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21 Thursday Mar 2013
Posted Absolutely Thursdays, It's A Gay World
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20 Wednesday Mar 2013
Posted This Is Thailand . . .
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Know how to tell the difference between a dead cat and fish?
Don’t worry about it, none of my lesbian friends knows either . . .
What would you do if while eating a sausage you found part of a dead cat’s body inside?
If you are North Korean, you’d send your compliments to the chef.
If you are British, you’d eat it anyway because you’ve had worse from your local Burger King.
If you are from Tennessee you’d get pissed over being gypped by having only gotten part of the cat.
And if you are a lesbian you’d immediately sink your life savings into a massive purchase of lottery tickets because it’s obviously the luckiest day of your life.
But if you are Thai, you’d take a more Buddhist-like approach to the discovery . . .
Late last week, Krod Yotchomrang, a 52-year-old native of Satuk in the Buriram province, says she and her family were enjoying a meal of foot-long sausages bought from a local market when, like with eating a box of Cracker Jack, they found an unexpected surprise. “I was cutting the third sausage when I noticed what looked like a small cat,” Mrs. Krod said.
Ignoring that eating hot dogs and sausages is a lot like eating pussy – it’s better to not know what you are eating has been filled with – Yotchomrang took a closer look and saw its eyes, nose, and a chunk of cat hair. “We almost threw up when we realized we were eating the body of a kitten for dinner,” she said.
Which begs the question: How many calories do you get from eating pussy?
It depends on which way she wipes.
It also begs the question of what then does it take eating to make a Thai actually throw up?
Considering the surprise delicacy as food for thought, after her family finished their meal Mrs. Krod set up a small shrine in her home, placed the kitten’s body on it, and began burning incense and praying before it. Because this is Thailand and what else would you do with a lucky dead kitten you found in your dinner? Word of the family Krod’s good fortune quickly spread and neighbors began flocking to the family’s mew shrine to share in their new-found luck.
“Several of them won money on the lottery playing the number 52”, her age, Yotchomrang said. (The two-digit winning number for the March 16 lottery draw was in fact 52).
The lottery winnings, of course, are what makes this story newsworthy; the event otherwise is business as usual in Thailand as reports are that customers of the ladyboy bars in Nana Plaza often luck out and discover a pussy in the foot-long they thought they’d been purchasing too.
(Mahalos to Robert for forwarding this story to me.
Dude, you are the cat’s meow!
I hope I did you proud . . .)
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20 Wednesday Mar 2013
Posted It's A Gay World, Wednesday Wetness
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19 Tuesday Mar 2013
Posted Thailand Travel Tips and Tales, Tips
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I think one – of the many – things I like about Thailand is the population’s general disregard for rules. In the west it’s not uncommon to hear the saying that rules are made to be broken. They have no comparable bit of popular wisdom in Thailand because the general consensus there is that rules are best ignored. It’s not so much about consciously breaking rules in Thailand, it’s just that life is easier by simply disregarding any rule that may get in your way. Being a bit of an iconoclast myself, I think that’s a pretty good rule to live by.
Of course there are rules, and then there are rules. Those meant for the local populace are one thing, those meant for anyone not lucky enough to be born Thai are another. It is one of the paradoxes of Thailand. Rules that govern the behavior of visitors to the country are strictly enforced, those that govern the actions of locals not so much. And rules that apply to both are only enforced when a farang is involved. Granted, enforcement efforts are usually about money and not really about the silly rule. Bangkok’s infamous litter police are a good example. There’s a 2,000 baht fine for littering that visitors will fall prey to even when they haven’t littered. But a Thai can get away scot-free when dumping a trash bag full of garbage at the feet of a litter patrol officer.
As unconcerned about rules as Thais are, as a farang when you have unknowingly or inadvertently broken some minor little rule you can be guaranteed that whoever the local is calling the shots he or she will cut you absolutely no slack. Explain, argue, try to use logic . . . your efforts will be wasted. The person you are trying to convince to see it your way will just keep giving you one of those damn Thai smiles, will just keep agreeing with your every point, and will just keep repeating whatever the stupid rule is that you broke. I think Thais have a rule about how to deal with farang. It seems to be a pretty effective one.
