‘Sup reader, how’s your slow slide into high season going? Are you getting your mongering nights in before the tsunami of humanity that is all our futures come November? If not, you better. It won’t be long before every good spot in Thailand is taken up by hordes of brainless, mouth-breathing, knuckle-dragging skid marks.
On Sunday, I was still in Ptown and decided to check out the Sens Grill—the eatery adjacent to Sensations gogo bar. I got the sliders (275b). Happily, the food was awesome. The burgers were clean and simple: patty, cheese, tomato, ketchup, onion. It’s what I imagine the very first McDonald’s burgers must’ve been like, before the whole process got automated. I put a dab of mustard on. If they’d added a pickle, it’d be a perfect burger. It came served with chips (what Yanks call “steak fries”), which had me flashing back to a fish’n’chips dinner in Camden in 2008. Speaking of flashbacks, I finally replaced the Mp3 app on my phone with one that properly shuffles the songs and lo and behold, what should come streaming into my ears but “In Your Wildest Dreams” by The Reverend Horton Heat. The first time I heard it, I was barreling down the highway from L.A. to Palm Springs in a convertible Mustang GT with a friend-with-benefits from uni. At the time, she was Suzanne Somers’ (of “Three’s Company” fame) personal assistant and we were on a mission to deliver a very important wedge of cheese from The Grove in Hollywood to Suzanne’s dinner party two hours away. By the time we arrived, the cheese had melted.
In sum, Sens Grill was sensational, so much so that I was compelled to check out the gogo with the same name. There was one perfect 10. She was pushing 40 but a 10 nonetheless. The rest could’ve used a month at fat camp. And let’s face it, so could I. Two Indian dudes had dragged their girlfriends in. They sat looking horrified. All four had beers sitting in front of them. No one took a sip. 150b SMLs.
“One Big Family” by Embrace came through my earbuds, and I recalled seeing them play at Spaceland in Silver Lake, California in 2004. There are maybe 50 people at the gig. It was an incredible show. As I stumbled around Walking Street, I noticed the muay thai ring where they held exhibitions intermixed with cobra shows was walled-off. Not sure whether it’s a remodel or a tear-down.
By 20.45 there were no open seats in Pin-Up. After circling the inside twice, a high-top table opened up next to the stage. An old conquest from Soi 6—Nom—has been at Pin-Up for a few years now. She’s had so much plastic surgery I didn’t even recognize her.
Off topic, there are two gay bars on Walking Street now. They seem incongruous, but who knows. Maybe they’ll clean up. Also on WS: some kind of gogo-not gogo called Okeanos. They’ve put up a sign and lights outside, but inside it just looks like a trashed office space. Maybe the put the kart before the horse for some reason but nobody’s gonna gogo in there until they clean it out.
From there I motored over to LK Metro to get rinsed by the staff in Dolls. The barmaids, tomboys, and dancers all gang up on a customer, pumping for drinks. Then I hit Las Vegas where two perfect 10s undulated onstage. Drinks are 130b but they give you a casino chip for one free drink, so it’s two cocktails at 65b each.
Popped into Lady Love, which is always a pleasure. The last time I was in, their photographer was there snapping pics. ‘Twas the same this time. 89b drafts. In Queen Club, the SMLs were 145 and they had lots of huge tits and asses. I saw only one skinny girls and even she had huge knockers.
On Monday I schlepped back to Bangkok, wishing I could’ve stayed in Ptown forever.
On Tuesday I had the pleasure of meeting one of Bangkok’s nightlife princes. I won’t mention his name, because anonymity is one of his superpowers, but we’d been trying to get in touch for a while and it finally happened in Nana Plaza. He is a gentleman and a scholar, and a pleasure to talk to. And because he wields the power, he opened the door for me to take photos in many of Nana’s bars. If you follow me on X, you’ve seen the start of this newfound freedom. My hope is to bring you more inside glimpses of this redlight life, and the intoxicating vixens therein. If all goes well, I should be providing some exclusive looks into Angelwitch, Essence, Twister, and a couple others. And I’m not talking about those shitty PR photos you see on social media. I mean real, raw, beauty-in-the-moment shots like I’ve been doing in Patpong for the last 10 years. Stay tuned, gents.
After five dry days in Ptown, coming back to the rain was a drag. It also meant coming back to arthritis weather, and my toes swelled up like water balloons. Midweek I tried to stay in, but with World War 3 hitting its stride I’m not sure how many nights out we have left, so I mongered like there might not be a tomorrow. It started with buffalo chicken tacos and a margarita in Hooter’s. Sometimes the old faves are the best, though the price seems to’ve jumped.
Friday I started out at Chunky off Suk Soi 23 because my buddy John, the owner of Shenanigan’s, keeps tagging them on Facebook and the burgers look great. I got the Daddy Burger—truffle jam, onion jam, pickles, rocket. Simple, primo ingredients and excellent flavors, if a bit messy. In fact I’d sum up the burger in three words: “messy but delicious,” which coincidentally was my nickname in high school.
