in a long time.  HERE YO.

QUICKIES . The 80's

You wouldn't believe what just popped out of my television when I turned it on tonight - Sarah Jessica Parker with 80's hair and a one piece and leotards. I almost choked on what I was drinking.  The movie is no other than GIRLS JUST WANT TO HAVE FUN {Sarah Jessica Parker, Helen Hunt, Shannen Doherty}  I can't believe the clothing, the hair {oh the hair!} and the color back then.  And don't forget the MIDI music! I miss the 80's dude.  I mean, I was a wee boy back then with no trace of armpit, leg or pubic hair but damn, I sure want to see my sisters wear those ugly leotards and sport ginormous hair that reeked of chlorofluorocarbons. 

I miss the 80's man.  Sure people were dying of AIDS in every corner and they were blaming it on gay people and shit, and the Soviet Union and the US got gazillions of nuclear weapons that might have accidentally taken off and killed half of the world's population, and apartheid was still kewl in South Africa. Fuck yeah, come to think of it, the 80's were not so kewl if you think about those shits.  But dude, food was cheap, i was young, there was Sesame Street, and maaaaaan I miss wearin skimpy shorts and cartoon tees and eating my boogers. O

Shlong Post: Karaoke. Beijing Marathon.

I have to confess that the last 3 weeks have been really terrible for me. I won't go into details but it has just taken a toll out of me and I needed a breather of some sort.   Three days ago, my horoscope told me to chill and relax because my Dharma is getting fucked up.  So that I did.  After three long weeks of isolation, I decided to social.

I met up with my Brit friends last night in Sanlitun {the touristy bar district in Beijing} because it was one of them Brits' birthdays.  I love meeting the Brits. It's like every time I meet up with them I always meet new people.  Just last night I met an American girl who is Scientology curious, an American dude slash artist who spoke awesome Chinese {well he's Chinese American}, two really kewl German girls who are on an internship with EU based NPO's and  and American dude who can really sing a good Ray Charles cover.  The experience always makes me feel refreshed after {and drunk}.  Its prolly because of their youthfulness, or them just being sort of a weird bunch {in a good way}, or the alcohol or just plain nice and old company, but fuck I like meeting up with them.  OK, it was one of them Brits birthdays yeah.  After finishing up with a Cabernet and two pitchers of ice cold margaritas, one of them suddenly had an idea of going to a KTV bar.  I dunno if some of my readers are familiar with the word KTV but it just means karaoke here in China.  I've told you in this blog that I am not a huge fan of karaoke. I mean, I can deal with karaoke for an hour but after that I just get bored and shit.  I mean, I usually sing songs but in my head and shit but not really in a karaoke bar. Its like I always end up sitting in the corner finishing a pack of cigarettes after my threshold hour.  Speaking of KTVs, the Chinese really take their KTV's seriously.  The KTVs in Beijing {and I reckon in many big cities in China} are so swanky and ginormous. They're also expensive {We found that part later on}.

Suprisingly though,  I was able to stay and have fun for the whole time.  It was prolly because that I was so drunk.  I even sang a coupla songs {I don't remember them though, I think it was an Annie Lennox song and one was a Green Day song, meh whatevs}.

I was so drunk and tired and sleepy that night so I decided to crash in the Brits' place.  I met their puppy Lyka {named after the first dog in space,  but Lyke the Brits' dog doesn't understand Russian though}.  The pup kept slobbering me {she's the touchy feely kinda puppy} and I've been told that she loves to bite.  Nice.  My kind of pup.  {Speaking of canines, I have another interesting story to tell you which involves another canine}. So yeah, I slept and woke up early like waaaaay early for me on a Sunday mornin' {9 am},  I never got to say goodbye to them Brits because they were all still asleep.  I took the taxi goin' back to my apartment hoping that I could make it there in twenty minutes because I was still sleepy and I completely forgot about the Beijing marathon {in which my boss was runnin'}.  I never made it to my apartment. I was almost there, like only 500 meters more then I'm in my apartment, but the road was blocked because of the marathon.  I had to wait for the road to be opened which means I had to just sit there on the side waiting for the marathoners to finish passing by.  I couldn't cross the road because there were like a gazillion policemen guarding the roadblock, they prolly woulda shot me if I tried.  So yeah,  I stayed {nothing much I could do really} there and watch them pass me by.  Man,  I have to hand it to these dudes,  it takes major balls and ovaries to run a marathon.  I mean, I like running, but I dunno if I can run 46 km non stop.  I prolly woulda bled to death trying.  I took shitloads of pics , but I ccouldn't post all of them here. So here are some.

there were a lotta shirtless dudes 

like this one for example.  he wasn't running though.  he was mostly panting. 

this dude reminds me of the dude from REM

the dude ran with two flags the whole time! FTW I woulda bled to death doin that.

love this picture

the cutest dude in the marathon.  OK there were a lotta cute dudes but this one gets my vote.  we kinda had a moment.  I was takin pictures and he kinda slowed down and looked directly at the camera because he thought I was takin his pic {I was takin the police dude's pic}. i nodded at him and he nodded.  he smiled and i smiled. then he left the course and we checked in to a run down motel and we made babies to last us till the next winter.  

Who's Joe the Plumber?

OK.  I was watching the final debate on CNN and I heard Mc Cain spoke of Joe the Plumber several times in his spiel.  I turn on the friggen tv after a whole week  of not watching any tube show and whatnot and I hear Joe the Plumber this and Joe the Plumber that. Like, who the hell is  Joe the Plumber?  That really piqued my curiosity. So I decided to google the bloke and these are what I got {believe me, these are the ones that made it to the shortlist}.

OK.  The dude's a caricature. Nuff said.

Not. so. hot.  And he works for bloglines.

erm. no. thank. you.

ooooh. likey likey.  but he's in mongolia, so he's not technically joe the plumber.

hawt. and her name's Jo. But I'm looking for a Joe. :(















OK. I gave up googling the bastard. So I YouTubed him and lo and behold, this is what I found.

Like whoa. There really is a Joe the Plumber - and he called Obama a Socialist. No wonder Mc Cain kept sayinghis name like its his fucking mantra. 

So much for equal opportunity fuck :(
Damn I guess I should settle for Mario then.