A good example that I recently mentioned in reply to a comment on this blog is a rule I ran up against at a hotel in Bangkok. Like many rules, it was not written down anywhere; you wouldn’t know about it until you broke it. The six story hotel’s frontage was all glass, a good portion of which was made up of the windows in each room. I like fresh air in a room. Even when the air barely qualifies as fresh. Within a few minutes of having opened one of the windows in my room, the front desk called to tell me I needed to close it. The hotel had a rule against opening windows in rooms. Huh. I decided the best rule of thumb was to follow the ever popular advice of When In Rome Do As The Romans Do, so I ignored their rule and their request to close the window. A bell hop showed up a few minutes later to rectify my error.
I know from experience that if 10:00 am is the cut-off time for breakfast at a hotel in Thailand, showing up at 10:01 means you’ll go hungry. Even if it is a buffet, all the food is still laid out, and there are numerous other guests still filling the dining room. Unless you are with a Thai. I’ve waltzed into breakfast with Noom a half hour after service had ended and the staff has not only allowed us in but had the cooks rustle us up food too. That’s the kind of thing that should, as a visitor, piss me off. But when you are in Thailand the best rule to live by is to just go with the flow.
I’d pay more attention to rules when I’m in Thailand, just to avoid hassles if nothing else. But a holiday is supposed to be about enjoying yourself and trying to adhere to all the rules of a country you are visiting doesn’t fit that theme. Fortunately, one of the rules in Thailand is that when you break one an outlay of baht will always make matters right again. I just consider those user fees and enjoy my time in The Kingdom rule free.
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19 Tuesday Mar 2013
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18 Monday Mar 2013
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One morning I woke up Noom – my bar boy friend and current love of my life – with a blow job. Though ‘woke-up’ is a euphemism for both of us acknowledging he was awake. When we sleep together the least little unusual movement on my part brings him immediately to a state of alertness. I like to think that is because he is so attentive to my needs, but realize it probably has more to do with his history of sleeping with farang customers. If I were him I’d sleep with one eye open too.
But the blow job, coming from me first thing in the morning while his eyes were still closed, was unusual. Unlike what is probably true with far too many of his customers, I don’t usually molest him before he’s had the chance to greet the day. I let him shower first. Not that I’m adverse to morning sex. Even though the time of the day that qualifies as morning for us comes closer to qualifying as a nooner for most. It’s just that by the time we wake it’s a rush to get to breakfast. And then there’s things to do and places to see. Which leaves little time for people to do. Even though doing Noom is one of my favorite things. I’m not sure how Julie Andrews missed that one.
Regardless of the time the clock says it is, a blow job is a nice thing to wake up to. There aren’t many better ways to start your day than getting head. Some gay guys would argue giving head is a great way to begin your day too, but though I do suck dick – it’s kinda one of the things us gay guys do – I’m not one for whom life’s greater pleasure is having someone’s dick in my mouth. At a minimum, I like to be on a first name basis with a dick before I start deep throating it.
Not that there is anything wrong with guys for whom life is the pursuit of dick to suck. I’m thankful for the cock sucking lovers of the world – I am not as picky about who has my dick in their mouth as I am about whose is entering mine. For me though it is more about giving my partner pleasure than it is about unbridled joy at having a dick to suck. Though admittedly, it’s usually about nothing more than returning a favor.
Noom and I have spent enough mornings waking up next to each other to have developed a routine. Noom is big on traditions and routines. Like most guys he is also big on having his dick sucked. With us, come morning, his fondness for routine wins out over his enjoyment of a blow job. So on most mornings I wake up causing Noom to officially wake up (god knows how long he’s been laying there faking sleep). Then he leans over, kisses me, and says, “Good Morning!” In return, I scowl at him. Not because of anything he did but simply because that’s my natural reaction whenever I hear someone say good morning in a far too cheery voice. By then we both need to pee – and since beauty before age doesn’t apply to who gets first dibbs on the toilet, I plod off to the bathroom to give myself some relief for believing it is a good morning.