I then made my way to Cowboy and straight to Dollhouse. As I passed by Shark Bar, the Thai papasan was telling a trio of Indians to fuck off. “I answer all your questions. I not answer any more. Go! Go now!” I got to DH by 19.50. Two 10s were onstage amid a crowd of chubsters. I didn’t see my muse, but five minutes later she strutted in like a gazelle. If I’m honest, though, something’s going on with her backside. Over the many months I’ve been staring at it, it’s lost some of its perkiness. I think m’lady might be hitting the ice cream a bit too hard. On the other hand, she seem’s to’ve acquired a set of new fake tits, so…a little bit of good and a little bit of not-so-good. While sitting in DH I got a message from Beer to come see her in NanaP so I hopped a mo’taxi for a two-minute ride. Essence now has the exXXXers plus an entire new roster of…how should I put this…big girls. The upside is, they get their tits out. The old XXX girls don’t show boob and I think the joint is better for it. Beer sat with me for a bit. I chatted up a bunch of the old Pong crew.
Speaking of the Pong, I finished the night there, namely at the 3 King’s, where Offy showed me a bruise on her arm that I evidently gave her when I was fooling around the night before. She said I grabbed her too hard. I was too drunk to remember, but as a peace offering I got her a drink, and all was forgiven.
In King’s 2, fifteen fat, gross American 30somethings—male and female—herded in like dairy cows, talking loud and making a scene the way Yanks do, making a scene and being obnoxious, looking around to see who played audience to their antics. The fattest one looked like she might try to crawl onstage. I got my camera ready but in the end she chickened out. The balding shorty who acted as their leader got two girls down to sit with a couple of dudes, which sent the others into hysterics. They crowded around her like she was a carnival side show. I couldn’t take their shouting and high-pitched laughter so I fled. K Corner was hopping and had a gang of new skinnies. In Panther, a bunch of old familiars—Kaew, Sai, Big Nan, Joy, and Bee from Electric Blue, plus Ning from Glamour and the old original Ice from Pink Panther circa 2012—we all on hand for a tidal wave of nostalgic t’n’a. On my way home, I plopped down at a table outside King’s 1 to chomp on some gai medmamuang and smoke a Cuban. The mighty Som came and sat with me for a bit. She has a kind of magnetism that can only be described as ‘visceral.’
The farang couples who pass by the King’s doorway all do the same thing. The dude looks away until his girl points out the dancers and the stage, letting her be the one to bring it up. That way she can’t blame him for looking. Then, he reacts with contrived surprise like, “Well what in tarnation?” Then he looks once, twice, three times a-gogo while saying, “Oh Honey, that ain’t my scene.” And putting his arm around her, he glances over her shoulder for one last longing look at what he’d rather be doing before lumbering to the mango-sticky rice stand.
Everybody wai’s, nobody tries. That’s my new description for how girls treat me in the Pong. They either know someone from my harem or have been told by the grapevine that I’m spoken for by this or that gogo veteran. And I like that just fine. As I trudge home, an obscure song came on the Mp3. “Can’t Go Back Now” by the Weepies. The lyrics are, “I can’t really say why everybody wishes they were somewhere else, but in the end the only steps that matter are the ones you take all by yourself.” How true. I always wished I was somewhere else….that is, until I found Thailand.
In other Pong-related news, the inside baseball on the new gogo going into the old Glamour location is 1—the boss is a female Thai and 2—a tentative opening is set for 1 November. And the biggest shit weasel in the Bangkok blogging scene recently sealed a deal to do social media for Bada Bing, and I assume, Radio City. The human pustule in question has spent a decade absolutely shitting on Patpong, so it’ll be interesting to watch the mental gymnastics as he backtracks on his history. No doubt it’ll be something along the lines of “Yeah, Patpong still sucks…except these two bars who now pay me monthly to post shitty photos and lie about their clicks and followers.” This talentless twat couldn’t create anything successful himself, so instead he bought out his betters, like Dave the Rave, and fenagled writing gigs for the likes of Stickman. Expect that page to be nothing but Chat GPT-generated content after he takes over.
A couple weeks back, I bemoaned the stupidity of millennials, and it struck a chord with some readers. I should amend that statement by saying that not all millennials are created weakqual. In my experience as an online trainer for people worldwide, I’ve found young people from Asia, Africa, Scandinavia, and South America to be quite capable and intelligent. It seems the widespread stupidity among this age group is restricted to the US, Canada, The UK, and Australia. Someone smarter than me should try to suss out why that is.
If you haven’t yet, check out my MGThai video series on my YouTube channel. It’s strictly mediocre content, but from a Thai expat perspective.
Artwork and photo albums from inside the gogos are available for digital download at https://bentbox.co/bangkoksevenart at superlow prices.
And that’s all the monger that’s fit to ponder for now, friends. Check back next Sunday for another summary of red-light events. In the meantime, you can read more about Bangkok life on my Substack: https://bangkokseven.substack.com/
Photos of everything in this blog can be found in the YouTube slideshow companion for this post at https://www.youtube.com/c/BangkokSeven
Follow me on Twitter/X @BangkokSeven for daily pics from the redlight, and until next time, keep your balls warm, your beer cold, and cheers to another week above ground in the greatest country on Earth: Thailand.
Pro Tip Post-Script: You’ve got a little over two weeks before the tourist wave hits TLOS like a bitch slap, so if you’ve been wanting to lock in a new girl or check out a previously-not-visited venue, do it now. Once the tourist clusterfuck begins, it’ll go till Songkran.