But on this morning I decided to give Noom a good reason for believing it was a good morning. I’m not sure why, I’m not sure what got into me. Other than Noom’s dick. Obviously. Not that having Noom’s dick in my mouth was unheard of; it’s been there before. Just not at the hour of the day. And Noom, with his eyes still closed, did what any man – straight, gay, or confused – does when he suddenly feels his cock engulfed in a warm, wet mouth. He smiled.
When you wake up to a blow job, smiling is the right response. A small groan of pleasure ain’t bad either. Noom did both. Then his training kicked in and he reached down to take matters in his own hand. Not quite getting the gay man’s fascination with dick, to Noom sex is about the end not the means. And from years of experience, he knows he is much more adept at providing a happy ending for himself than the one any other guy is capable of regardless of how proficient he may be at that task. When it is my orgasm that matters, I’m cool with that. But on this morning, for once, it was about him more than me. So I brushed his hand away and went back to work. He knew something was up. Besides his dick. And let a confused, pleased, and surprised exclamation of “Oh!” escape his mouth. I would have responded but mine was occupied.
It’s nice when your day is so free of plans and obligations that you can spend your morning giving the man you love the devotion he deserves. I suppose it’s even nicer being on the receiving end. Not that my initial intention of waking up Noom with a blow job had as its ulterior motive the design of planting a seed in his mind about future mornings and the spilling of my seed, but I do wish the boy could take a hint. But that’s about future mornings with the prospect of qualifying for once as good. On this morning, Noom’s pleasure was all that mattered. Which he finally got when after I’d brought him to climax he moved down to repay the kindness only to be stopped. “No,” I told him after spitting. “For you.”
For a self-labeled straight man, Noom has shared a hell of a lot of orgasms with other men. And has provided those joys without reciprocal treatment to many more. I’ve no doubt he has been on the receiving end before too thanks to those into muscle worship, but even when those end in an orgasm for him and not for his customer, they are still about the desires, pleasure, and needs of the farang and not Noom. Having someone give him a blow job for no other reason than to give him the pleasure of having his dick sucked was an unusual experience. And being the polite man that he is, after it’d finally sunk in, he responded appropriately. “Thank you,” – which with his accented English comes out as ‘Sank you’ – replaced his normal first utterance of the day of “Good Morning!” And was much more sincere.
Thais are not big on saying thanks. It’s a cultural thing. The best explanation I’ve heard for their lack in practicing what in the west is a normal social nicety is that it has something to do with Buddhism. Which some how translates into that by thanking someone for what they’ve done for you, you make their gesture about yourself instead of about the person whom you are thanking; by saying thanks you are stealing that person’s karmatic thunder, as it were. So by not saying thank you, you are actually honoring that person’s gesture more than you would by expressing your gratitude.
Noom seldom says thanks. No problemo. I don’t expect to be thanked when, for example, I’ve paid for dinner because I always pay for his food. Being the more financially well off of the two of us, it’s expected that I’ll pick up the tab. That too is a social norm for Thais. It’s almost an obligation. So why would you say thanks? Or expect to be thanked? At other times when a thank you seems more in order, well, there’s a wai for that. And that gesture holds far more sincerity than the thank you that trips from Westerners’ tongues with little thought or meaning.
There was a thread not long ago on one of the gay Thailand message boards about the Thai practice of not practicing saying thank you. It evidently bothers a lot of guys. Some reported they’d gone as far as demanding their boy du jour thank them for the little things they did which they felt the boy should be grateful to them for. Because forcing someone to thank you is the surest way to warm your heart. The discussion dwindled into a general agreement that those Thais who’ve been exposed to western ways have adopted our practice of saying thanks whether we really mean it or not. As they should. Because coming from the more developed nations our social norms should be the ones that count. Not those of the country we are visiting or have decided to make our home.
That morning Noom got an unexpected blow job from me, an uncommon but pleasurable gesture for that hour of the day (which the bastard has still not reciprocated). His sincere thanks was equally rare, but of the two probably meant more. And was, and is, the more memorable of the two. And for that, I thank him.
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18 Monday Mar 2013
Posted It's A Gay World, Monday Muscle
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